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Best Poems Written by Phinjiu Basumatary

Below are the all-time best Phinjiu Basumatary poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Phinjiu Basumatary Poem

Entangled in the Digital Web: The Modern Trap

In a realm once pure, where stories were shared,
A new world arrived, yet no one was prepared.
Young hands that once worked with skill and grace
Now swipe on screens, lost in the race.

They dream of fame and riches untold,
But in return, their secrets are sold.
A click, a share, and trust is gone-
Privacy is lost as the web moves on.

The youth are trapped, yet they fail to see,
That social media is not always free.
Rumors spread like fire so fast,
Running lives that may never outlast.

Half-truths fuel anger; chaos takes hold,
Friends turn foes, their hearts grow cold.
Families break, communities fight,
Blinded by posts that distort what's right.

Women once strong are now silenced by fear,
Tricked by false words they long to hear.
Behind the screen, dangers hide,
Stealing dignity, crushing pride.

A shame unfolds, too dark to erase,
Scars of dishonor, a lasting disgrace.
Shadows of secrets unveiled in the night,
Echoes of words too bitter to write.

Elders warn, but their words go unheard,
As morals fade and truth is deferred.
The domain, once noble, wise, and bright,
Now drowns in lies, lost in the night.

Yet hope remains, a flicker of light-
If wisdom shines, we'll set things right.
The web is a tool, not a fate to decide;
Use it with care, and walk with pride.
                                                                  - Phin Jiu

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When Fields Becomes Cities

Once there stood a golden field,
Swaying crops, a farmer's yield.
Morning songs of birds took flight,
Beneath the sky so vast and bright.

The village paths, of dust and stone,
Where children laughed and cattle roamed,
Now paved with tar, so smooth and wide,
Where restless cars and buses glide.

The thatched-roof homes with lantern’s glow,
Replaced by lights in glassy rows.
The banyan tree where elders met,
Now stands alone in cold cement.

The riverbanks where stories flowed,
Now buried deep where buildings grow.
The marketplace of voices loud,
Now lost beneath a concrete crowd.

Yet in the heart of progress’ run,
Echoes of the past still hum.
For roots of earth, though hidden deep,
In memories, they softly keep.
                                                    - Phin Jiu

Details | Phinjiu Basumatary Poem

Uncharted Love

In the halls of learning, where whispers grow,
Two hearts met, began to glow.
A glance, a smile, a moment shared—
A silent bond, unspoken, yet declared.

Through bustling streets and crowded halls,
They walked together, love enthralled.
A sip of tea, an evening stroll—
In laughter and talks, their hearts felt whole.

But love was shadowed by a wall,
A faith divide, a family’s call.
She feared the chains of ancient ties;
The thought of losing filled her eyes.

Yet love defied the fear inside.
With every step, they walked in stride.
A stolen moment, a secret meet—
Their love grew strong in time discreet.

Then came the day of silent pain,
As he stood beside the waiting train.
With trembling hands, a frame she gave,
Memories wrapped in love so brave.

Her name was stitched upon his case,
A whisper carved in time and space.
A tear-streaked face, a last goodbye—
He left, yet love refused to die.

Though miles apart, their hearts entwined,
In hidden meetings, love defined.
She wove new tales for paths to cross,
Defying fate, ignoring loss.

Yet questions loomed in sleepless nights—
Would love withstand the coming fights?
Would fate be cruel? Would time betray?
Would love survive another day?

But through the storms, they held on tight,
With dreams of days bathed in light.
Their love—a fire, a burning flame—
That even distance couldn’t tame.

With hope as armor, faith as guide,
They walked the path, side by side.
For love, they vowed, would break the chain,
And bloom beyond the walls of pain.
                                                                   ~ Phin Jiu

Details | Phinjiu Basumatary Poem

My Village - Monsoon Flood

The skies now dark with swollen grief,
Rain lashes roofs beyond belief.
The monsoon comes not soft, but roaring seas,
It spares no home and trees, nor man, nor child.

Before my eyes - truth too raw to bear,
A mother staggered through the despair,
Clutching her sack above the flood,
Her last few grains, her sweat, her blood.

The fields we tilled with calloused hands,
Now lie beneath these muddy bands.
The rice we prayed for, sowed with song,
Drowned in waters deep and strong.

Our homes of mud, our roofs of hay,
Were swept like leaves along the way.
At night, we huddle, cold and still,
The lamps are dead, the pots don't fill.

The roads are lost, just rivers now,
We wade knee-deep where carts once ploughed.
The school stands empty, lost in gloom,
The children's laughter swallowed soon.

The river eats away the banks each night,
The trees give way without a fight.
One more strip of land, one more dream gone,
The river hums in endless song.

Even the smallest life must flee - 
I saw them climb a lonely tree:
Worms and insects, piled up high,
Clinging to life under a dark sky.
Their tiny bodies stacked in fear,
A sad sign of their life's struggle here

And still, we stand. We start again.
We wipe our tears, we plant through pain.
The rain will stop, the rivers will slow,
But our hopes and hearts will always grow.
                                                            - Phin Jiu.