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Best Poems Written by Probir Gupta

Below are the all-time best Probir Gupta poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Brilliant Spring

Crazy wind whispers 
Into the ears of ‘champa’
A light scented Indian flower
Trees are full of them now
Your love in each and every bough

The breeze is cool 
Because it is spring
Because it is south wind
Because everywhere is hue
Because it is warm with you

Blue hills and green plains
My room at sixes and sevens
Red bellied wood peckers drumming
Rhythm in feet nimble
Your twinkling eyes with dimple

Our roads are tremendously red
Ashok Palash and Gulmohar
They call it flame-of-the-forest
Love in red supreme
With you in extravagant dream

Books in eloquently colorful blurb
Beauty steps in every curve
Invitation in every nerve
The spring below and spring above
Your healing love 

Goes away alas the days
Of dance in soul in warm sun rays
Goes away your ocean gaze
Life in a twilight haze
Your beautiful craze

Ah if I could have turned the clock
Holding your hand in a Gulmohar walk
Only our hands and feet would talk
Around the clock  arm in arm
In your beauty and charm

Alas that is not to be a thing
Our time is as short as the spring

March 18, 2016
Butea Monosperma or Palash is a species of Butea native to tropical and sub-tropical parts of India and Asia.
Saraca asoca ( the ashoka tree, literally ‘sorrowless’), belongs to the Caesalpinioideae subfamily  of legume family, of Indian sub continent.
Gulmohar  or Delonix Regia, grown in many tropical parts of the world, called FLAMBOYANT in English, is a striking sight for its vivid red/vermilion/orange/yellow flowers and bright green foliage...Wikipedia

Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2016

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The Reunion

In the beginning it is just a lovely cloud Collin comes across her in the coffee house One of his friends calls his attention Look, your mom is here, let’s go elsewhere A descent of birds pecking at his brain The cloud he keeps looking at for quite a while The face and the figure look like his He goes to the toilet to look into the mirror The semblance he sees is a puzzling wonder The birds dance and sing in tumultuous chorus His friend confounded when he is told Collin does not know who his mother is He had been adopted when he was just two The lady too looks at them off and on When a bridge comes up none can say The next few hours he passes in a daze Is the quest for four years going to succeed Is the cloud preordained for the sudden rain Or it is just a fortuitous resemblance But then isn’t it an exactly mirror image Returning home Collin scrutinizes himself again In the mirror he finds the same chiseled face The same desirous dreamy eyes, head full of hair He recites poems and talks to himself Same grace radiates from the daffodils The plant with the flowers hangs in the air The charm and the fragrance are irresistible He craves to rush forward and hug it tight And flood the flower with crimson kisses The scented air stays elusive nonetheless Collin says everything to his adopted parents They are very glad and cooperate to get to the truth There would be no problem in living all together Collin laughs and says very forcefully The twenty two years old son is no more an introvert When the magnet works in the very stem cells The eventual fusion is inevitable obviously She takes him to her apartment She lives alone her husband dead No shadow of children nowhere in the rooms Thousand wasps biting inside his head The pain is traumatic for the hidden truth Light and dark interchange day after day Poems of love keep churning the two hearts Drama outside and a flood within The day DNA test confirms the gene The two intermingle to a river serene ______________________________________________________________ August 8, 2016: For the Contest: Long Lost Family Sponsored by Silent One

Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2016

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Your Eyes Are There

The tree stays empty
No bird no breeze no glow worm
The soil looks morose  

Dense clouds have gathered
On and around the grey tree
Blooms are comatose

Getting rid of frost
Only last night it blossomed
Into a fountain

Alas, to no end
No bird from your shrubbery
Winter in my breath

Up and underneath
This load of cloud with no face
Restlessness for rain

No, no more moaning
For I know your eyes are there
If not now, later

None knows how and when
Your pink pigeons smile and fly
My flame is orange 
20 March 2017

Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2017

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All you do 
All you say
All you write
In the jasmine garden
Is a frenzied drum
Bludgeoning me to dumb

Intensely numb
I feel
As I reel

As you come
Rising on tides
Passion overflowing
Deluge in the veins
In a hurricane
You dominate
You violate
You annihilate
My stability
My balance
My tranquility
My nonchalance

You seek to 
Sweep me off my feet
I resist
To be devastatingly kissed

Who does want
A plundered restaurant
I hold breath
But you hit underneath
With your tremendous vigour
A wild rigour

Breaking all norm
Of rhythm and form
You become
The fierce Atlantic storm

From head to toe
Fast or slow
Everything you claim
You monster hurricane

In a primitive joy
You destroy
Spears and arrows you employ
Pull down and enjoy

In a poor coordination
I reach my limitation
And surrender
Before your violence
And horror

Frantically you tear
All the roses there
The tendrils of hair
The hymns of prayer
Whether in Florida
Or in Miami
Riding on reckless liberty
Everywhere the same misery

Either Katrina or Irene
Harvey or Irma
The same surging ocean
The same commotion
You flood me with
I groan beneath
I have to writhe
And wriggle as fiercely you breathe

Well now as you are quieted
Having deconstructed
All my emotions
Are now back to the ocean

Give me your resilience
The ocean’s brilliance
Let me reconstruct and create
My new cup and chocolate
My balance
In the new circumstance

In future if you need to come
Come with tribal drum
Played by striking with sticks
In the nerves crimson kicks
Come in drizzling ice and gentle rains
Not in tornadoes and hurricanes
Please …

Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2017

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Where black-necked cranes come to chat with me
In the company of wine and deep brown honey
Flowing from apple twigs in the heavenly valley
Of Bumthang , carved into the sublime Himalayas
By glacial melt and monsoon rains in collaboration
Giving rise to lovely landscapes offering relaxation
In Buddha’s silence, there lies my dream destination
To fill some vacuum in a week of my next vacation

In the north east of the Indian subcontinent where
Beautiful girls and Buddhist monks are very sincere
(Bum refers to girls and thang a flat piece of land)
Everywhere you will see Buddha’s lifted hand
In consonance with the land an ever demure voice
Of Buddhism says: go to the mystic blue and rejoice

Along the murmur of icy rivers and lakes everywhere
Pink rhododendrons exude fragrance in the fresh air
Flowers red, yellow, pink, white, lilac, green and blue
For our sore minds and thirsty psyche all these hues

In the shades of Pine and Oak monasteries as a nest
The imposing peaks descend here to take a little rest
Four charming valleys, Tang, Ura, Choekhor, Chumey 
Will greet us in a smile on our trip to Bumthang valley
Morning is wakened here by blue-capped rock thrush
Beside the flapping flags the gurgling streamlets gush

Where Gross National Happiness instead of GDP
Determines economic progress of the society   
Come, dear friend, to join me in the amazing journey
From the chains of self to a deep sense of infinity 
February 13, 2016

Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2016

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Twenty Years From Now

I have got no doubt twenty years from now I’ll transform myself into fragrant air To write rhymes as you’ll come under the bough So fondly I’ll raise those rings in your hair The poor guy busking in the street corner A cloth sheet spread before him on the road His mother is sick and he a loner I will put him into a dancing mode The girl planting the saplings of green rice Is pleased as she feels me in monsoon rain Dreams of bumper crop in her waiting eyes At harvest she waves at me in the train I’ll be in the moonlight on your dream grace As you sleep out after the day’s struggle Will move my moon-palm on your eyes and face Have a great sleep to face the next hustle The five basics of my body and mind Will blend with earth water air fire and sky I’ll look back at the orange left behind As in your eyes the cloud of time goes by Would there be a chance to seek any gift Please send me back to Bengal I’d say swift _______________________________________________________________ April 29, 2017 Note: Though I wrote it for the contest of the same name as in the title, but to my dismay I found the sponsor requires a sonnet. When I attempted to delete two stanzas to meet the need, I felt the integrity of the poem was getting compromised. Hence, for no contest.

Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2017

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The Rainy Day

Rainy day
Green and grey leisure
You say
It is a pleasure

Green and grey leisure
Drifting poems in sky
It is a pleasure
Golden kites flying very high

Drifting poems in sky
You want them close
Golden kites fly very high
You are morose

You want them very close
So that you can smell
You are morose
Indweller clouds rebel

So that you can smell
You have been waiting
Indweller clouds rebel
A restlessness fascinating

You have been waiting
You say
A restlessness excruciating
Rainy day 

July 3, 2017

Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2017

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Whom the horse is looking for
Every day in the scarlet breeze
It comes and taps at the door
Have you forgotten your blue cheese

Is it the one I dream of
Accompanied by the charged shiver
Especially when I am burnt out
Like the lean exhausted river

The last time I saw it
In blue light it stood
The pink link it signalled me
I was in a restless wood

I tried to recall
Where had I seen it
The tempest and the thunder squall
Then the ocean of the mist

But how come I am morose
I have got nothing to do
With this equine inquiry
Then what for the blues overdose

But the residual pink remains
I have seen it somewhere
Beside the blue Euphrates?
My another mind inquired

A Freudian explained me
Your horse misses you
Your bosom friend of the boyhood
Longs for a hue or two

He reached me a magazine
Inside I came across the faces
Of lovely blonde and black women
In very skimpy dresses

I couldn't remove my eyes
Was in a reverie
What is it, the analyst asked
Is it the equine spree?

Was the horse now inside me?
Something I felt scary
Does Mathew still hold good
Was it the visual adultery?

From above 
Dropped a dew
Are you living still 
In the age of Mathew

Was it the horse
Yes, said he
Goading you
Into harmless  glee

And my thoughts 
Went astray
Last night in Paul's house
How charmingly in the sofa she lay

The tremor in the cup of tea
Now the horse again for the infidelity
I knew it for sure
It was the mental adultery

Now Mathew not alone
Beside him glared Mark
I was in a blind cone
This crimson sky how to shirk

Tush tush
Smiled the analyst
Without the child
You can't exist

You are living in the light speed life
It is the child that slows you down
Makes you smile amidst your strife
In the mirror you wear a crown

February 12,  2018

Loss of an Innocent Mind - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann

Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2018

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My Poetry Soup Recipe

A beggar has got bread from a door
The thread of survival
A slice of sky smiling on a pink petal
And for me
In the void, appears a boundless sea
And the bard is impatient
Till the buzz from his word-paint
Versifies the lyrically human moment

Poetry is fomented by arousal and associations
A graceful process of 
Deconstruction and reconstruction
Of the dancing shadows
A concentrated illumination
Of your reality
With my lamps of desire and imagination 

Wearing a shirt of rustling dry leaves
There stands 
A story of weeping wounds
Shards of tears and trauma
In my nostril a human aroma
Shaping out fond filigree of emotion
Warm and cold
Stroke in the folds

And when you look intense
Craving the chocolate words of my pen
Provoking a tomato like glow 
In my bone marrow
Instantly arrives the bird
And stirred is the light in the gem
A sure poem

Like the meandering river
In the falling leaves
In the painting brush of the sun and cloud
Silent as well as loud
Sit the metaphors
Waiting merrily to be caressed in a poem
Or else
To what end are they born?
Guitar of golden corn 

And when an irresistible leaf
From your trembling window
Falls on my thirsty grass
Alphabets sparkle and spontaneously combine
In valentine
Boats from the river sail in
Into the passionate hemoglobin 

Life is always ready
With stupendous recipes 
For our poetry

Provided the quick chemistry is there
In profound red and sky blue
Between me and you
A crimson brew

Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2017

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The Classical Whisper

The tree is breezy you will come I know
The jasmine wind is waiting to greet you
The hands of the clock moving very slow
On the rose shaft sits the shining pink dew

The clouds have made the avenue so that
You can with the roses intact walk down
On the grass the glow worms at their love chat
Do get some light from them in the blue gown

The box I have left scented for the lips
The sparks I have all saved for the lightnings
That will set free the thousands of blue ships
Leading to the waves of stings and bitings

There you come it would be a scarlet coup
With the classical whisper  I love you
The rose buds loosening with the red hue
Reciting in the fragrance I love you
April 4, 2018

Love Poem - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Heidi Sands 

Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2018