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Best Poems Written by Gautam Shankar Banerjee

Below are the all-time best Gautam Shankar Banerjee poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Gautam Shankar Banerjee Poem

The Farmer's Predicament

The rains did not come today
to drive the blues away
the soil is parched and cracked
the tractor is idle and parked
He has to feed the cattle
his forehead is marked by wrinkles
there is no money to feed
His family member's needs
The clouds appear and move on
floating aimlessly in the sun
the scorching rays evaporate
water body, dyke and lake
The weather forecasters give reasons
there will be a rainy monsoon season
will they be wrong again, as it is like
driving him to end his life?

Details | Gautam Shankar Banerjee Poem

A Stray Dog In the Rain

Poor doggy in the hard rain
no umbrella to hide the pain
housing society gates shoo them out
space under parked cars in knee-deep troughs
men and women stuck indoors, sip hot tea
children barred from school sing do re me
closed offices due to waterlogged streets
white and black clouds play hide and seek
sailed paper boats in the curly road water
drowned by waves of passing vehicle tire
memories of rain in the football field
chase the ball on wet grass, slide on the heel
a crow picks a crumb from claws of another
quickly beaks a crumb lying in a corner

Details | Gautam Shankar Banerjee Poem

The Paint Brush

The painter took up his brush to paint
he picturized a valley cupped by mountains
numerous waterfalls were cascading down
ripples expanding and bubbles bursting all around
Sunrise is an invasion of light and shade
through the clump of trees and wild foliage
Inside it's dark but enlivening bird calls
cawing, chirping and screeching as if in alarm
A small hut at the brink of a rivulet
further downstream more sprouting concrete
black smoke billowing out of chimneys
a road connecting by cutting trees
the councillors and builders in round table
chalking out plans to have planned development
multistoried to cater to demand multiplying
dammed river to render water supplying
The paint in the brush dried up
It dipped by mistake in the teacup 
this the absent-minded painter drank
and back to reality he shrank

Details | Gautam Shankar Banerjee Poem

The House By the Woods

The creaking sound on the steps
on ascending the platform to the door
matching those of buzzing bees and crickets
that serenade through the fading lights
streaming through the leafy filigree
The door opened and a middle aged man
greeted me and called me in 
the thud thud of heels on wood 
as we moved into the drawing room 
wall shelves full of books
reading table and sofa set
We sat down and held the cups
chatting on literary topics and politics 
lanterns shading the shape of our faces
casting shadows on the floor
He lived alone and away
from social groups; the urban milieu.
shielded from the goings-on 
the mad race to out-maneuver
acquiring money and winning elections
as the panacea of all ills.
As I left him in the cover of the night
i wondered if he would continue
to savor the closeness to the green 
or wait for the urbania to extend
to gradually extinguish the woods.

Details | Gautam Shankar Banerjee Poem

The Bard's Song In a Pub

That day in the crowded pub
as the bard began to sing
what a friend wrote and he composed
stopping the dancers in their tracks
as the words danced in their heads

The song was not on holding hands 
lapped by the evening breeze at the strand

Transfixed they left the floor
like bobbing boats getting to the shore
sitting down to hear the words
that struck them as brandishing swords

The lyrics were new to their ears
like seeing a rose in colors of peers
I have the strings of the labyrinth
i have a little knowledge of things
I can digress a little
I may linger for a while
I may transgress as well
but with knowledge on my side
like a raft it will carry me 
through the river in tide
I will not be late
In getting to the gate
I have the strings of the labyrinth...

Details | Gautam Shankar Banerjee Poem

Anger of the Setting Sun

Do I like the setting sun?
Red-spangled against the sky
Crimson is the eye in angry glow
The fading light getting ready to go
What may be the cause of its anger?
Though the slanting rays are softer
Has it done its assigned work well enough?
Not to be eager to leave in a huff
Dipping over the horizon, the rim of the sea
Beyond the jagged buildings or clump of trees
Leaving the world descending in darkness
Dispelled with equal but artificial brightness 
To come back to the real question…
The self review of its assigned working
It seems that it is not satisfied
Therefore the anger is justified 
An uncanny analogy can be drawn
By the review of mankind’s life sojourn.

Details | Gautam Shankar Banerjee Poem

The Swaying Rice Stalks

The sequestered plots of green
the rice shoots sway in the wind
overcast sky remains strangely still
ominous signs of a heavy downpour
that may flood the crop field
washing away the green shoots
watery grave stretching to the horizon.

The rain falling off and on
bringing relief to the dry season
filling the rivers, ponds and lakes
the woolen winter, spring and summer
coming back again to soothe
the fray tempers and parched lands.

A flooded street keeps you indoors
chocking sewerage pipes and gutters
drinking water sources are full of germs
floating carcasses everywhere
rooftops waiting to go under
multi-storied buddings holding out 
a little more till they fall sideways
or front faced one on top of another.

Rains can raise the food stocks
the unceasing downpours trail 
flooding the countryside and littoral cities
synchronizing with hotter summers 
rising sea levels and melting iceberg

Noting new in this but there is no action.

Details | Gautam Shankar Banerjee Poem

Death and Life

Bodies after bodies were arriving
The last rites were being performed
The family and friends crowding around
The cheeks of women were watery
Glassy eyes, with mournful looks
An old lady was wailing
"Where will I go?
Will you not talk to me?
How can I live without you?"
After being anointed with oil
And prayers, unheard by the deaf
The keepers announce and the collapsible gates
Are opened; the body is placed on a cheap wooden
Raft like structure; the shutters move up
Revealing the red hot inside, like a dragon mouth
Wide open to swallow the body
Pushed in by the pulling of a lever
The mouth closes shut to burn 
The status is displayed electronically 
Engaged or Available for the next body
There are eight burners in a row
After an hour of burning to ashes
A part of it is delivered to the relatives
In an earthen pot to be floated
In the river Ganges beside
They are wizened to the reality of death
After seeing the inert bodies being burnt
The river flowing away to meet the sea
I return with a feeling of the meaninglessness
Of life and things deemed important
I got a feeling that one must live
To the fullest and love friends and relations
To be loved back. I ordered a cream roll
At the "Just Baked" shop, where I sat 
Sipping coffee and scribbling this piece
The buzz of conversation flows 
Into my consciousness. This is life.

Details | Gautam Shankar Banerjee Poem

Patterns In Life

Go through chores as, like a machine
the sunrise, sundown, the rains, and snow
the countryside pass by a train window
but can't drink the green valley to the lees
along the mountain slope the mist rises
swept clean by a light stream from among clouds
sea waves thrash the shore and back they go
the glacial river water flows down to the plains
poke the ecology to melt ice at the source
fertile lands begin to wear desert signages
channel energy to mine minerals and wring out oil
combust petroleum to run trucks and automobiles
disease and pandemic checkmate growth
damage life, in the gambit to make it hunky-dory.

Details | Gautam Shankar Banerjee Poem

Damsel In Distress

The long wait at the veranda
when will the lovely face appear
the window bars are familiar
enclosed by the grip of the long fingers
delving into the soft cheeks tender

She does not ventures out at all 
a prisoner withing the walls
self-willed or by force of elders
no inkling of mystery under wraps

There is no way to forget
the gravitation pull all around 
like the stones hurtling down
unstoppable in their momentum

The imagination creates an image
of stunning features of delicacy
a desire to act with chivalry
to save the damsel with alacrity