The City Diary
His diary nThe smoke of my cigarette Dissolves in the subliming moon. And, The glass of the moon Breaks into prisms. They rearrange in the ball of your eye. ?Thousand Concentric circles crack And, Burst into smaller eyes. Moon?s many eyes, Now, Float in your eye. Tina Ganguly nHave I conceived the volley of eyes That gaze at me all day long Deceptive, though it might appear Inevitably they always peer Questioning my spiritual intuition. When all at once they pounce at my institutional calibre. Their entwining tentacles Produces an unfurling, surging barnacle When I realise, it has already passed into utter oblivion. Suvro Chatterjee, 1st year English, JU nWith the pleasant blue sky, Soft green grass, To inspire every moment: It?s futile to shed tears For loved ones! But for that gourd plant Which by its fruitfulness Filled the heart! Or for that rose Which by its fragrance Filtered fresh emotions! Or for that nightingale Which by its music Rekindles the dying spirit every morn! Suvodip Banerjee
The Telegraph Online
Published 15.10.04, 12:00 AM
