Pranab Ghosh

Pranab Ghosh is a journalist, writer, poet, translator and blogger. He runs a blog “Existential Problems”. His poems and prose piece have been published and accepted by Dissident Voice, Spillwords, The Piker Press, Setu Magazine, Pangolin Review, Visual Verse, Memoryhouse, Tuck Magazine, Transendent Zero Press, Scarlet Leaf Review, Literature Studio Review, Leaves of Ink, Hans India, etc. He has coauthored a book of poems, titled Air & Age. He has to his credit a translation of a book of Bengali short stories. The title of the English translation is Bougainvillea and Other Stories. His second book of poems and first solo book “Soul Searching and Other Poems” (2017) has been published by Scarlet Leaf Publishing, Toronto. He is married and lives in Kolkata with wife, daughter and mother.

Homecoming of My Dream

“Fulfill me,” whispered my dream.
I touched her cheek and it reddened.
 
My dream demanded creation; my dream
Demanded a home and a hearth.
 
I slept like a baby immersed
In my dream. It was no fantasy.
Yet it was, moored in the reality
Of mind and time, as time stood still.
 
But days crept into night and crawled
Out of it. I waited with bated breath
For her arrival. For her homecoming.

River Within

The river within me
Reflects the clear sky.
 
Its banks are green.
 
You tiptoe into it to
Bathe. I stand at a
Distance to watch.
 
You play with the water,
Its sound a music of
Piano concert.
 
As you step into it
The hue changes. The
Blue river is red now.
 
I want to bathe with
thee. You play hide
And seek with the
Water lilies and I
Stand mesmerized.

The Whisper!

A whisper is there in the air.
A light drizzle has made the
Trees wet and as water drips
From the green leaves and
you cross the wet ground of
The garden, the whisper
Becomes audible and you
Pick it up from the breeze
To see her hurried footsteps
At the furthest corner of
The garden.
 
 You want to
Share the whisper with her,
Draw her attention to what
The trees are saying, only
To meet a soft giggle and
A wink followed by, “It is I
That created the whisper,” and
Then she disappeared behind
The rows of trees leaving you
To carry the message in your soul.
 
“For how long?” You ask yourself
And a sigh escapes you and shakes
The nearby trees and twigs and
You look at the cloud and implore
Her to carry the whisper to its destiny! 

Good Morning!

The evening of my life,
Work creating a time of
Uncertainties, with solution
Buried in the womb of time.
 
I sat still in front of the
Window observing the
Changing hues of the sky.
The sun was setting.
 
She came from my dream and
Knocked on my door. The night came
With rain and she drenched me with
a sense of fulfillment, immeasurable.
 
Satiated I slept and in my dream I heard
Her footsteps coming closer and closer.
I embraced the morning with both my hands.

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