Poetry: La rue

 

La rue

It was the street that time had sealed,

A  travelled  path,  I was  forbade  to tread

 As the tires hummed a low refrain,

 And the past drew near,

 as a  sudden tide,

I asked  to slow the pace,

To let one fleeting moment bide.

 Through the glass, a momentary  "peep,"

A jagged breath, a glance of old—

Then the road stretched out to pull me on,

And left the story’s end untold.

 

-Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

03.04.2026

Poetry: From Tommorrow it will be in 2024

 

From Tommorow it will  in be 2024

From tomorrow, it will be in 2024,

A truth easier spoken than lived.

They ask me to roll back a year and a half,

In a world that races forward in haste,

Guided by AI, chasing speed.

 But I am no machine, no geared device,

To freeze my warmth beneath a world of ice.

When asked to rewind time itself?

The saints warn: attachments bring pain,

But did they ever say—return to the past?

Perhaps peace lingers there.

 Before the Goddess of the Wise I stand;

To her I brought my curated delight,

The little things I painted in the night.

Speaker, I am no machine.

A turn of the key cannot undo me.

Now they ask me to bury my emotions,

To silence my crafted experiences.

 Yet even buried, I will water them.

They will rise, bloom into flowers,

Breathing life into the waiting "OASIS".

green and still,

I bow to Him who set the stars to glow,

And with a steady heart, forward I go.

- Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

01.04.2026