Sipra's diary: Poems [# 1]-- Sparkling Youth. [# 2 ]EXCERPT from "Art of Arts" .

 Sparkling Youth       

We are the angel, angel of change,

To light up new age,

We are restless, we are queer,

We often do great blunder,

Without least  fear.

 

We prefer  to be warrior,

Rather to be pitched as thinker,   

Courage fuels our power

To crush or create new future!

 

We dive deep to the ocean 

And fly high piercing the sky,

Dare devil  to snatch the lightning!

We are reckless, we’are  dazzling, 

Unfettered sparkling Youth!

…………………………………………………….

Lines=16 / words 74 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

# {2}Art of arts .

Let the poetry be pristine 

And untouched by by any 'art'

As itself is the ' art of arts'

Quintessential form of heart!

.........................

Who is there in near future 

To worry about the art of poetry?

In this digital age as AI is ready

To step in the literary garden !

Who will appeal or protect 

In  custody the "art " of poetry? 

If the 'App' in brain produces

Poems of love, loss, laughter 

From the AI    factory ,

To replace  the Eden of literature !

Who cares for Creativity ,

What future for  'Imagination'?...

 Will it be:-

Yes, graveyard is ready,

Coffin is waiting.................

What  epithet will be chosen 

To inscribe the tombstone ?.........

:-" Step softly , dream lies here !"

                   Or,

 " The best is yet to come ! "

Of course that ' epithet'

Has also to be borrowed 

From some frozen cemetery or  factory!

Sipra's Diary: " FIRST ALPHABET"

      

                                           First Alphabet.   [ESSAY-1]words:315

Language is the Oral expression of thought. How it can be retained

  i.e. to reserve as the evidence of the oral expression for the future?

Thought was invisible and very much personal and private.  Some 'thoughts' needed to be public that was  precious and useful for others to know and to  preserve for the future also. Otherwise precious thought will be lost  with the decease of individual or community.

In simple language   'Thought' needed  to  have some 'Form' , some 'appearance' to convey others and also to  save for the future .  

  Idea of Alphabet  appeared from  necessity; as necessity  is the mother of invention! To release the 'abstract' thought into  'concrete ' expression.

Human-being learnt to 'Draw' first to express his thought.  To express time  as day. they drew sun in the sky or night by drawing moon  and stars in the sky . Picture  of a boat  floating on  the river was used to mean that they are making journey on boat.

They learnt to draw picture  billion years ago. The mountain. and caves witnessed the  human skill   as artist .

So alphabet of any language appeared through a process of evolution!

Picture, drawing (better to say sculpture ),was the 'maternity-home' of

alphabet .At the very dawn when human civilization started crawling, he learnt to draw; He learnt to "decode"  thoughts by sketching picture . Among many nations [...like. wall in  pyramid   of primitive Egypt witnesses this  idea; also Chinese, Japanese ,  Korean, language etc,].    the alphabet they use is still  like pictures

In twentieth century some archeologists discovered some picture on the wall of  a cave in the northern Arctic land which was guessed to be of the pre-historic age. The historians noticed several  scattered skeletons  which were supposed to be the skeletons of children of different ages ; but one   was a skeleton of  woman;  near to her side    there were a heap of logs and wood .  And lots of crispy dry leaves, hay spread like (mattress )on the floor .

They discovered an amazing hair-raising  obscured picture on the wall; 

The lines were too  indistinct to observe, even with. special device!

They inferred a story from the bones :  A  mother with her four children was blocked in the cave-in a stormy day while the father went to hunt for the starving children. The snow storm  continued and became severe. To pacify the hungry  impatient children , mother drew a picture of  big wild pig hunted and carried  by their father ;  sitting in front of the hearth  surrounded by hungry children, with logs ready  to cook  she perhaps pretended to console them  with  the  story and picture that food was on the way. Father never reached ; outlet of the cave was blocked with snow ; the children and mother all died of prolonged fasting.  

 Picture revealed  how  harsh was the life of our ancestors!

Sipra's Diary.>>."..MEMOIR , Democracy, literature ...."[. July,2026]

 

     [about Memoir,  Democracy in literature, ….

Words 472

                     

Autobiography or Memoir is written on the basis of one’s ability to collect memories, as one needs to retain or mark the past events and images.

We passed through variety of experiences and covering the whole gamut of emotions in life: Joys and sorrows, love and hate, loss and gain.

 I take part in several memoir classes of seniors.  We share our stories with one another in memoir classes. The focus of most seniors highlight the negative side of life: Such as disease(like cancer),death of beloved near and dear one, neglected and tortured childhood, painful delivery of baby or loss of baby, unhappy marriage ending in divorce, victim of rape, racism, survival of holocaust and so on. These are really hard part of life which is too painful to forget. But isn’t life something more?

    Why fun, humor, at least  experience of occasional stupidity that are experienced in everyday life are so rare to  share  with  the readers to make  them laugh? Bright side of life  remain often shadowed in most memoirs. 

Chirle Chaplin once said,” A day without laughter is a day wasted; laughter is the tonic, a relief from pain. “

    Really, life is a tragedy when seen in close up, but become comedy in long shot; So better to view life not through microscope, but telescope. 

Memoir is a kind of psychotherapy. Sad moments loose the edginess through catharsis; it becomes metamorphosis in the process of long gap of time !

    In my perception literature is turning to be feminine in gender; female contribution in poetry, fiction, children’s book, and specially cook books and  memoirs  is greater/ larger than that of  the  counter gender. From the latest trend it seems to me that library and bookstores will be flooded with cook-books and memoir(of the female), except  academic books for the schools and colleges. 

Is it the future of our literature? Is it desirable at all in literary world?

It is global pride for the greater participation of women due to the development of  girls’  education..  But there should be balance in every field.

‘Law of diminishing returns’ in Economics is not desirable in literature at all.

Then what causes this imbalance or discrepancy?

Is it that interest of male is declining   in literature? Or, piles of cookbooks and personal memoirs are occupying/ (invading!) the intellectual field? In the battle of quality Vs quantity, the quantitative progress should be controlled; so that it does not   supercede  Quality.

It doesn’t indicate the uprising of literature.

 

Under the preference and blessing of internet, number of writers are growing  more than that of  readers. In this age of Podcast, Instagram,  spotify etc.  people have neither time nor interest  to read lengthy pieces . 

        Literature is same as the Garden of Eden; Whom to pray to save it from being occupied by weeds and parasites?  To Athena or  to Minerva? or Saraswati  or to surrender  at the alter of AI  or ChatGpt?

                                                                                    ......

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Sipra's Diary: BANKCRUPTSY OF ARISTOCRACY

           

**************************************************

Bankcruptsy of Aristocracy:  w:148/L:30--Sipra Roy 

 Awake Washington, awake Lincoln,
 Can't you see the new 'Towers of Powers'
 Actually announces your powerlessness'!
 Once the 'sniffy tycoon of 5th avenue,

 East Manhattan, J.P Morgan, Come out!
 Come out Rockerfellar, Carnegie Melon, 

 Bursting forth your tombs to save your land!

Look, some crimson red stars from your flag

Are becoming pale, losing past glare!
Your glory along aristocracy is shifting to strangers,
Who have the least contribution or legal claim!

The wind from the Atlantic  ocean
Carries the sigh, and cry of the river Hudson; So long
The view of Hudson was shared by the common!
But now the rise of mega-rich boom eclipsed the sun.

        Who is there  now to lead
The rise of New York's outrageous fortune
Trudging to the right path: as a tribute to the nation?
Recall the old spirits! recall  some neo- Rockefeller
                   For resurrection !.

                * ---------------------------*

Words :148                                                                                 lines:30        Para :6

******************************************************

Sipra'sDiary: with commentary: " WAILING WAVES">

             "Wailing  Waves"

In the beginning this vast  earth  

Was Surrounded by only water of  oceans;

Our  earth  snatched land out of  it !

So ocean howls to scoop and  grab 

His  once  lost land to own!

Watching waves  of   the ocean 

Is somewhat like meditation!

Whether high or low no matter                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               To observe them is fun and wonder; 

How are they  restless and never tired!

The ocean roars in rage that echo

From  the shore up to the  sky

To convey the message :

"I store so much spirit and romance

 In the depth of my wounded  heart,

 I felt  helpless for my robbed part.

  So throughout my life 

 I am restlessly howl-- 

Dashing wildly against the shore

Burst fourth my emotion in silvery foames 

And run along to convey my eternal message,

--"  I love you , I miss you !"........ 

Let me win to own you once again!..............

COMMENTARY :

Last few years the drumbeat for predictions of the modern age about future apocalypses is buzzing : Global warming , ice -melting , climate change,   environmental pollution,  swelling of the ocean water   causing frequent  flood  and deluge have   become alarming to public  concern. Though climate change is a repetition of the old historical evidence since Noha's ark  of Biblical age

Water! Where life bubbles first, is becoming a terror! The earth was

surrounded  by water  in the beginning of creation!

One  fourth of the land we are living has been  once robbed like pirates, from the ocean .

Since then the ocean roars in fury and sends the Waves like a fleet of armies to get back  his  lost land , to reign over the planet earth ,to monopolize  on earth!

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

                                                                                                             

Sipra's Diary >[PP] Poem : " REGRET"// July ,2026

                         Regret 

 To become  more pure, even gold

Needed to be melted  more !

 Human soul, too, becomes enlightened  

If it is tormented more by emotional fire.

Regret generates from ‘forgive and forget’

We can't forgive until we are tormented,

Lament is self-repentance by inner judgment 

And not by any outer element!.................

 

I regret so many times for failure of not doing,

What I wished to do for some near and dear ones;

They passed away in silence without any grievance.

I can't forgive my lackluster or deliberate  negligence!

I regret for counting  meaningless sentimental thorn;

Which is tiny, still enough power to prick pain!

**********************************************************************

Sipra's. Diary : @@@ MONOLOGUE>. Why can't I?

      MONOLOGUE

                            
"If happy little bluebird can fly,

O, why, why can't I ?"...........

   I was listening to the music; ... true,  why am I lagging behind the time?
 
Why can't I overcome my shortcoming? Why, why do I fail to keep in pace and rhythm !  If I can't then 

 I  will lag behind the time.   I am suffering for my. incompetence of tech-knowledge. I went library and some senior centre to fulfil the purpose but in. vain. most seniors are interested in  learning only social

 media; Facebook  WhatsApp, photo, music, games ,   movie etc and not more than that; The instructor 

also was in service for the majority. Nobody

had an interest in learning MS words or other things. I wanted to learn thoroughly like a student in

school/college.

I wish some philanthropist to come and teach people like us who are  still eager to learn, to walk

with  the rhythm of time.

In this technology-driven world, people have  to grasp  over technology well .

I love writing.; and I wanted to protect my stuff.  But very often they become vanished.  So  being

frustrated I tried to go back to the traditional land of pen and paper. But the computer  fascinated

me so much in a short period that I lost the old track. In this conflict between computer and pen

and paper, I am confused to decide where should I land my pad-craft to sprinkle  ink and  convert my

thought into script /print?  Under the pressure of this dilemma, my writing spirit began to dwindle.

My brother suggested  me to take a job in the library,  post-Office or  in StarBucks,  since every institution

is digital, It may be helpful for me.

I can try in the library in my neighbourhood. I have to be a volunteer as a computer teacher  for the

Beginner class for a certain period.   Hope I' am able enough to take the "beginners ' class with my

 limited digital knowledge.

 But, Instead of that, why not to try in a publishing house?

             Pioneering ventures into little known waters?

                                                                              "Wading in water,/Wading in water".......