Sipra's Diary:"SECRET ENEMY">> [From "Eyes Are Notorious]"

                       Secret Enemy  (  Poem)

                  W=156  lines=25

 

I overhaul my life in search of secret dragon

Who keeps me restless by chasing all along 

I dissect the emotional sphere layer by layer

In the abyss of solitary lab of my mind, 

Surprisingly, detected the larking beasts in me: hope and fear!

 

Scary fear in thorny cactus remains embracing me

While opposite side of dark tunnel flickering

Light of enchanting 'hope' mysteriously beckoning

To allure me by dream and flame of new life!

 

Driven by failure frustration, ambition or anger,

Bewildered   ego sometimes aggressive but 

Mostly submissive, optioned to surrender

Like a coward. I never struggled  to win over!

 

I survived by neither courage nor wisdom, 

But surrendering to social culture and custom

To mute fear or hope: two opposites forces

Waves of time tackles the battle to keep balance

Like a snail I sheltered  under the shell of patience!

Sometimes surrender or patience are  best weapons 

To win over the emotional dragons !

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Sipra's Diary:[From "Eyes Are Notorious".REV]-- "SINGULARITY"

 SINGULARITY   Sipra Roy 

Bond of bio-sex knells the bell;

This is the last generation

Of male and female 

As love between gender turns out to be

Burnt out candle!

The New Age opens the relational screen 

With new emerging gender Singularity! 

'Singularity' is the only answer of the future.

 

What causes this great fall? 

Who will make Humpty- dumpty 

Together united  again?

 

Nature is no more their cupid

To align them; as it failed to cope with

 The deal of  birth control ‘pill’.

 

The pill  shook the  marital plinth violently,

Losing the key to  save  sacred  fidelity.

Which sustained the strength of age-old integrity.

 

Is there any chance to go  back

To the lost pavilion of the land, 

To play in the 'Garden of Eden'

For a New start again?

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Sipra's Diary : (Poem) > " BOHEMIAN"........Dec//2025

 

  BOHEMIAN      (modified-1)25-4-23

Words-233// page-1                Lines-36

 

My husband passed away by sudden cerebral attack,

Shortly after he came to Calcutta and purchased a flat.

Since I mostly remained inside, as never being an extrovert;

That made my curious neighbors to keep eyes on me, alert .

    

People of   the  new  neighborhood often asked me,

With some cautious suspicion and sympathy :

“What do you do alone? ‘Don’t you feel boring?

The words hurt the wounds of my widowhood.

 

Usual answer flares from anger,’ N-not really’;

 I retaliated in bitterness to the apparent well-wishers!

They exchanged shocked glances with one aother!......

I   sparked some more unusual words:

 

“For me the day is always too short to manage everything;

As the invisible part of my inner-self leaves me seldom alone;

A unique spirit of ‘diversity’ always remains  embracing  me !”

Thus I get rid of emotions, by blocking their conversation!

 

In my secret den I stored lots of fun and pain,

Like a child with Lego-pieces I played with them! 

Sometimes my brain fueled or foamed in fury

To divulge some fertile magma in words, unless---

 

The treacherous wall-clock alarmed my daughter to yell

“It’s twelve O clock! You shouldn’t be awake  so late ;

What do you do throughout the long empty day?”

 

How to explain   as ‘time and tide’ wait for none,

My wave of thought also prefers to be bohemian!

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Sipra's Diary: [Poem ]Creation -in Crack.

[Na.Contest]UNISON IN GENESIS……..[.>Creation –in-crack]

Lines=  19 // words=  112

 

Nothing is born without pain!

Cracking the rock or soil

Peep the seedling;

Breaking the egg-shell 

Comes out birdling;

And tearing the womb baby sees first light!

 

Splitting the roaring cloud flashes the lightning

New ideas are released stirring the brain;

Behind every new birth there is pain!

All our sense organs work, knocking the universe 

From Big Bang to buzzing bees 

All sounds burst out to release!!

 

Piercing the vocal chord music streams out

A poem springs from the bosom of heart

Out of   sheer pain or pleasure,

Just as flower blooms shattering the clutch of buds.

Pleasure is momentary, but pain is 

Too innate in us to get over !

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Sipra's Diary: From. ( MEMOIR) Dec//2025

21th April 2025,

“Colonnade”building.

I heard something surprising to me  that  king cobra stops eating anything two months before death. It stays inside its hole . Some other living beings also follow the same rule. I was surprised to think how the lower specie get themselves ready for death while human can't !  

 Is 'instinct' in lower specie is more powerful than 'intelligence' of human specie?

Many times I don't feel hungr . Yet I used to run breakfast,lunch, dinner as a  routine before taking medicines. But last two weeks I take 1 piece bread with tea and one table spoon cornflakes with half cup milk and feel heavy till the evening .Remembering  about the nature of  king cobra I ask myself 'is it indicating that my end of life is nearing ? 

But I was neither worried nor afraid for death!  Instead a little curious and courageous in my own room to face death without any pain , disease or surgery. 

Then I remembered the last words of my mother in the hospital before a weak of her death:

Lying on the bed with closed eyes my mother said with calm voice,

    "You know, it is a great lie that even a wretched  human  is           'ready to die' ; all human cling to life!

So my present thought about death is no doubt ‘fake’.

In last 20 years I have faced similar thought about fake death!

I remembered .............

[*Mrs Kripalni passed away on this day in Mumbai in the“SUBIDHA’hospital]15 years ago!. .....15 years!

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Sipra's Diary: [From Eyes Are Notorious]- "FUGITIVE."

 

        Fugitive       

         L= 22    

They come, the foreign words;

They come in my sleep,

Knock me to wake up;

The words! The Captive words rebel,

Spinning   rattling and hurling 

Against  the wall of my skull.

I hear their noisy call in slumber,

“Get up, please release us”!

I console: ‘ relax, till the sun is up!’

 

I recall those nocturnal nutty guests

In my chosen time of rest;

But get no response to my request.

I search  them, summon them in vain.

I fail to trace them anywhere: far or near;

Lost like a faded echo in the air,

Before I trace them in ink and paper.

 

The white paper stares at me blank,

My pen lies idle on the wooden plank!

Though I dive deep for those captives 

But they prefer to become fugitive!

  

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Sipra's Diary : [ from my Eyes are Notorious ] "Buds-in-Clasps"]

 

          Buds-In-Clasps 

Some poems are genuine 

From my  own  heart 

Born like a fountain from the mountain,

While some are created 

Like a test-tube babe in the lab.

Some are hybrid, fused with chewed matter,

Old wine in new bottle with added flavor!

Now it is hard to decide, which one to invite 

To open her veil in the enlightened elites' vale!

The natural shy one may not be shining 

Somewhat odd and novice, but very much my own.

To appear in the publishing house 

Should I   deck them with wordy glamor

And modulate them with catchy costume

Or find some mentor  to censure the volume?

No,-never!

Rather let them remain as clasped- in buds 

In my dark cupboard,

Until welcomed by nature 

To blossom and spread fragrance in the air !

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