Last Day on a Planet

The fire in it engulfed the sun,

A great tragedy, scorching in its own flames.

On a mountain’s lap, the melting sun dropped down

The smouldering mountains rushed to the oceans’ beneath,

The calm oceans slowly stood up to file a complaint,

A perilous siren echoed in each throbbing heart,

The great man-made tragedy of Nagasaki and Hiroshima knocked at the door of life.

The highest waves in the ocean cleaned all the garbage,

And, lightened the weight on the chest of an innocent planet.

The fire of jealousy was distinguished,

The poison of hatred lost its power,

All backbiting jaws were broken,

The action of all venoms vanished suddenly.

The quick sirens brought it to an end, without Noah’s boat,

The finest creation of god misused the magic of the brain.

And, invited the last day mentioned in both the Bible and the Quran.

Sabina Alia,

Nagaon.

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Life Goes On

How often do we show our vulnerability?

How often do we take our masks off?

Well, the answer is,

We all have our struggles going on,

We all have climbed mountains, crossed oceans, escaped volcanoes,

And, amidst that, we learned to hide our pain,

For a world that doesn’t even care!

Is this what we are heading to?

Let us pledge to live more in our own skins,

To let go of prejudices and egos,

To accept the flaws and scars within,

And, let life roll on its own rhythm.

Priyanka Das,

Guwahati.

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Dreams

Little weird things that spelled happiness

All out of her closet,

To revive old moments,

Of days that were carefree,

And, the mind, a wanderer,

A day dreamer, people would say,

Weaving dreams in the sky,

Of living them all, one fine day,

No dreams are ever too low or high.

On a pursuit of true bliss,

Of seconds to live and cherish,

Of all those things that hold good,

Making her a dreamer, in every mood.

Life changes, but dreams are persistent,

All she needs is a little push,

To fulfil all that is in her heart,

And, live a life she longs for.

Urshita Bhuyan,

Guwahati.

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A Love Song

It would be hard to describe

The freshness of a cool breeze

That flows over a garden,

Decorated by tulips and daisies,

You are a breath of fresh air,

Sweeping away all my wretchedness,

I wish you knew.

You are the moon at night

That glows so bright,

Like the moon that never leaves,

Watching and brightening the darkest moments.

Though sometimes weak,

But, sometimes, glowing like the sun of July 23rd.

Gunamoni Baruah,

Guwahati.

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Dawn of Hope

I’ve let winds ruffle my hair,

And, sunrays cast spells on me,

I glance at the azure sky with awe,

For the serenity it bestows

Upon the frazzled soul,

The mountains stand

With all their might,

Shrouded by clouds,

Yet, so robust and unfaltering.

These clouds you see,

Are the chronicles of hushed prayers,

Of the souls in need.

I’ve stealthily let evolve my dawn of thoughts,

To mingle into the horizon of imagination,

Together, it glowed with the rays of euphoria.

It held petals of a hundred stories,

Each had bloomed like the dawn of hope.

Akankshya Hazarika,

Via e-mail.