3 Review(s)

Title Poem (for Inspiration)Drenched with the darkness, a silent uncanny night,Crawling through the way of mine, too fast to wade;Some shadows, did seem, floating here and there,Alone in the dark, with the host of the dead.Beneath the wide and starry and bared sky, nearby,Who is there? Whispering; “No Fear, Be Brave, Be Brave!Watch out O’ Dear, the lost traveller of light—You are on my chest, upon a long untouched grave.”Confounded, still for a while, scared by the grousing flaccid din,And a long howl; cracked the thick creepy clandestine wave;Chilled sensation; same words again of that cloaked whisperer,“Don’t Panic, O’ Dear, Accept the Fate, Be Brave, Be Brave!”Weary consciousness, as the thin air steering through hair,Again—“O’ Dear do me a favour to quench my last known desire;Help me to find out my man and my son; I’m dying to meet,Last I have seen them with me, trapped in a deadly hellish fire.”Those words started echoing through my heart and my soul,Mighty unconsciousness suddenly took me to her lap;A son, a couple, I saw in the fire, scared by the shadow of death;I stretched my hand, said come, but failed to manage the gap.Again the darkness and the mist, as slowly getting fade and pale,The misty shroud first whiten, then ashen, then become dark;Suddenly, I found myself in the gush, insurgent, vigorous,As some intangible liveliness steering me for a steady embark.A dim mystic glow on eyes, knocked me, I found myself in the wood,Sycamores, lithe vines glowing dim, no darkness no howl no grave;Only some words still being echoed through my heart and my soul,As the ode of eternity, “Don’t Panic O’ Dear, Be Brave Be Brave!”Bewildered by the happening, I witnessed; a dream or a fact?As the journey I made, through an unknown history of the past;But happy for the lesson from that unknown apparition I meet,The life must meet the death, but neither the desire nor the lust.Still, when I travel through the darkness in my way of life towards,When, alone in the science, I feel scared by some strange repulsive wave,I can hear the murmur of that unknown whisperer of the long lost past,“Don’t Panic O’ Dear, I am with you here. Be Brave, Be Brave!”About the Author:Dhiraj Das, an author and poet (creator in his words) was born at Nimtita in Murshidabad, West Bengal. He has completed his MCA from IGNOU. Though an IT professional, his thirst of poetry makes his poetic style unique. He considershis poetry writing as his hobby of playing with words, thoughts and rhyme. Moreover, his poetic creed is characterised with an extreme fusion of emotion and reality, imaginative and factual truth and philosophy of manifestation of emotions from different dimension and with different resonance.Walking With the Dead is his first collection of poetry.