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Victor Rajkumar
(Assam)
 


Victor Rajkumar (born October 9, 1976) is a computer software professional. He has so far written two books of poetry.  He participated in 2nd International Writers' Festival-India-2006 (21-24 March 2006) organised by IICCA at Kurukshetra, Yamunanagar (Haryana) Paonta Sahib (Himachal Pradesh)  & Haridwar (Uttranchal)
Address :
Victor Rajkumar, Third Eye, Opp. Chik-Mik, B. G. Road(New Balibat), Jorhat – 785001, Assam-India
Phone: +91-9435091199 (M),  Email : jintoov@rediffmail.com


Poems by
Victor Rajkumar

Bridge 

If there is a proposal
For a bridge
To span from my heart
To yours 

How would it be? 

If the bridge were built,
How long
Would it need to be….! 

Or, how broad should  it be
To allow the love
To travel
To and Fro
Comfortably, and quick…! 

If the bridge has pillars!
Rearing waves would beat upon them
Again and again 

Or, if suspended,
By Caress of Breeze,
It would dance and sway… 

Would you feel, frightened? 

You do not need to be.
After chasing away the sunlight,
The evening would sneak up to you
And along with you
Measure the Ebb and Flow 

Leaning upon the railing
Beside you,
Listen to the dreams talking away
Also, listen to
Some one far off,
Piping an unknown tune….
In a corner of the sky
The Moon will hang
And
The Moonbeams will glitter in your Eyes…. 

At night,
The bridge will be guarded by
Vigilant sentries. 

Perhaps,
You won’t be allowed
To stay longer… 

These are Bad-times.
Do not stay out much,
Come away
The Door of my heart will
Remain Open 

You will be welcomed
To rest a while. ☼☼

 

The Fire 

Somewhere there is fire
Somewhere smoke rises 

Somewhere a mid is illumined
Somewhere a throat swells
Somewhere a scream is heard 

Sometimes nearby,
Sometimes far away 

When there’s afire, Hands are Burnt
There is Pain
Blisters form
Sometimes,
A Life comes to an end… 

Where the hands do not suffer burns
Sculptures are created,
Fondness is Forged, there 

When there is Fire
Germs Die.
When a Pyre Burns
Bodies turn into Ashes.
In the Smoke, Flies away Pride… 

When Hearts Burn
There is no smoke
Only, the soul is seared. 

Fire in the Forest
Grays, what was Green ! 

Fire 

In a spark
Or with a flame
Starts
The Game of
Creation or Destruction. ☼☼

 

Hang till Death 

One Man,
Since he qualifies as an Offender
Was brought to Jail. 

The inmates of the Jail
Couldn’t  look into his Eyes
That day. 

Not a single word was uttered !
Invisible flecks of blood
Sprayed like sparks
From his eyes 

Killer of Four ? 

Could be a terrorist
Or a Professional Killer! 

Isn’t the colour of his blood red, then? 

From the day, he was brought to court
Till the Judgment,
He completed a tortuous circuit. 

Did he really know,
How many more breadths
It would take
To stay alive…! 

On the day,
The sentence was readout
Did his legs shake in the Witness Box ? 

Perhaps, his fists trembled,
As the Judge scribbled
The Final Line
“Hang Till Death” 

Deadline of staying alive ?
As the Determined Day,
An appointed Time,
A conclusion to Life…
How cruel must a man be
To condemn another to Death !! 

Perhaps for a moment
He was unable to Break
“The Pen Point”
Which had scrawled
The Sentence of Death. 

Perhaps, Un notices
Two tears trickled down 

Afterwards
Afterwards
The Convict Started 

Another Chapter in his Life
In a Special Cell
Apart from Others… 

And the waiting Started
Waiting for the imminent Death
For a ruthless termination 

How Brave must a man be
To await the Day of His Death… 

☼☼

 


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