Asim Kumar Paul


I want to live for another day,

the sky to be bright,

the air to be cool with no protest,

commodities are not burnt on the way.


I want to live for another day,

I can hear sound of drums of happiness,

roads are not blocked,

I can dream for a long time.


I want to live for another day,

mind can fly, expecting through lights

beaming towards reinvents of hope,

window pans are not closed.


I want to live for another day,

all of us can make their rooms,

no one can miss loved ones,

everyone can speak for everyone’s sake.


I want to live for another day,

I have no waiting list for trails of love,

I just speak of myself,

everyone can hear it, like it.


I want to live for another day,

openion is free and excellent,

everyone can hold hands of everyone,

down to each one’s peaceful resting place.




Roadside gossip-centers carry stories.

Some people gather there, they speak of events around them,

From home-concern to birds’ twittering, they are talking to

References, from life’s conditions to flowers’ blooming,

They simply dedicate their views those are lacking light,

They absorb fragments of life, leaking from unconceived music.

It is their verbal stride from side walk to pendulum’s sway,

That builds essence of ignorance of actual reading of life.


Time is their passing hours, like steam to go squeezed

Over time’s fallen feathers on grass, they ignore this yelling,

They sometimes are so frenetic to disown mind.

Answering to call of mind’s consciousness becomes weird.

It is an impulse that carries blindness and nature’s dismay.

They forget to looking up for light that creates image.

Ascending themselves separately for an imprint is one fumbling dream.

Busy people are passers-by, they will not help gossips.




We are not walking on the same street,

Mind blows with paintings, footsteps with different strides,

Conjoint of streets and dreams, destination to each one’s

Province, where colors are of different shades, each one

Having one future, not like that of other one,

Being painter, one is walking with painting brush and

Color pallets, around one’s journey on the street,

Caught between love and essence of memories,

Little emotions work with strangers over dust on the road.

We move on, return to own nest, live with a difference.


Walking alone,

Little fog around the grass,

Coolness in morning.




Dialogue continues for an hour, how you follow words,

How you ripple is feeling of iteration, inside a bus, all along,

It is also speaking about love, children, burns, brains, gains,

It is about notion you come about your means and methods.


The bus is moving in six-lane road, – boundary, aspects of life,

Drizzling, sun-burn, frost bite, sound of air-horn, sound of

Air-friction, red-yellow-green light signals, processions, banners,

All get ripe like tides, yet dialogue continues, inch by inch.


Passengers pass through boundary, immense anxiety on faces,

Thin progress in dialogue cuts short of results, they breathe,

Entering into conflicting world, they feel crammed inside bus.

Time limit vents through fear that they move through odds.


A pair of white birds moves together, flying to discover

Permissive love and falls each other’s wings, for next nest,

Passengers look at their free travelling in air, and get

Annotated with joy, but birds are in unspeakable pursuits.



Asim Kumar Paul is a retired person. He is of 66 years of age. He lives with his wife at Kharagpur town, West Bengal, India. He has four publications of poetry books, 1. Three Poems (2005), 2. Winter Shade to His Liking (2007), 3. Azure (2010). These three books are praised by eminent poet, Dr Benjamin Zephaniah of UK. His fourth poetry book is Poetry Album (2014) and one poetry brochure SCULPTURE (2015)  Asim has two poetry blogs 1. 2. Asim’s full Bio-data is at the link,