The Garden

Dense boughs and variegated blooms
    That well-festooned a garden
Are dying as November births
    Pellucid forms that harden
On them, my attic's roof, and grass.
   
Now every morning when I pass
    This place, once deeply green,
A stark, white blandness greets my eyes;
    No colour's to be seen.
But still, I thank the gardener who,

With high élan, prepared the view
    For all to like last spring.
He knows: next April, once again,
    This fertile spot will bring
Fresh leaves and blossoms like before.

I step into the garden's door
    Located in my heart
And wish to plant sweet buds of love
    For those now far apart—
Shunned kindred and deserted friends—

So when my wintertime ascends
    And I begin to harden,
Watching my frame, they'll think about
    The joy drawn from this garden
Whose soil will never yield again.

Black and White

The happy wind was singing to
September’s maiden day;
The friendly Sun was clinging to
The hillcrest and the bay;
And man with his assertive crown,
Proceeded through this vibrant town;
No hurdle clogged his way.

The girls were lowly chunnering,
And boys were raucous, yelling;
The pink-tinged clouds were colouring
The heaven’s vault, their dwelling;
But not one being, large or small,
Had the minutest clue at all
What rainfrogs were foretelling.

At noon, a bellow from the skies
Alarmed the birds in flight,
The spendthrift shoppers’ sated eyes
Shrank low from shock and fright;
Each shuffling soul then rushed to find
A roof or shelter of some kind;
The day appeared as night.

But far away, that leaden clime
Perked up the rural men,
Their fields lay bare all summertime—
No raindrops fell since then;
But those oppressive days had flown,
The fields were wet, their faces shone,
And life revived again.

How strange and polar nature is,
How magical its plan!
How orderly it metes out bliss,
And hopelessness to man!
Just as it did to us that day:
With its stormy onrush turned one gay,
And turned the other wan.

“Black and White” first appeared in Westward Quarterly.

Shamik Banerjee is a poet from India. His poems have been published in Sparks of Calliope, The Hypertexts, Lighten Up Online, Westward Quarterly, and Disturb The Universe.