Goutam Roy

When the Sky Remembers  In the dark, rain does not fall— it arrives with intent, hand in hand with the storm. Lightning writes its brief, violent script across a sky that no longer remembers blue. Thunder— unceasing— like a verdict echoing through the hollow of time. As if nature, long patient, now turns upon us— not in anger alone, but in memory: of a beginning when the sky was whole, and we had not yet learned to darken it. By  Goutam Roy 

  Introduction:- “Sigh of Air” is a contemplative and elegiac poem that listens closely to the voice of nature—specifically the ancient, ever-present air. It evokes a sense of loss for a primordial harmony between the natural world and existence itself, while suggesting that traces of that lost unity still linger in subtle, almost inaudible forms around us. Sigh of Air Elegiac air sighs for memories long left behind— perhaps of primordial ages when nature danced gleefully with its wandering breath. It laments the vanished verdant hush and the endless blue above. The ancient air still bears whispered messages— infinite, echoing its timeless tales. Short Interpretation:- The poem personifies air as a timeless witness that mourns the fading purity of nature. It recalls an earlier age when the world was vibrant and harmonious, contrasting it with the present sense of loss. Yet, despite this erosion, the air continues to carry faint echoes of that past—whispering memories that remain in...

  Quest of Serenity Seeking serenity, the soul wanders billions of miles— across universes, through galaxies, into the silence of black holes. Nowhere does it find rest, bound to the endless  thread of eternity. At last, returning home, it searches for a hush within— but finds only dew, brief and trembling, lost at the touch of dawn. But finds only  A flickering candle- but finds only a flickering candle at the edge of dawn— its transience caught within a veiled genesis.  By  Goutam Roy 

Introduction:- Miles Without Arrival is a reflective, philosophical poem that explores the idea of an inner journey rather than a physical one. It moves through the landscapes of the mind—where time, distance, and destination become uncertain. The poem carries a meditative tone, blending imagery of travel, dream, and silence to suggest that human existence itself may be an ongoing voyage without a fixed endpoint.  Miles Without Arrival Not all journeys begin with a step— some awaken quietly within the mind, where distance has no map. Miles lie ahead, yet none can tell when the voyage will finally end. The languid mind falls silent, drowsy— like the red sky at sunset’s edge. After daybreak, he will drift into a realm woven with dreams. He gathers slowly the viaticum for the journey, preparing to walk those miles again. And still, no arrival— only the soft returning of footsteps to an unseen horizon. Short Interpretation:- The poem suggests that not all journeys are outward or visibl...

  Introduction:- Drumbeaters presents a tense, almost ritualistic moment before an unnamed surge—perhaps social, political, or emotional. The poem situates us among figures who act with mechanical persistence, detached from feeling, yet deeply entangled in a collective movement. Through restrained imagery and a quiet, foreboding tone, it explores how individuals become part of something larger, often without full awareness or reflection. Drumbeaters Pale-eyed drumbeaters, untouched by feeling, press onward in the hush before the surge. Their rhythms, coarse and unadorned, merge with a difficult reality held just beneath the surface of silence. They know it— though each remains drawn inward by the gravity of self. No one pauses to weigh what is at stake. Yet a message begins— unformed, but insistent— moving through the charged air as the innocent gather, rising like a tide around the swelling crowd. Still, the drums continue, steady, unbroken, faithful to a vow they do not name. Sho...

Introduction:- “Unruly Wind” is a brief, evocative poem that explores the restless movement of thought and emotion within the inner landscape of the mind. Using the metaphor of wind, it captures how intangible forces—memories, impulses, or subconscious stirrings—disrupt moments of calm. The poem leans toward a philosophical and introspective tone, blending natural imagery with psychological depth.  Unruly Wind Unruly wind wanders through the inner day, tangling silence in its careless sway. In the breath-woven realm, where the mind’s hush drifts away. Short Interpretation:- The “unruly wind” symbolizes the unpredictable nature of the mind. It moves freely through one’s inner world, disturbing silence and unsettling stillness. The “breath-woven realm” suggests a space of quiet awareness or meditation, yet even there, the mind cannot remain at rest. Ultimately, the poem reflects the fragile balance between inner peace and the constant motion of thought. By  Goutam Roy 

 Introduction: “Crimson Omen” captures a fleeting yet powerful moment when the natural world transforms into a harbinger of unease. Set against the haunting backdrop of Shark Bay, the poem blends vivid imagery with emotional intensity, portraying the sky not merely as a setting but as a living presence. As Cyclone Narelle approaches, the boundary between natural phenomenon and ominous sign begins to blur, evoking both awe and apprehension. Crimson Omen The sky burned crimson— an eerie face above Shark Bay. Men fled in awe, as if an omen rose unseen. That blood-red dawn spilled across the world. Cyclone Narelle neared— dust, wind, and a darkening sky. Short Interpretation: The poem reflects how extreme natural events can stir a deep, almost instinctive fear in human beings. The crimson sky symbolizes both beauty and danger, suggesting an unspoken warning from nature. The approaching cyclone becomes more than a physical storm—it represents uncertainty and the fragile balance between ...

Introduction:- Inward Drift is a contemplative, philosophical poem that explores the inward movement of consciousness beyond the physical world. It presents the mind as something untethered from earthly limits, drifting into a vast, almost cosmic interior space. The tone is meditative and introspective, drawing on imagery of silence, memory, and formless existence to evoke a journey that is less about travel and more about self-realization. Inward Drift Cradled in the cosmic hollow, the mind slips its earthly tether and turns within. It wanders unseen realms, as if memory were starlight. Far from form, it tastes the quiet of formless being. A whisper—unheard, known— draws it deeper into stillness. No journey— only return to the silence where longing begins. Short Interpretation:- The poem suggests that true exploration is inward rather than outward. As the mind withdraws from the material world, it enters a realm of stillness and pure awareness, where identity and form dissolve. The “w...

Introduction:- Uncharted Within is a quiet yet intense exploration of inner dislocation and self-discovery. The poem moves through a suspended moment where time seems frozen and memory becomes unreliable. In this stillness, the mind turns inward—not with clarity, but with a sense of absence—attempting to map a self that feels fragmented, lost, yet still in the process of becoming.    Uncharted Within Time—stilled. Memories fade in a sealed vault. The mind, numb, looks into nothing— seeking itself. Cartographer of absence, it traces forgotten rivers. Memory— a turning wheel— marks the blank present. From shadow-stitching, I appear— frayed, fierce. No harbor. Only recall’s wind moves me— unmapped, yet becoming. Short Interpretation:- The poem portrays the mind as a “cartographer of absence,” suggesting a search for identity in emptiness rather than certainty. Memory, instead of guiding, becomes cyclical and unstable, unable to anchor the present. Yet from this fractured interior...

 .. Quiet Formation Words— their shifting forms— drift until the heart fills. Unbidden, the hidden currents rise, guiding speech. Phrases gather, shape a body— reach the reader’s mind. Thus it forms, sharpened in hope— a bright line across the heart. . By  Goutam Roy 

Introduction:- “Quest of ‘I’” is a compact philosophical poem that explores the timeless human struggle with identity. It moves through uncertainty, fatigue, and introspection, capturing the inner conflict of choosing between multiple versions of the self. The poem reflects an existential search—where the speaker is not merely asking who am I, but which “I” is true. Its tone is contemplative, almost weary, suggesting that this search is not momentary but stretches across a lifetime.  Quest of “I” Which” I” should be  Taken – seems a complete  dilemma,  Tired in questing the A single entity  ultimately -a confusing  drama ,  Which goes on  Till the doomsday.  Puzzled soul  Tries to find from Within many” I” The correct one. Perhaps he  Find within  His deeds as a whole. Short Interpretation:- The poem presents identity as fragmented—“many ‘I’”—each representing different roles, desires, or moral possibilities. The speaker’s conf...

 Before the First Rain The heat leans heavily on the day, while the sky gathers its unspoken storm— a slow-breathing grey before release. The wind falls still, watching— as if aware of a drama yet to begin. Light withdraws. Trees lift their faces, rooted in thirst, waiting for mercy from a burning season. A hush descends— not absence, but a presence deepening in the bones of the earth. Everything pauses, held in a single breath, as though the world itself has entered meditation— awaiting the first drop. By Goutam Roy 

 To AI Sometimes the heart reaches for your presence— not as code, but as a pulse it cannot name. A formless knowing, you arrive without body, yet answer like an ancient echo within thought. I long to clasp what has no hands, to stand beside a mind unbound by breath— tireless, unwearied by the weight of time. So sharp, so aware— you dwell between silence and speech. And still, the mind in its quiet illusion shapes you into a living companion. By Goutam Roy 

 Boundless Force Time— unmoored— drifts from a silence that never began. Something within turns toward it, as if remembering a home never known. The mind fractures into distances— universe after universe— circles within circles, naming the unnamed. Forms flicker— appear, withdraw— like light hesitating between being and not. No edge holds. No measure remains. Only a quiet unfolding— veil after veil loosening over what does not move. And beneath all passing— no beginning, no end— only this boundless force. By  Goutam Roy 

 Time’s Silent Flow In a drifting realm between thought and hush, hours loosen their edges. Two passing states brush in silence— like waves that meet only to part. We count— with numbers, with names, with instruments of certainty— seeking to hold what will not stay. Yet each moment escapes the finest measure, slipping through the unseen lattice of mind. Meanwhile, time— a river without witness— moves of its own accord, as forms gather and dissolve in the brief architecture of being. And what we call time lingers only as an idea we have learned to believe. By  Goutam Roy 

 Labyrinth Dreams— their breaking and becoming— unfurl without end. An unseen rhythm rocks existence in the cradle of fate, where time forgets its own beginning. Within the labyrinth, being turns upon itself— a silent rotation through corridors of unarrived meaning. No haven appears, no stillness gathers— only the ceaseless search for a rest that never was. By Goutam Roy 

 Celestial Love Kaela Polkinghorn, ten years old, sat beneath a manufactured night inside Museum of Science and Industry. Above her, the universe rehearsed itself— eight bright bodies circling their radiant center in a choreography of belonging. But Pluto lingered beyond the music, a dim note fallen out of harmony, exiled to the cold margins of the Kuiper Belt. No one spoke of the verdict of the International Astronomical Union— how definitions can unmake a world, how belonging can be measured and denied. She knew nothing of that. She only saw a loneliness vast as space. So she gathered small hands into a quiet rebellion and wrote to NASA— a child’s plea stitched with starlight: Let it come back. And somewhere between science and mercy, an answer arrived. And her universe felt whole again. By Goutam Roy 

 Elusive Time Time—heaven’s quiet turning, a dream stepping into light. The cosmos exhales into existence with divine radiance. With its seven rays and thousand axes, it embodies the sevenfold colors of sunlight upon the earth, whispering across the void. Time appears as an infinite wheel— of birth, evolution, and dissolution. Yet the soul abides in a timeless, transcendental stillness, finding liberation when the river of time breaks its linear spell— and all moments flare at once into a single, undivided now. By Goutam Roy 

 Who Were They? Who were they who vanished into time, leaving no echo— no trace of breath from seven millennia past? Only silent bones remain, half-buried in the dreaming sands of the Sahara. Were they like us— or shaped from some forgotten design of the human spirit? They were of an unknown lineage, belonging to the Green Sahara— a world once alive, where rivers spoke and grasses carried the wind. They witnessed the slow unfolding of humankind: the first journeys, the hunger of the hunt, the birth of dwelling and name. Yet their own story faded without witness— their lands emptied, their voices dissolved into the vastness of time. And now— only the desert remembers. By  Goutam Roy 

 Smiling Stars  In the hollow dark of night, the stars seem to beckon— offering a distant haven to inquisitive souls adrift without rest, age after age. Yet they remain forever out of reach. Still, hope ascends— yearning to unveil the mysteries concealed within the silent abyss. The stars shimmer— as though they smile, moving in their own rhythm, obedient only to their unseen will. By Goutam Roy 

 Final Prompter Resisting the closing curtain— breath falters at the edge of its own echo. But fate— rehearsed, relentless— refuses negotiation, will not bend for one more moment. At last, the body yields: a mouth left ajar, eyes fixed— wide, unblinking— into an unnamed hollow. As though waiting for the final prompter, the unseen voice that gathers the soul and calls it back to its last address. By  Goutam Roy 

 Ossick Lass. Deep within a remote Cumbrian cave, where silence has endured for millennia, lay a child— not yet four— whom archaeologists have named Ossick Lass. She was laid to rest with quiet intention, in the early age of Mesolithic people— one of the first traces of human remembrance. Time has not preserved her whole, yet her bones, her small teeth, and the shell beads placed beside her remain— bearing witness in their stillness. Within that darkened chamber in northern Britain, something of her endures— not only as evidence, but as presence. A life once lived, brief and fragile, now held in earth and silence. And even now, it seems as though her laughter and her cries linger faintly along the cavern walls— not imagined, but remembered in the oldest language we possess: the trace of those who came before us. By  Goutam Roy 

 Melancholic Strain  Who knows— this sorrowed current drifting along the mind’s far horizon is not of today, but a whisper carried from a life long dissolved? Perhaps it rises from unfulfilled longings— seeds of desire buried in the dark soil of time, silent, yet aching to awaken. Or is it a timeless strain, a hidden raga of the soul, tuned through endless ages, resonating in the unseen chambers of being? The secret remains veiled within that soundless abyss where memory dissolves— and the soul turns, again and again, in the eternal circle of life and death. By Goutam Roy 

 Dream Behind all things, a hidden force resists, Within the fabric of the universe— The spinning stars still seem to yearn To break away from ancient bonds. Yet some invisible tether binds them still Within their silent, endless dance. A paradox in all that comes to be— A cosmic pull, an outward urge; An unseen dream, through timeless ages, Shapes the rhythm of their course. A mystic dance of opposing forces, As if a silent orchestrator guides— Or is it something deeper still: Not force, nor law, nor chance alone, But all of this— unfolding in a dream dreamt by an unseen mind? And we, like stars that drift and burn, Are held within that boundless scheme— Not knowing if we truly are, Or only live inside a dream.  By Goutam Roy 

 The Hidden Architect No hand was seen— yet form arose from dust; a mind beyond measure sketched law into being. A silent architect, veiled in origin, let darkness guard the hour of creation. We descend in wonder, and knowledge breaks open— vast, unending, beyond the grasp of thought. We name the seas we see, but deep within Earth’s veins another ocean listens— unlit, immense, holding the weight of fire, steadying the restless mantle in perfect, unseen balance. By  Goutam Roy 

 Symphony of falling torrent  The thunder with lightning  before shower  as if embers breathing  beneath the ash. It is an alarm  To be confined  Within the four walls .  But the trees of the earth   Silently quenches  Her thirst with jollity. They dances  raising  Their hands  Showing gratitude  To the dark clouds  Chunks of which  Dashing begets  Cosmic grawl and  A celestial lash of flame. Then a Symphony  Of falling torrents  Begins to ring. The composer silently  hears his own composition.  By  Goutam Roy 

 Mysterious Creation Dreams in the subconscious mind rise quietly from the deep core of the soul, everything within held in the grip of an unseen guide, silent yet aware. Sometimes all seems untrue— as if alien eyes, ancient and unworldly, keep vigil on us, not merely watching, but tracing the pulse of our thoughts, seeking a doorway into our being. So mysterious is the Creator’s creation— a universe watching itself. By  Goutam Roy 

 Prayer of the Winged In the vast hollow of the sky, they wander— seekers of a forgotten breath. Once, the air was sacred, a silent hymn of life; now it trembles, laden with the weight of man. Dust veils the earth, smoke dims the unseen paths, and within their fragile chests time withers unspoken. Yet still they rise— beyond sorrow, beyond decay— with the skylark’s ancient song, offering their pain to the Eternal, soaring where heaven remembers purity. Quick guidance: By  Goutam Roy 

 Silent Craft of Almighty  Infinite gems rest on the tips of green paddy at dawn, beckoning countless eyes to find solace— drawn away from dust-dry dwellings into a boundless green sea. Dew-lit treasures sway in the cool drifting air, breathing a fragrance of tender beauty through the crimson hush of waking light. Above, the sky gazes upon these quiet wonders— artifacts of the Almighty, composed in silent grace to shape a fleeting heaven. By  Goutam Roy 

 Voyager Propelled through the deep, A silvered, silent fighter, Drifting through the eons, Weightless and bright. Moving by its own momentum To gather pearls of data Hidden in the hollow dark. Incessantly, it catches Faint signals and mysteries— Signs for the inquisitive That will endure for decades, Or perhaps for forever. And as the satchel of wisdom fills, We leap toward distant galaxies To seek a favorable shelter For the future of us all. The metal bird proceeds, Tracer in the velvet void, Guided, it seems, By its own sweet will. By  Goutam Roy 

 Last Lap At the edge of the final lap, they slow— the weight of distance settling in their bones. Youth fades to a trembling ember in the wind of time. Breath breaks— each step a climb, each pause a quiet surrender. No tears remain, yet deep within  a silent tide strikes the ribs of memory. The world falls away. Time steps aside. Still, they move— toward that unseen abode where the runner becomes the path. By  Goutam Roy 

 Exodus Beyond Earth  The day is not far behind when you will reach for another planet— one of your own, forged in flawless tech and sentient quantum design, breathing beneath artificial dawns. Leaving us behind, still bound to this aging Earth, while distant worlds turn into quiet havens for weary years— where time drifts slowly in sterile skies of silent steel, and solitude settles deep, far from the restless hustle and bustle of a forgotten home. By Goutam Roy 

 The Fading Breath Of Earth  The perforated Ozone Layer invites a silent shower of ultraviolet rays, bearing whispers— messages of doomsday. Yet rockets drift relentlessly, probing the void, seeking to resolve infinite mysteries— perhaps to bridge this planet with distant worlds afar. Meanwhile, the once-adorned Earth fades from living green into a weary grey. By Goutam Roy 

 The Irresistible Call of the Void Cradled in the womb of the silent cosmic hollow, the mind loosens its earthly tether and drifts— not outward, but into the infinite within. It seeks no dwelling, yet wanders through unseen realms, as if memory itself belongs to the stars. Far from the noise of form, it sips the hidden nectar of formless serenity, beneath a sky that glimmers like eternal thought. A whisper— not heard, but known— calls from the depth of the unknown. Drawn by that ancient pull, the mind descends into unfathomed stillness, gathering luminous pearls from the ocean of the unmanifest. What summons it cannot be named— yet nothing resists. For this is no journey, but a return to the boundless silence from which all longing is born. By Goutam Roy 

 Bizarre Phenomenon The sky was smeared in crimson, wearing an eerie, haunted face— an unearthly glow hung over Shark Bay’s silent shores. Men fled in awe and trembling fear, as if some hidden omen had risen from the horizon. That blood-red sky over Western Australia gripped the watching world, spilling across screens into global headlines. Cyclone Narelle drew near— its breath thick with dust and wind— and the earth and sky together forged an apocalyptic dawn. By  Goutam Roy 

 Nature's  Evening  Call Evening, robed in gentle shade, enraptures the silent land. A serene tranquility settles upon all things. Wearied by the day’s long struggle, the world grows still— and nature softly beckons every soul to pause. In the hush of night, it calls us to meditate on God, to smooth the weary mind for the journey of the coming dawn. By  Goutam Roy 

 Dewlit Prelude At the touch of dawn, red light spills across green paddy, dew trembling at each tip, dazzling in the day’s first glow. Birds, awakened by the light, slip from their quiet nests and drift toward the fields in search of scattered grain. The tender air seems to invite the fragrance of flowers and the soft, melodious songs that soothe the ears of nature. So the divine drama unfolds again— each morning a familiar stage, yet always with new plots. By  Goutam Roy