The Face That Launched Thousand Ships, NaPoWriMo #8. Prompt : Inspiring words from Poets on a Twitter bot .



The last line from T.S Eliot’s Poem – ” The Wasteland ”

Shantih is a Sanskrit word which means Peace, like eternal peace.


Shantih     shantih     shantih,

For God sake hold your  beauty and let them live

The constant cacophony is tearing me from inside,

The constant state of being numb is just a show on outside,

I am raging and I will not go gentle into the night,

I will pull up my resources and offer you a fanatical fight

The beauty of your face is nothing but a farce,

Though, you might have been the subject of a blind poet’s verse

You unfaltering beauty is a death trap,

For you, Hector is in a frozen nap

You are the root cause of all that is bad upon this land

Slain bodies are lying buried in the sand.

Your face has launched thousand ships

You have brought wrath upon my beloved city

Oh, that is not divine but a cursed beauty

Paris should have been careful,

These nymphomaniacs  made my life woeful

You should burn, you should burn in hell

I have lost my boy, I have lost my city

You must die a thousand death

The people deserve a better place

The history deserves a better queen,

You must be wiped out for the sake of eternal peace

Come, drink this, for you must cease and you must have some peace ….

Shantih ! Shantih! Shantih..

To Bapu with Love, NapoWrimo 7, Poem on a famous news item

#newsitem 30/01/1948 Mahatma Gandhi is dead.



The Nation got a leader,

They termed you as the saviour.

You worked for the farmers

You toiled for the rights of the labourers.

You taught them to boycott

You taught the countrymen to non- cooperate

You marched against the taxing salt law

You just pointed out their flaw(s)

You always imposed things on us

You never took a single step against the imperial Jack

However; you assured that you are having our back,

You spoke about non- violence, yet sacrificed Indian soldiers for them

You took back the non- cooperation movement

Why? What did you desire?

You stopped the spirited fire,

You could have stopped the colonialism of an empire

Your casteism lead to a troublesome neighbour

You were never the saviour

Bapu, you were the Nation’s Error.

Life is Fishy

Life Is Fishy

#NapoWrimo6 #TheSignificantLeague


Oh, Mr Tambourine Man, last song for me,

Oh, I am not supposed to hum a tune to myself

Oh, I am not her anymore

Oh, I am just it now

Na saans hai, Na gender

Bass pani hi paani hai charo taraf…

Oh, once upon a time,

I was a dangling beauty,

With huge round melons and a bootiful booty,

The posh gluttony was the only high,

The orgy parties were the only sigh

Treachery was the lease of life

But, I maintained my image as a dutiful wife

Bath was my hometown

That bugger named Chaucer wrote a few tales

And I became the object of frown

That year it did not rain heavily

People began to store crops mercilessly

People didn’t come out of the house

The fear of contamination was gripping the society

I couldn’t continue my escapades

I starved out of huger

I starved owing to lack of men

I died, I died and then I came again

Here, I am again

Swimming in the lake Swan near the tree

I feel like I have no bond, I am free

Poets are here for my company

Painters are here for my company

Lovers are here for my company

But, I am afraid of those fuckers

Those fuckers come up with fish hooks and catch my kin

Those fuckers eat us up and throw the endoskeleton in the nearby bin

My scales are my possession, so is my left fin.

That curly poet is here with a wavy hair beauty

And they smoke and they sing….


Abby Ka BreakUp


The eccentric etherized lover wakes up from the sluggish slumber

He moves towards the cadaverous gates of Inferno, two in number

Where he is encountered by the mighty deity of Underworld

Abby couldn’t bear the hideous sight of cunning Hades.

Abby loses his vision, deafness hits him hard

Darkness engulfs him, he tries to run like a coward

The putrefied bodies were screeching through his nasal nerves

Thousand splendid suns are charring through his skin

He stumbles upon the fiery ground , tastes the blood

The sweat bead appears upon his forehead

As soon as he receives a blow on his cheek

Look at you Mr. Prufrock , you jackass , hopeless lover

Stop taking those colourful pills, I will get you something real

Get up and show some courage, some manly zeal

Abby! You have wasted your age, chasing them

It’s not Abby, it is Abbishake..

The puny God looks puzzled..

Get up Abby, you jerk

Get up and give them a taste of your manhood

The God of Mischief passes a dose of manhood

Abby regains his senses, he feels good.

He comes out of the Vatican Pub and books an Uber

Inside the modern beast, he becomes momentarily sober

He visits the house of his beloved

The mischievous pill begins the lusty act

He is pillaging the temple of love, he threatens her to surrender

He is tearing the cloth of the virtuous beloved, Moll Flander

He enjoys the demonic act, orgasmic high

And now he decides to cover up the act

Behenchod ! Zinda hi gaar dengey and he begins to cover up the tract.

Eye of Hell, NaPoWriMo 4, An Account of A Dream

Tolkien’s Sauron, a graphical representation of Hell’s eye mentioned in the poem

I could hear the shrill cry, the wailing of babies,

I could hear the heavy breath of the fallen,

As if it was trying hard to step out of the debris

The river was raging, it was terrifyingly swollen.

The eye was watching us,

It was oozing with boils and pus,

It was moving errantly, creating a massive fuss

The burning eye was watching us.

The eye of the Hell was squealing like the tortured Azkaban lunatics,

It was screeching with like the blazing Sauron,

It was pointing finger at the mindless destructions caused by the fanatics,

Then the eye shut itself and the world was gone.

The eye was burning with desire as if it was savouring the smell of the putrified flesh

The world was getting trapped like poisoned prey inside Shelob’s mesh

Everywhere there was a burial of the dead and the Wasteland was echoing the vastness of eternity

It was waiting for a Messiah to save it from the devilish sempiternity.

The profound darkness is the only truth we live in..

However, the sleep was disrupted with a distant scream

I thought it was from her or some distant kin,

I couldn’t feel the physical presence, it was but a dream.

Tavern Galore, NapoWrimo Prompt, Theme : Place, Space, Time


Beyond the eastern horizon of Priam’s palace,

Towards the idol of the celestial beauty,

Beside the blood dimed water of Scamander,

I decided to take a break from daily squander….

Along with the group of fierce Myrmidons,

I pushed away old drunkards and their tedious puns,

I had my divine sip at the Homer’s Inn,

The King of Ithaca raised a giant toast

He shouted, “ To the warriors, alive and the ghost”.

Few drinks later. I saw a brooding physique,

The eyes were Mongolians, bit unique,

Paradise Inn says, welcome to the land of Khan

Here in Xanadu, we have Allah’s aan, baan aur Shaan.

The guy beside me kicked the Abyssinian bartender.

He muttered, “For God’s sake, hold your tongue and let me love.”

He said that the couplets were for his beautiful dove,

Donne offered me a goblet and warned me not to look above…

When I woke up, I noticed a commotion..

There was a brawny brawl beside the dirty pit

Three guys were fighting with a university wit.

The wit took out a dagger and shouted ..

“All live to die and rise to fall”

He was stabbed by a Brutus and he rested by the wall.

The gory bath made me uncomfortable

I fainted and when I woke up, I noticed a stable

A strange dwarfish creature offered me a cup of ale

Prancing Pony was engraved upon the cup

All the Tolkein’s creatures said they were riding above and up

I asked, are you Hobbits? They said, “ Yup.”

The spirit was heavy and it made me delirious

And the next moment, I could see a round spectacled boy with a zigzag scar..

He smiled and said , “ This is Three Broom Sticks Bar,”

“You look tired, have a glass of Butter Beer”

Two racists shouted, “ Harry is with a muggle”

I lost my senses, this time out of fear.

N.B – This is a drunk poem, please rise above the limitations of rhyme scheme..Cheers

Lazy Bum, NaPoWriMo Prompt, Metaphor of Life


The morning starts with the hullabaloo of cook and servant

But the panda takes his own time, as if nothing is urgent

The morning, in reality, is the early afternoon of the day

All the members of the biotic world are busy in the city of bay,

Everyone seems occupied, they are all busy,

But this couch potato hardly moves a tad, he is lazy

The food arrives like the boon of Apollo…

The teddy bear takes a decade to swallow

The sloth bear enjoys the life in slow motion

That is the aim, that is the only notion.

Pure Gold, NapoWrimo Prompt



Rotating like an energetic bull
Relieving me from the delirious weather
You are the newfound idea of being super cool
You are always in service, fluttering your artificial feather
In the days of thunder and the days of cold,
You are the lazy beaver and you act like a retired person, very old.
The tropical heat metamorphoses you into something very bold
You know what? You are in high demand, fuck feelings
Fuck the idea of getting attached to other items in the household
Without your presence, poetic feelings won’t be a reality
You are the actual comrade, you are pure fucking gold.

Leda’s Bird

Leda’s Bird

The world is burning with a question

A question which is haunting humanity,

Humanity is battling all odds, trying to locate the trump card,

And someone came up with the topic of a favorite bird,

Ah, the bird which is the symbol of purity,

Pure and calm, it floats in the lakes of Innisfree..

Free as it is, it is also seen in the water by golden daffodils,

Daffodils and these fouls are fluttering with the sway of winds,

Wind becomes it’s driving force and it comes crashing upon the thighs..

Thighs were caressed and thus the gentle docile was ravaged,

Ravaged, molested, corrupted and left all alone to suffer,

Oh my gentle swan, could you be a sadist’s desired bird?

The Clockmaker; A Book Review

The Clockmaker

Genre – Psychological Thriller

Jungle Series I

Author- Paromita Goswami



Can you change destiny? What if you can?
Ashish, a passionate clockmaker is frustrated with his life – financial insecurity, his ongoing nightmares and his family, wife Lata and son Vicky, are driving him crazy.
Lata is having a tough time in life with her arch-rival, Rashmi. Vicky wants to be a biker than rather join the family legacy of the clockmaker. He also has a crush on Kavya who is more interested in supporting her family than romancing around.
Lately, Ashish starts hallucinating things. The black hooded man, who traumatizes him in the nightmares, warns him of dire consequences if he doesn’t return the timepiece that was given to Ashish by his father at his deathbed. Burdened with despair, Ashish wishes he could change his destiny and end all his miseries. By sheer chance, he discovers the power of the timepiece. Ashish was still figuring out what to do with it when an incident shatters his life completely. Without second thoughts he uses the power of the timepiece to change his destiny. But, can he really change it?
Amid the chaos of the busy by-lanes of the East Delhi unfolds a paranormal, supernatural, Indian drama that will leave you thrilled.
The Jungle Series – Get ready to be assaulted!

The Book Review

Paromita Goswami intends to create an eerie atmosphere in the first book of the Jungle Series. She does it effortlessly. She does not indulge in composing confusing literary jargons, rather she takes the reader straight into the jungle of consciousness, past, present and darkness.

The character build up is really up to the mark, whether it is the marital discord, domestic tussle or extra-marital bliss – Ashish is a steady winner in the section. And then, we have the character in the hood, it scares the shit out of you. Goswami takes her own time to weave the emotional bond(s), the helplessness and the troubled psyche of the characters. No artificial infusion of heroism, simple treatment and thank God, the language is really straightforward.

The prologue is definitely a clear winner in the book. I could literally experience the sweat buds on Babuji’s forehead, while reading it. One of the most interesting stuff(s) apart from creating a paranormal atmosphere, prologue and character build up among others is the narrative technique. The usage the third person narrative with the feel of episodic revealing of the intricate details hits you hard, and it opens up like a blooming hibiscus, beauty in the end.

And yes, the clock is not only an object, it is a character.

The theme is good, the climax is wow. What else do you need ?

Rise up and get the book.

Tip : Read it after dinner, when everyone is asleep.


N.B : TICKTOCK, TICKTOCK….sssh that is the sound of the  clock


The spooky mood

The character build-up

Easy flow of narration, episodic nature

Brilliant thrills


Length, could have been chopped a bit.

Verdict – Have it, Ashish is tensed..Help him…

About the Author

Paromita Goswami is a writer and storyteller by passion and a rebel by choice. She says the world is full of stories and as a writer she loves to pen them down. Her work is not genre specific. From literary fiction to children book to paranormal thriller and women fiction, Paromita Goswami‘s books offer the variety of life to her readers. Besides writing, she is also the founder of a reading club that enhances book reading habit in children. She lives in central India with her family.