A street bleeds when it feels stones
It bleeds more when her rider bleeds more
The abundance of sticks and bullets
Yet the distinct sound of protesting ballads
Rider even in the plain street starts to ridge
She knows he can feel her with soared feet
But separation enriches meeting, with a romantic greet
Oppressors gather to harness their necks
Linearity is for the oppressed with boring backs
Parabola is a need to break the leash
Even when the dictating Satan brings the fear to unleash
‘Clock ticks, it’s four, let him bleed’, voices echo
Dictator leaves as his vocal cords stops the mellow
The rider smiles when he sees a stone coming
He says, “They don’t even know that a part of you will initiate the bleeding”
Street looks like a worried mother, and tries to engulf him
She fails even when she engulfed millions
Drops of blood reaches her dry tongue
Waves of joyous scream reaches her ears when oppression succeeded
While she started the process of engulfing her love
Someone from nowhere took him to a place
Where he was placed to feed the earthworms
The circle started again, where they met again
Involuntarily the same process started yet again
But each time he was knocked down, his protest howled louder
In his howl resided the love which she deserved.


Kabir Deb was born in Haflong and completed his schooling from Kendriya Vidyalaya, Karimganj. After that completed his Graduation and Masters from Assam University, Assam. Poetry has been his passion and a hobby from childhood.
He looks forward to change the society with the power of poetry. When the society is facing with many political and social conflicts he wants to show that poetry can destroy even the most destructive force in the society as poetry knows how to create.
His work has been published in ‘​To be my Valentine​’ edition of ​Hall of Poets.

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