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Born 1950, from Kolkata, India, studied at Hindu school and St. Xavier’s College, Kolkata.

He is a retired journalist and was editor of “CALCUTTA CANVAS” and “INDUS CHRONICLE”.

He is a bilingual poet. He has contributed to various anthologies published in India and abroad. His poems are translated into Hindi,Punjabi,Assamese,Italian,French,German,Polish,Persian,Arabic,Hebrew,Malay,Mandarin,Romanian, Spanish, Azerbaijani, Russian, Uzbek, Kirghiz,Greek, Swedish, Norwegian,Chinese,Catalan.

“SAVAGE WIND” is his first poetry book, a bilingual edition,translated into Spanish by Mexican poet JosepJuarez. This has a separate edition published by Altaspera Publishing &Literary Agency INC, in Canada and distributed by LULU,IE under separate ISBN. This book is published from Italy also with Italian translation by poet Elisa Mascia, Italy.

“SONG OF PABBLES” is his second book, a bilingual edition, translated into French by Marjorie Meetoofrom Mauritius. Published from Kolkata,India.

Poetry, photography,paintings arehis passions.




Fragrant days of autumn

Chariot of clouds at dusk

Here the clay goddess come

Carries all my songs


The golden touch of her feet

Makes my joy to shine infinite

Birds sing in the morning

And the whispers of the wind

Flutes sound and the laughter


After four days—


Memories swirling into nowhere

Plunged into a sea of silence…




© Asoke Kumar Mitra, 2019

















The moon swallowed the dark

Broken dreams silently hanging

Through the window pane,

A rusted frame of night

Stars twinkle gently

Owls moaning


Dreams are fragile glass

Untold story of joy and pain

Come alive with words you have not spoken

This night beside the window

Eyes speak a thousand words

In silence


What are the colors of rain

Falling like lost dreams…

Forgive, but never to trust again.





© Asoke Kumar mitra,2019








Remembering you wrote letters…

Described the situations, you said

Will back home soon,

Days, week, a fortnight, months gone

It’s going to be ten months,


No letters, no phone calls,

Last time wrote from Paris

Dated May 13,2014


Waiting for you at breakfast table,

Empty chair, half empty glass

How long? This silence…


At the crossroad of sleepless nights

I am listening to my own heart beat

My own song…

With a sound of weeping violins

I am sinking in quicksand




©Asoke Kumar Mitra, 2019












Another day we went to the sea

Seagulls emerging from the clouds

Home bound birds and memories

Inside my heart lost love letters


Sand dunes and seashells

Night washed out in silence

Half-forgotten dreams

Don’t want to wake up


Time a silent stalker

In an empty space on the sea waves

Seashells, mundane thoughts and imaginations

Inside me your existence


Sand dunes, quick sand and seashells

Parched lips

Fire in our hearts…

And we part…


© Asoke Kumar Mitra, 2019









Waiting for a song to sing Together

Song of humanity and creation…

We are butterflies

Between a thousand flowers


At night we run among dreams

Stars and moon both merge

Us in love

Neon signs and billboards

Who cares


Like a potter who gives life to clay

The moon creates a shadow

Evening’s silent approach

To a blank page of our heart


Sea waves, winds and sea shells

Sky and clouds

Talking to each other

Our secret poetry dissolve in perfect silence…


© Asoke Kumar Mitra, 2019







Someday we will go

On a trip across the night

Where white lily blooms

Will sing a song of the cyclone


Two impatient hearts

Two vagabond heads

Folded in our pockets

And the sound of our own voices


We are a full-time dreamer

Ocean clouds only know our dreams

Voices of broken guitar and violin

Dark locks of the night

Today is Saturday, day after tomorrow

On Monday night

We are going for a poetry meet

Wordless poems, what this night needs…


© Asoke Kumar Mitra, 2019






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