Perhaps Love

By Patrick Basu

Perhaps Love is a compendium of romantic poems composed by the author over many decades, intimately reflective of a serene storgic dying entity of true self sacrificing love. It is written beautifully with a style so sublime, such that the interpretation is left open to the reader, depending on their individual context and frame of mind, which could range from lovers to best of friends.

The style is rich and varies from sonnets to horatic and Pindaric odes dedicated to the lover and his beloved. Perhaps Love is an enjoyable read for anyone at any level. People with a passion for literary art can appreciate its full depth.

The author is truly an enigmatic individual to many of us who intimately know him. He has a depth that is unfathomable to many and I consider myself truly privileged to know him as my father figure both personally and professionally.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: May 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490732985

Patrick Basu

I was touched by T. S. Elliot in my school days, and I was profoundly impressed by William Somerset Maugham, the British writer known for pungent social idiosyncrasies and a disenchanted life. Later, in college, I was inspired by poet, singer, and musician Paul Simon. This literary flare transcribed into a more tangible artistic landscape on films. Truly, I was mentored by Satyajit Ray, David Lean, and François Truffaut. It seemed just a capricious dream that came alive in the mode of morbid anatomy of medicine. I was fortunate to peel off the deeper fascia and palpate the sublime passion in the art of medicine with an uncompromising devotion to imbibe the true elixir that heals life and touches millions of souls. The literary acumen came in handy to express and depict the mundane facts and dry statistics in scientific journals. I Embraced liver into life and persuaded a sanative intimacy to cure liver disease and transplantation . My smoldering desire for poetry and cinema was rekindled and came alive in screenplays only after a few decades of my life been drowned in medicine. I sculpted the lost dream into a few film screenwrites with a nascent flicker of poignant passion for poetry. I dedicate the book as a prelude to my widowed mother, who was the primordial driving force in my life in making me a physician, and to my wife, who has submitted an infinite tolerance to forgiving my daily insanities. Patrick Basu, MD

Book preview

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1. True Friends

Sat on the church bench like bookends,

Time blown over their past,

Fondled the memories at last,

Stood in the Sunday choir,

Felt the loss with sublime fear,

Breaking the distance between old friends.

The old friends

Sat on the park bench like bookends,

Drenched in dewdrop in empty lane,

looking at each other without shame,

Silently sharing their Precious pain—

The good old friends.

True friends

Sat in the theater like bookends,

Measured their smile in secret pain

In the cemetery of dead dreams,

Untouched passion in unblemished screen,

Forbidden friendship in secret whims

Of those two friends.

True friends

Sat at the bus stop like bookends,

A sudden smile they never exchanged,

Scribbling on the graffiti walls in vain,

Sharing the taboos with strange fear,

Craving those priceless tears

Between the two friends.

True lost friends

Sat on the sands like bookends,

Restless ripples of hostile waves,

Caressing the toes of lonely friends,

Troubled breeze whispered in ears,

Touched the feelings that never dare,

Sharing the glances with great care,

Mumbling the loveless war to share,

Like all true friends.

True friends

Sat in the corner like bookends,

Frosting their fingers in cruel rain,

Gently touching their wrinkled hands,

The numbing warmth with cherished pain.

Two lost friends

Sat on the bar stool like bookends.

Drunken dreams swell and rise,

Leftover promises in futile cries,

Mellow maddens to comprehend,

In those true friends.

True lost friends

Sat on the banks like bookends,

Touched the feelings that never end,

Sharing the glances with great care,

Mumbling the loveless war without fear,

Like true lost friends.

The great friends

Sat on the pavement like bookends,

Gazing through rain-drenched windowpanes,

Silently wiping the gentle tears,

Stumbling over the social fears,

Wishing just the future to share,

Unconditioned rights to love and care

Till death threatens to dare,

Strange hope at last to be there

For the good old friends.

Inspired by Paul Simon, and composed by Patrick Basu

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2. Escape

Let’s escape from life

Without any reason, or rhyme

With simple tunes in no times,

One life to love and one to live,

Perhaps forever, never to believe.

Let’s run away with romance,

Far from the rigid wall of reality,

Passion and pain mixed with fragrance,

Smuggled dreams in perfect creativity.

Let’s escape with words,

Without the sounds of silence,

Sublime solitude in sullen dusk,

Speechless mumbles in empty mask,

Voiceless words of violence.

Let’s escape with dreams,

Beyond the space of jealous sky,

Where the desire plunged in