A Cold Goodbye

A Cold Goodbye

Bid me a cold goodbye for I’m leaving you;
when the night succumbs to a morning sun
tomorrow, I shall leave my world for good
and despite the desire, will not return!

I’m bound for a train that I hope would take
me to the place where I have always longed
to be ever since I could feel my heart,
though where it really is I do not know!

I bid you please do not shed a teardrop
for an empty chair or an empty bed
nor either pine for my wasted blood or limbs,
rather, if you may, cry for that place in my dreams!

Unless you too have arrived where I hope to be,
how do I grow one with you and you become me?

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Another World

Another World

Come, make love to my soul, I have
sent my body on an errand
to another world, millions of
light years away. A world where you
cannot tell the night from the day,
for a thousand suns and moons too
shine upon the sky, round the clock,
unlike the world my soul is left to rot!

Here blindness can see more than sight
and words can mend your actions right,
unlike the distant world, where none
sees more or less beneath so many suns
and one must prove their words with deeds,
unlike the world my soul is left to writhe!

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360 Different Ways (At Least)

360 Different Ways (At Least)

Have we seen, how the same thing looks
different from different spots?
So there are at least three sixty
different ways to look at life,
if once we have circled it around!

Now, a word of caution my friend –
each of us has a different
spot to stand in our lives, so
let us never think that our eyes
have seen the complete picture yet!

Nor should we ever contemplate,
what we found is the sole meaning of life,
unless we have at least for once
circled it around without closing our eyes!

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Overwhelmed!

Overwhelmed!

The night began as nights do, with darkness
being spread like a patient, anesthetized
across the mild crimson sky of a dusk,
while sadness loomed like his worried folks and kin.

Perhaps the rain that fell soon afterward
meant that the surgery had gone astray!
Nevertheless, people in numbers along
with the diurnals, unaware of the loss,
were returning home after their day’s work,
as the nocturnals began waking up.

In a while the first set was dead asleep
and the latter, occupied too far away.
So, silence, finally had the upper hand –
leaving both myself and the night, overwhelmed!

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Who Am I? (2)

A poem I wrote 3 years ago …. Still it is true but who knows for how long!!!

Poems

Dedicated to M Z Hossain Palash (Kaka) And Shahin
——

I know I’m no poet or a noteworthy bard,
I just need to write down these haunting words
to make them go away, for until I do it
I cannot rest from a raw and blunt agony.
I know I’m neither suffering from insomnia
I just need to stay up alone at nights
for not a single neuron in my weary nerves
would turn away for their love of the silence then.
Once the noise of life arrives at dawn, to sleep
I can close my eyes and shut the remaining senses down.
I know I’m no rebel nor an utopian great,
an outcast may be but hardly a threat.
I cannot take most of the mundane things for granted
but I can neither ask anyone to be myself.
I know I’m no Socrates the great Athenian,
though these gadfly…

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