PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

There was a café at the end of the road

where the patio trickled onto the sidewalk

and umbrellas opened like snowdrop petals

allowing only splatters of sunlight to decorate the plates

placed in front of posied forks and clinking glasses.

At noon we sat with people sipping rosé

and nibbling the edges of pastries:

you with your cupcake, I with my

tart. Your mouth full of mischief, you spoke

with your hands to clear my head and

there was something like sweetness

on your fingers. Words sifted between your eyes and 

a token of my innocence saw the sun

when icing stuck to your bottom lip. 

I barely noticed the tremor in your fingers

when you raised your glass to toast the afternoon or

the acidic taste of the powder I wiped off your nose with my thumb.

In 1^st Person Point of View:

I, Ridoy Rayhan, love Neela madly like the way Majnun loved Layla. I just cannot translate my inner feelings into words! Perhaps, I will never be able to. It is just impossible. When I first saw her, the moment was magical! Neela came to the veranda to water the little plants there. She was wearing a blue saree; the colorful bangles in her hands were looking like the rainbow. In fact, they were making a soothing clinking sound while she was moving her hands every now and then.

Neela saw me looking at her like a drug addict! I smiled a little but she frowned a little; she also felt shy and went back inside. That was the first time I saw her. I felt like this was the girl that God created for me; my soulmate she was going to be! From the next day onwards, waiting outside Neela’s home to have a glimpse of her became my routine. Like a crazy person, I used to wait on and on to see her even for a second. There were days when I was quite fortunate; some days were not that favorable. One day while Neela was going to the college, I stood before her and said, “I love you,” please accept this red rose; it’s a symbol of my love for you!” She replied, “Sorry, I can’t; I am getting late for the class; leave me alone.” When I insisted several times, Neela took the flower and threw it away near the dustbin.

On the next day, I offered Neela another rose, but she did as usual- took it and threw it away. Fortunately, on the 11th day of offering the red rose, Neela took the flower, looked at me and smiled like Vinci’s Mona Lisa! She did not throw the rose! That was the greatest and the most beautiful moment in my life! I felt an uncontrollable thrill! It felt like the electricity was flowing through all the veins of my body! I looked at the sky spreading my arms and screamed like a lion, “I love you, Neela!” She was feeling shy because the onlookers were curiously looking at us then especially me!

Alas! I could not catch my dream! Now, Neela is another person’s wife now. Her parents did not prefer me as a prospective bridegroom because of my family status. Sometimes, I ask myself, “Is it my fault being born in a poor family?” I have decided not to marry! I will never, neither will I ever try to persuade her to return to me. Yes, I will continue to love Neela from the distance even if it is one-dimensional. Platonic love let it be!

The Scene in Omniscient Point of View:

Ridoy Rayhan loves Neela as Majnun used to love Layla. His feelings, emotions for her are inexpressible. Actually, even if he tries to, he cannot ever do so. Impossible it seems at this moment. Their first meeting, not a meeting really, the first looking at each other happened rather magically! The day seemed romantic; the gentle breeze was blowing all over; the milieu appeared heavenly. Neela’s intention behind coming to the veranda was watering the thirsty plants who were eagerly waiting for the beautiful Neela to come and nourish them as ever. Her blues saree made her look like a Greek Goddess! The bangles that she had in her hands were adding more beauty to her overall persona. They were clinking sweetly like a chime and Ridoy was enjoying the sound.    

Ridoy’s eyes looked bigger than normal as he is extremely captivated by Neela’s matches beauty. She must have considered him to be someone doing drugs! He subconsciously smiled looking at her but she replied by a frowning look. Certainly, Neela’s cheeks turned red because of shyness and she went back to her room. That was the very moment when Ridoy saw her for the first time. A sort of feeling made him think that God created her for him alone. As a schoolboy goes to school every day, similarly, Ridoy started going near Neela’s home on a daily basis. He used to wait to look at her at least once. It was nothing less than madness; he was mad in love! At times, favored him, at times, did not. However, he never lost hope and confidence. He knew it in his heart that she would be his someday! Once when Ridoy saw Neela going to the college, he stopped her and said, “I am in love you,” ‘Would you please accept this red rose?”; It’s not just a rose, It’s my heart that I am giving to you!” She did not look angry but was a bit embarrassed for sure; she replied, “Sorry! I need to go now!” On his child-like insistence, she took the flower and threw it near the dustbin.     

Ridoy did not get disheartened whatsoever. He offered Neela another rose on the following day. She did look so “serious” as the day before- took and threw the flower as she did yesterday. On a certain 11th day, Neela accepted the rose, and smiled exactly like Mona Lisa in Vinci’s famed and eternal painting! She did not repeat the action, which means that she did not throw the rose away! That was the most glorious instance for Ridoy! He was so excited that he felt like he would die of a heart attack! An adrenaline rush was all over his body! Being extremely romantic, he extended his arms and sounded exactly like a lion when he screamed, “Neela, I love you; you’re mine, mine alone!” Neela’s cheeks got red like the carrots. She felt so shy on the street that she covered her face with her hands eventually!  

“What is lotted, cannot be blotted!” At present, Neela is the spouse of someone else. Ridoy was never preferred as a bridegroom for her by her parents. At times, particularly going to the bed at night, Ridoy asks himself, “Is it a crime to be born in an impoverished family?” From then on, he did not involve himself in any sort of affair; he is still unmarried and has decided to remain so. Nevertheless, one thing is certain- no matter what happens in life, Ridoy will continue to love Neela from the core of his heart. He will never approach or disturb her. His love will be one-sided and Platonic in nature just like the lover in Poe’s beautiful poem, “Annabel Lee”!

Everything is more than perfect with Rajeeb’s life. A lucrative job, own apartment, car and so on. An outsider will think that he has everything that brings happiness. However, Rajeeb badly needs someone, a girl he used to be crazily in love with. Her name is Tinni.

All was well. Tinni suspected Rajeeb of being in another clandestine affair with a girl. Every now and then, they used to quarrel with each other. One day, Tinni broke the love-affair. Her last words still resonate in his ears,

- I hate you; I hate you!

Like the falling rain, she was crying in pain while leaving. Now, Rajeeb feels that he has lost a diamond. When he realized his guilt after so many days, he searched for Tinni but it was in vain. He is still single in the hope that he will get her and her love back someday!

Now, all Rajeeb has are the sweetest and bitterest of memories related to Tinni. The most precious thing he has is her photograph where she is smiling being so shy like a newly-wed bride in Bangladesh. Every night he looks at the image, touches it with his fingers, kisses it, keeps it on his bosom, closes his eyes and reminisces about the olden, romantic moments.

One fine day, Rajeeb feels an extreme headache. It is not something new with him. He has been under such pain on a regular interval. Nevertheless, the severity of the headache surpasses that of other days. He takes a short leave and returns home. Rajeeb takes some painkillers and goes to bed. He falls asleep. When he awakes, he finds himself in a hospital. His parents and relatives are also there. All of them are crying like babies. Rajeeb gets puzzled! He asks himself, “Why are all of them crying?” Maybe something happened but he is still alive! They are mourning as if he is going to breathe his last!

Rajeeb will indeed breathe only 24 hours! The doctors have diagnosed his brain and found a tumor. The lamenting parents ask a doctor,

- For god’s sake, please save my son! Please…!

- Please do not worry. We can save him if we can operate now.

Rajeeb can hardly speak. Hearing the doctor’s words, he uses gestures like the movement of his eyes towards his mother to go near him. He whispers,

- Timnii’z pho…to! Tell da daktorz not to ope…rate n…ow!

Though the words are not clear enough, the mother understands what her son is talking about. She feels that Rajeeb wants to see the photo of Tinni before the operation. But, the picture is at home. It will take 25 minutes to get it. She requests the doctor,

- Could you please operate him after some time?

- Impossible! Every second counts! If we delay, your son will surely die!

Rajeeb’s mother insists. She rushes like the stormy wind to get the girl's photo! Mother returns. The son departs! Rajeeb is no more!

While walking back home, I have bought some ripe mangoes [A]. I was crazy about mangoes in my childhood especially the ripe ones. I just could not resist myself from climbing my neighbors' mango trees and stealing the most popular fruit in the world! My friend, Imu, a partner in crime [B]. I am not a child anymore, yet I have that old habit. Once, my father, a policeman by profession, happens to see me on a mango tree while I keep on trying to grab the most ripened ones. He shouts at me like a lion- "Climb down!" I do so like a thunderbolt and run towards home. I try my best to convince my mother to cajole father in order to calm him after he returns. Fortunately, father returns home late due to certain busyness. Even on the next day, he does not yell at me; maybe he has forgotten the incident. [D] Imu tells that there are awesome mangoes nearby. We rush towards the spot. Climbing the tree, I start plucking the mangoes. While climbing higher, I lose control and fall straight down! [C]. The neighbors take me to the doctor. I am slowly getting well [E], 

Amina, a 12-year-old school-going girl, has been sleeping like Kumbhakarna, Ravana’s younger brother in the “Ramayana”! Out of the blue, something explodes and Amina gets up but she cannot move her legs, not even a little! She senses that it is dead of the night. The “caw” and “kraa” of a crow she can hear. Though she cannot figure out what exactly is going on, she is damn sure about one thing- something evil is going to happen! Amina feels like a lioness inside a cage. She asks herself, “Is it a dream?” “Somebody help me,” she vainly screams!

She tries to take help from her memory by thinking about what happened the previous day! Her memory does not help; perhaps, it is playing a filthy trick! Her phone rings in the room but she cannot move her legs to get it. She uses her hands to bend and start crawling on the floor like a wounded snake. Amina gropes in the dark and happens to find an appliance; it is a blender; she remembers blending a carrot the other day. She has no idea what the blender is doing here in the bedroom instead of being in the kitchen! Amina is sweating like hell!

After crawling a little, her hands begin to ache. Now, she remembers that the phone was ringing a few minutes back. Therefore, she tries her best to find it out quickly. Amina searches for it here, there, everywhere by dragging herself undergoing in untranslatable pain! Her throat gets drier and drier. She feels like she is going to die within seconds. At that very moment, someone is so forcefully knocking at the door and shouting in such a way as if he is a tiger!

Now, she tries to reach the door. After much hardship, she finds herself next to the door. Alas! Amina cannot open it since she is unable to stand up. The unknown person breaks the door and gets in. Pointing a gun at her, he screams, “Don’t pretend to be handicapped, bitch!” He orders his cohort, “Bring her aboard now!”

Sous l'ombrage d'un sage sureau

Coule une intrépide rivière

Ecoutant la mélodie d'un oiseau

Gardant captif le feu en sa serre

Envoutant de son chant toute la contrée

Séduisant les colombes avec ses plumes de soleil

Tant et si bien qu'à la fin de la journée

L'éclat de la flamme brilla comme le soleil

Son plumage vivement s'incendia

Et le feu sacré, s'étant vengé de son geôlier

s'éteignit doucement sur un monticule cendré

Ayant pitié, le sureau tendrement

sculpta des cendres un oeuf 

et donne à l'oiseau une seconde vie.

Dramatic tunes play in my mind

as I wait in bed for your replies

Took a trip, tried to listen to

A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships

But boy, I really should take note

that 1975 was never the year

that the internet was born 

then lives got weird

Dramatic tunes swirl in my mind

Nauseating and mesmerizing, all at once

I trace all the pieces I could find

to draw the image that may resemble you

and draft the letters I could think of

but never would I send to you

Dramatic tunes leech on my mind

Trying to design my last demise

The nothingness on their side,

churning violence all coincide

Dramatic tunes play in my mind 

As I wait for your replies 

The darkness would soon arrive

here and hear my last goodbye

The flock of crows are closing in

Floating just three feet above

But then I feel my eyes flinch

As the phone buzzed

Verse 1:

I can sense it:
Our story is not over yet.

You are the one.

You are my life.

You are my dream.

You are my soul.

You are always

On my mind.

Chorus:

As long as you are here with me,

We can truly become “us”.

I realized you cannot find

“The True You” alone.

But, with the one

You love the most.

I love you.

Verse 2:

I’ve taken the long way back to us.

However, I found “us” in each other.

The only thing worth living for

Is the power of our love.

Give it away.

Take it away.

You heal my scars and wounds.

Bridge:

‘Cause tonight, I’ll be at your side.

Our story never ends.

It begins with us,

In finding “us”

In each other.

Our story begins now.

In a car, rolling on a strange deserted highway, the heat absorbed by the skin of the two cousins inside. Only silence and the tires going at 100km/h could be heard, and sometimes the poor insects splashing like a paintball against the car’s front. The driver decided to put Spotify on with a random weird playlist named “I’m a cyborg but that’s ok”.

After a few random unorganized songs, The Globalist by Muse came on. “Oh! Hey, listen to this,” said the driver while increasing the volume “I heard this song the other day, it made me think in a short story that fits well with the song.”

“Sure, hit it.” Said the cousin.

“Alright,” he prepared himself with his shaky right hand “imagine a man struggling in a deserted highway, he looks messed up, like if a gang of people beat him up to the blink of death. Black eye, blood sliding down like sweat on the forehead, he even lost two complete fingernails with dirt as a substitute. His mind is white, he is not sure what to expect next, but suddenly, a strike of motivation hit him. ‘Screw it, I’ll do it’ he whispered to himself.” The intense part of the song began at this exact moment.

“Do what?” his cousin asked.

“Nobody knows, he just decided to do it. He walked in the endless desert, and then he found it. An abandoned cabin in the middle of the desert. He went down the hill and reached the door, he seemed to know the place, and he seemed anxiously angry, collecting weapons that were hidden everywhere in it. Ropes, guns, knives, grenades, a map, water, mustard gas, molotovs and a lot more. Focused and agitated his heart stopped for a second leaving a tight feeling in his chest. He saw a picture laying on the ground, face down, he picked it up and looked at it, he then smirked while having deep thoughts: his childhood friendships, his family hanging out at the local hamburgers store, hanging out with his girlfriend, the day he got married, the day he lost a thousand dollars in the casino, the day he got that thousand bucks back, the year he was on drugs, everything that had impacted his life was flashing on his eyes—‘bang!’ he shoot a bullet on the head of a guy.” The epic-ness of the song turned off.

“Wait, what? He was remembering positive things of his life and suddenly all that was cut by a gunshot? Who did he kill?” The music resumed with a resolution feeling on the air.

“I don’t know, nobody does. But just imagine it, be in his shoes.”

After that, silence was again prevailing, until the driver stopped the car in the middle of nowhere. “Well, this is your stop. I guess, I will see you soon?” said the driver, while looking away. His cousin opened his door, got out of the car, turned back to close the door. “Stop chasing yourself for what you did” he said. The driver looked down, nodded and didn’t said another word. He drove ahead, and he took a glimpse on the front mirror to see the reflection of nothing but an empty road and an endless desert.