PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

জানি না হঠাৎ কি হয় তোমার?

কখনও ঘণ্টার পর ঘণ্টা মোবাইল বন্ধ থাকে,

কখনও দেখেও করো না দেখার ভান!

কখনও বিষাদ ষ্টিকারের মত লেগে থাকে মুখে!

তখন আমারও খুব মন খারাপ হয়,

যেহেতু তুমি বোবার মত চুপ হয়ে থাকো,

মনে হয়- আমার কারণে তোমার মন খারাপ নয় তো?

হৃদয় আমার তুষের আগুনের মত জ্বলে, তুমি বুঝবে নাকো!

পরদিন হয়তো স্বতঃস্ফূর্ত হাস্যজ্জল তোমাকেই পাই ফিরে,

কিন্তু কেন ছিলে বিষণ্ণ, মেলে না উত্তর সহস্র প্রশ্নের বাণ ছুঁড়ে!

Word Whimpers, scribbled down in chaotic disarray,

Waiting, hoping others will attempt a read...

Patients enough to disentangle their inception.

A thought process, penned from a tortured soul,

Discarding any exersion of a bridged simplicity.

Fear, it will define them as, "no amplitude, nothing special..."

They leave you, confused to discern it's intended significance.

  by Barry Anderson

From nightmare to nightmare ,

Off with your tweed and on with my silk,

The colourful carriage rears over the hill,

The Sinister Sideshow has come back to town,

Do you hear that unmistakable sound?

The clunking and banging of Clockstop's things,

Books and such, yes, and an army of strings. 

Strings, you say? Yes! His puppet display!

 Never been seen, always hidden away,

We know that they're locked in carriage number three,

If he sees you, I'll say it was nothing to do with me!

But enough of that now, On With The Show!

Starting off with a bow so unnaturally low, 

The leader's a dwarf, so we all know his face,

Then his ladies are adorned with silk, string and lace,

Blues, greens and reds dazzle drinkers and wives,

Diamonds glimmer lights into transfixed eyes,

There are songs of old friendships and songs of old lovers,

But the men see not stories, just girls in bright colours. 

'That's rather sinister...' Hmm? Yes, it is...

But old Clockstop knows where all these men live.

That is the trick of Doctor Clockstop's routine, 

You can leave if you manage to keep your hands clean!

Those who don't often boo at the Final Act,

As the puppet show dancers are emotionless and flat. 

But do not be fooled, for the puppets aren't wood.

I might have suggested you run, if I could...

Doctor Clockstop will follow with puppets in hand,

You can plead, but don't expect him to understand:

Men who grope women and make crude remarks,

Can expect to be treated with the same disregard.

"You were leering, and that reflects little respect..."

Now you're dead, with a puppet string tied round your neck.

There's a man standing

outside my window

On his back,

he wears a sheathed sword

He paces back and forth

in the parking lot

Talking to himself

as he pulls out his blade

This town is strange

Is this man deranged?

He doesn't seem sane

As he stands in the rain

If you ask me what I see, I could not give you an answer, for it appears figureless;

If you ask me what I hear, I could not give you an answer, for it does not make a sound;

If you ask me what I feel, I could not give you an answer, for it only brings emptiness; 

If you ask me what "it" is, I could not give you an answer, for it has many names.

my churning madness, 

a maelstrom of emotions,

twisting in charcoal and ink,

evening turns to twilight,

and I'm still creating,

as the rest of the world sleeps,

I can recall the moment,

that I became so strange,

I saw a shattered pane of colored glass,

spread across a black asphalt street,

everyone just walked past,

I stood in silent wonder,

staring at the scene,

how could no one else notice,

how beautiful shattered glass could be...

The Language of this man waiting,squatting and muttering
I could at all not in any way understand it
When He muffled and quacked like frog
I thought initially that I could decode or infer
But so shame that I could not even deicticalize its typology
Not at all that He dressed like onion
But I think there's something in his pragmatics illusion
So important that linguists could easily ascertain
But his soliloquising,solitary chants and aside decreolized the thought of his heart
although the abandonment of passers~by and ignoring of market people
Give me a concern that the standing man is living with Jinns
Who seemed to be his master and director
The dirty thing which took his mouth to speak
Did not truce but decree with military commandment
He dare not reject its shameful offer,else he will punish for life
When he first uttered word,i could not believe a strange action occured
As I forced to mumble and buzz like bees
Which I don't know he was talking to air
For he could never sever his intimacy with its
Then i know his language could not match mine

It’s strange that I don’t know who you are, I feel as if I did once, but now
you’re just
another
pretty
face in
a grey
world.
Did I know
you? Who
are you?
I think I
know you
from some
place.

Oh, yes. A smile, a face, a kiss. There you are. Sorry, I don’t know you
anymore. See, you left me. I'm no longer am yours. I don’t know you,
because you left.                                                          Now you’re just
somebody that I                                                              used to know.
I loved you once, but you threw my love away. I guess I wasn’t good
enough for you; did you ever love me? I don’t know, I just don’t know.

                                                                            And yet, I still remember
                                                               you as you once were.
                                     You were so beautiful, charming,
                 sweet, lovely. My eye’s never left yours.
There was no-one else in my world but you.
                Everything I did was for you, and I know I had
                                      my flaws. You were my sun by day,
                                                                 my stars by night. You
                                                                          were everything to me.

Now, I still hurt. I still remember the pain. I still feel the blow, the heartache,
the suffering.                               But do you                                know what?
I still love                                    you I forgive                          you. I want you
back in my                                  arms. I need                          you. I’ll take you
back; always.                              And I know                                you’re sorry,
but let the                                  past die. All                             I know is that

you love me                                now, and I                                love you too.

Welcome back,                          I remember                                   you now;

I love you.

I always
have.