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our mind can feel everything
if we can feel the beauty of roses once
it can make some meaningful words,
even can create a few metaphors of a poem

we write all through our life
it can be grown as words of war
even can be born as a piece of peace
or can be grown both,
war and peace

it can be made a pain or gain
or it can be seemed as a stream,
that can be bought a grain of sand
Even it can earn both,
the pain and the gain

life can make a song
it can be a song of joy
sometimes it may be a coy
even it can make a rhythmic tone
that can't always be a romantic tune
as the river is not always plays a full of chimes

life can be found love
or can be gathered loss
or it can be earned both love or loss
as the poem " Annabel Lee"
that gifts us a pang of pain

life can be moved long like a novel
as Tolstoy's war and peace
even life can be too short, tragic
as the life of a poet,
like Sukanta, Keats and Poe

life looks like a novel
it's growing as well
with both lost and found
of so many stir of dreams

our mind is an endless paper
feelings are as ink
times are as the pen
everybody is the novelist
begins writing since he's born
and finishes before his death
though someone exceeds beyond the death

wise men told
life is a learning
life is a continuous earning of wisdom
that can be repair our kingdom

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@ Musfiq us shaleheen
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Tribute to the three greatest poets Sukanta, Keats and Poe.

Sukanta Bhattacharya (Bengali: সুকান্ত ভট্টাচার্য) (15 August 1926 – 13 May 1947) was a Bengali poet and playwright.

John Keats (/ˈkiːts/; 31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821) was an English Romantic poet.

Edgar Allan Poe (/poʊ/; born Edgar Poe; January 19, 1809 – October 7, 1849) was an American author, poet, editor, and literary critic, considered part of the American Romantic Movement. Best known for his tales of mystery and the macabre.

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well well well

After the clock is gone

And I wander
Wander

Here in the ghetto rain

•     •

She is here

( mystic mother ! )

She called and I came



The sound of the bouncing bed

The moan of angry lovers

The gunfire splits the peace

••

Where are you
My lovely daughter ?

///

Oh

My eye is growing stronger but my spirit weak

But I shall remain

In this ugly evening

Right where I belong

In the only place Man needs to be

///

The clock no longer contains

My soul and heart

//

I am free

I'll know why in a little while
She says
I'm insecure
I'm just obscure
Well thats pays
When you're in a world so pure

She says
She's all alone
She's not shown
Me where it fades
I'll watch my tone

I say
You're just a girl
Smells like Marlboro
I'll meet you in May
So you can see the world
Without me

Before you leave
I have to say
I just want you to stay
I want you to be relieved
When I say you can stay
With me

What do you say?
What will you say?
Will I just stay and wait?
Meet my fate.
You were too late.
Words that just ended up in stanzas. Kinda.  Just words not about anyone in particular
Yesterday
you had all of my heart
today
you have broken that sweet heart

I have no rhythm
nothing
to keep me standing straight

You
stupid fool
hold out your heart
begging me to break it
to make it stop

And I say
"No - someone else can do that for me"
Every time I walk into the line I can only hope to run into you like I've  done before.
Your smile brightens up my day and
In your conversation I could forever stay.
Will you be my Starbucks lover?
We could grab some coffee and lattes,
talk about our lives and mistakes.

Cause I want to be the peppermint to your mocha, the pumpkin spice to your latte, the caramel to your macchiato.
We could compliment each other.
I just want your sweet company and I'll wait in line patiently.
Written about a cutie I like to bump into at Starbucks.
You didn't notice the girl gazing at you
like desert stars do
when you lay with ancient light in your eyes.
She was toying with her hair
and you missed it.
He sprang into thought as much

                           As was in his capacity for such.

He settled there supposing naught
                  
      In instances that amount to squat.


Hunger pangs now bang the drum

               Of higher ambitions left upon

A shelf within his lonely room
              
       His unfinished works began to loom
-For at length he knew his Doom.
A work in progress
Never dissapear from my heart.

These bonds will never sever.
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