With Myself

With Myself
"কত কি করার আছে বাকি "

Friday, December 23, 2011

Just Another Christmas

Lost wrist watch,
Blue evening;
Few bucks in pocket,
Guilty  feeling.
-It was a Christmas.

Left the street,
Own City's joy;
Last sip of whisky,
Time zones destroy.
-It was a Christmas.

Colorful candles,lit in thousands of wombs,
They were not Gods, came out of tombs;
Fold your branches in The Tree of Life,
A Separation was asked to open the matter twice.
-It is another Christmas.

Pastels of moments drew grey lines in your faith,
All the poems are obliged for a new poetic death;
Smell of Plum Cakes, but your lips were dry,
Color of cherry stolen, butterflies deny;
-Just another Christmas.

Cross checked torn pages, all pain is defined;
Camaraderie of emptiness,every second classified;
Waiting for the letter and queue of ants to learn,
Still I have few bucks, few coffee beans to return;
-Come back, It's Christmas.

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