PRODIGIOUS GIRL

Silently I’m going
to see the girl who is prodigious,
I alone stay with banned thoughts
I dream the prodigious girl of night.
Softness placed in creepy body.
Suddenly perturbation kicks up.
Just then the amazing moment of life
turned in a fraction of time.
After opening eyes—
I saw her vanishing silently
like dream goes away.
The butterflies fly still
towards new unknown land of dream.

LAST OF SAW YOU

I saw you last sometime around 
I don’t know,
you came on a rainy night.
you came silently, noisless
at the end of horizon direction.
In frozen winter you came
On some evening of firefly
you came, under the light of love story.
when last I saw you
you came at night with firefly
or maybe it was a dreamy twilight. 

IN FELLINGS YOU

Love your turbulence
Love this hard life.
when you struggle, alone;
I feel proud watching, you –

I, love you long dap hairs
love your solemn possessed mind.
when your transparent eyes are presence 
courage gives to me.

On your miscall gives or SMS
I love your heart –
when your tears drops from yours eyes,
unreal dreams in thought 
my dreams are crashes.

I try to make your sorrow mine
still I feel you in my heart,
But you are no more.

THE DREAM OF MY REALITY

The prose of Tagore, or a novel of Bankim,
It is not
My full moon of dreams.
It’s not a killed in encounter stuff.
The dream of my reality.
So Many chrysanthemum flowers,
Never I have seen in sideways of highway.
And of tunnels
The silent reigns in Morag.
He is Omni present.
For far away in land 
things like laughter song
pithy rain, sky clawed not clear is placed.
And also unbearable love,
It is the new moon that was last
The dream of my Reality.

YOU ARE NOT GOING TO COMEBACK

You are not going to comeback
without a sound alone
the gate of this known garden
I open,
in the silent noon
of the Bengali month, Falgun (February-March).

Thinking about loneliness
I lose myself in silent-stopped love.
On the way, countless corpse
countless time gone spent.
In this lost love
like a bird someone says-
“Countless stardust will wash away
with the dew water
sleepless window’s night will end.
Evening market when breaks
someone fears losing a thing.
Even that man touches hand
of many known and unknown person”

Net weaved with dream of down

you are not coming back.
Life misery have not yet passed away,
burn of Amor deflects the dreams from eyes.
Tomorrow may be or the after that this body of mine will go into morgue.
Alone I feel in life! Still will you not come back?

REMIX OF WORLDS

I, don’t know when this
under the piece of a small papers
the remix of world will get stomped.
Mind is diverted! Busy to,
upload a status;
But the is busy then
in some thought of romance.

All these are twisted world
Forget I in my mind, one by one
In reality these are all umbra.

Everything here is somewhat multi-colored
we don’t try to justify the truth
under a bright light.
We learn the lessons of nudity
on a patrician balcony.
On that platform, the sky of intellection
gets covered up with violence and complication,
like a celebrity, rising and going down.

Don’t know when
under the small piece of paper
will be pressed
The world full of remix.

WARM LOVE

Touch of your hand
Suddenly I remember.
Felt life-memories
This is, that warm lip
In which voice of love
Eyes in eyes, palpitating heart,
Deep nights dreamed past
become a memory today, is it?

Memory comes in mind
your wet hairs
drops on my face
little emotional water.

When gave me satisfaction easily
warm-love, warm-body, warm lips,
Again and again attract me.
Every of these are my memorial day!

One second fraction of yours
deep warm love thoughts.
Dreams, past everything is
Memorable today!

YOU ARE NO MORE

YOU IN MEMORY LANE

This life is pending
dipped in tention
The time have not stopped yet
Have not said anything.

Still today I think being seated
somewhere but where you are
Butterfly flying in sky,
colours of holy reminding of you
I realise you in old s.m.s.
or the old records of your voice.
Stillness again and again
made me self-sacrificed.
unrestricted pain of having her,
feeling of feeling her
makes me cry.
Still I have not left dreaming
stone pressed flowers in the witness
of the tears of my vain love.

I dream, still today remembering you.