There is a forest called Truth around the corner. I go in search for dialogue. So many perspectives there are to offer. One comes back more alive in their concept of God.
I feel a lightness in the falling leaves, stirs within me a freedom and acceptance of dying. Many creatures shuffle amongst the brush, skyward eyes enjoy the critters busy climbing. Up the Tree trunk towers, along the arm~like branches, up and down collecting food in preparation for the season called Winter. So many intricate sounds joined together of varied pitch, tone and timber make for lively conversation. Philosophies smooth ******* mates for various creations of Thought to incubate my ever expanding Understanding, the flowered fruit of Reason.

Those endorphic nights,
wrapped like snakes,
Shared blood in one soul,
we made our promise, carved it in stone,
now it just cuts me down to the bone.

Played our end game, created the path,
‘mongst the spirits, grasping rain,
midnight tears so cold and alone,
It will always cut me down to the bone.


© H V Swan

~~
In touch of you,
one day, thousands of dreams grew on me
after that you left me in halfway
then little by little I have almost forgotten my dreams
forgotten that dreamy highway where there we walked together

Today I'm walking alone,
so alone,
towards an unknown way,
where there I hear my wounded dreams
and my love calling me,
calling me as if they are in a trap
As if they are in a cage
where there I see a narrow way,
I never go through such a way,
very congested,
little bit hazy,
too shadow,
dark,
and a few footsteps that I have seen
where there my dreams calling,
my lost love calling,
calling too loudly

Again I feel my heart has overflowed
floating over my lost dreams,
flooding over my lost love

I'm walking through that narrow way
little by little that sound has seemed strong,
little by little I have heard her voice to grow long
may be I am so close to my love,
so close to my dreams
my right hand moving,
moving through the dark
I try to break the shadow,
try to catch my dreams
I have become tired,
Try to take a little breath
and finally,
I break the shadow,
shatter the dark
and finding her within the dark
seeking my dreams within the shadow
but I can't see anything,

Yet the clock moving on--
still I'm uttering her name
and dreaming within my thousands of daydreams
where I had left one long spring--
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen


---------------------------------
হাজারো স্বপ্ন ও একটি ভালবাসা
---------------------------------
তোমার স্পর্শে
একদিন যখন হাজারো স্বপ্ন
বুদবুদ করতো--  
তারপর মাঝ রাস্তায় রেখে
চলে গেলে তুমি--
আস্তে আস্তে
ভুলে যেতে থাকলাম সপ্ন গুলোকে,
ভুলে যেতে থাকলাম সেই স্বপ্নের রাজপথ
যে পথে হাটতাম আমরা -

আজ আমি একা
বড় একা-
এক অচেনা রাস্তায় হাটি,
যেখানে শুনতে পাই,
আমার আহত সপ্নেরা,
আমার হারানো ভালবাসা,
আমায় ডাকে-
শুনে যেন মনে হয়
তারা বড় অসহায়,  
মনে হই তারা বন্দী,
সেখানে একটা সরু রাস্তা দেখতে পাই
এমন রাস্তায় আগে কখনো যাই নাই
খুবিই দমবন্ধ করা-
খুবিই দুর্ভেদ্য-
ঘন ছায়া,
অন্ধকার,
ঔইখানে কিছু পদচিন্হ দেখি
সেখানে স্বপ্নরা ডাকে,
হারানো ভালবাসা ডাকে,
উচু স্বরে ডাকে-

আবার হৃদয় প্লাবিত হয়
যা ভাসছে হারানো সপ্নের উপর
প্লাবিত হচ্চে হারানো ভালোবাসের উপর

আমি সেই সংকীর্ণ রাস্তা দিয়া হাটি
আস্তে আস্তে শব্দগুলো স্পষ্ট হয়
আস্তে আস্তে  তার সুর সুনতে পাই
হইত আমি ভালবাসার খুবই কাছে
হইত সপ্নের খুবই কাছে
ডান হাত সরছে
চলছে আধারের মধ্যে দিয়ে
চেষ্টা করি ওই ছায়াকে দূর করতে
চেষ্টা করি স্বপ্নকে ধরতে
দারুন ক্লান্ত,
চেষ্টা করি একটু শ্বাস নিতে
এবং শেষে,
মুছে ফেলি ওই ছায়া
বন্ধ করি ওই আধার
খুজি ওই আধারে ভালোবাসা
খুজি সপ্নকে  ওই ছায়াতে
কিন্তু পাইনা খুঁজে কিছুই-

এখনো ঘড়ির কাটা ঘুরে
প্রতিনিয়ত তার নাম উচার্রণ করি  
সপ্নদেখি শত সহস্র দিবাস্বপ্নের মাঝে  
যেখানে আমি ফেলে এসেছি দীর্ঘ এক বসন্ত--
~~
@মুসফিক উস সালেহীন

Beholden.
I am for a tainted past.
Years of scars.
Inwardly vast.
Recollected memories so brawn.
In my dreams.
They will never be gone.
At a time..
Feeling worthless...
Knowing now.
A test..
A test of hidden purpose.
Purpose that has given me preparation.
Inspiration.
Determination.
Motivation for a delightful future is now my affixation.
I am..
Beholden.

Bach's "little fugue"
            played while figure eights
whistled in my head,
               along with mathematics
to an un-equilibrium point
           where self-confidence
meets self-doubt.

So, in
illusions created by the exact same demons
that saw the bottom from the top
and the   pope as part of a conspiracy,
I created a theory, and ended in a padded room.

I painted spots on walls not assimilating
anyone others works,
became my own victim,
committed to rationality
while acting eccentrically.

Visions came to me, I sought refuge in them,
things I saw the real world calls bug-brained.

There I envisioned the cosmos as a limit imposed
on one's relation to self. I saw the dynamics of  human conflict
as interludes of forced sanity.

I went as quick as I came.

forced into what I don't want to do
I enjoyed the chorus arranged in my head.
Like a game between people I don't understand.

I sneak into Princeton and proved the existence of God. in red sneakers unaware my theory was economic realism.

Then I rejected voices.

And won the Nobel Prize.

Left alone with my chardonnay and nicotine,
He walks out the door with a smile on his face and a pep in his step
And I slide down into the cushions and swish the sweet nectar over my tongue and teeth.
He’ll be back, my cigarette is almost to the filter and I flick the stick at the eye sore on my bookcase.
Flitting around town he’s getting his fill on Jack and Jim, making twilight friends out of strangers.
I listen to the floors creak and the couple below me start to scream at each other.
Early summer’s heat is taking its toll. Time will pass as it always does.
I light another cigarette and the hours drone on. A knock on the door snaps me out of my melancholy.
Familiar pools of green are looking at me from the door way. He wasn't gone long.
Dark patterns have formed on his shirt and he wears a crown of sweat.
He handed me a bottle and the chill sent lightning through my fingertips.
The quarrelers below have exchanged their harsh words for lustful moans and I pour two glasses.
Are you in trouble?
What makes you think that? He sips his ***** and holds his hand out to me. I give him mine and his lips rest softly on my knuckles.
You're never home this early. He looks hurt, but flashes me that winning smile and takes me in his arms.
Our body heat could scorch this earth.
I look over to my full glass and sigh.
Another glass wasted..

Sometimes,
I can't believe I am alive

Other times,
I wonder why I am

Most of the time,
I forget

We all wonder in the dark
Trying to see the good
Trying to feel warmth

A small red ember falls to the ground
It glows and it gives of warmth
This is how his revolution started
A small speck in the dark

We fed the ember with praise
And likes that made it grow
People gathered as a fire became

People like his light and his warmth
He grew into a bonfire
Though not low on fuel and praise

Our fire has started to wane
Its not quite as bright
Or as warm
But it still changes our hearts

Andy a poet on here is really sick. Though he still manages to change our lives everyday. He's stronger than anything you'll ever encounter. Andy if you're reading this is means you need to kick cancer's **** because we're here to catch you and revive you so you can win. That's what I want for Christmas. For Andy to survive. When he does I will be first in line to say "Andy you've changed my life and I can't ask for a better savior." ---Lukas---