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I have a garden of roses
One for every person I love
Year after year
More and more begin to die
The petals begin to wilt
And float to the ground
To this day
Only a few remain
I fear that they too
Will die someday
After I quit the medication,
I couldn’t stop smelling
smoke,
And I’d feel electric shocks
coursing through my
brain.
The doctor said it was withdrawal,
but I think you’re still
burning
Somewhere inside of me. And the
rain in my head that’s been
trying
To put you out for so long
has turned into a
storm.
///
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

///
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
///

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.

///
When beauty grows too great to bear
How shall I ease me of its ache,
For beauty more than bitterness
Makes the heart break.

Now while I watch the dreaming sea
With isles like flowers against her breast,
Only one voice in all the world
Could give me rest.
i am not sure of what i am supposed to believe
am i supposed to listen to the sway of the trees
or the buzzing of the bees

i am not sure of what will happen in
two minutes or even three
i am not sure of what will happen to
you and me

can things ever go back to how they used to be
when simplicity overthrew
the torrent storms
of insanity
 Dec 2014 Natasha Trullia
AJ
I don't know
My stomach is in knots tonight
And I need someone to help untie them.
And kiss my forehead
Or something.
Please love me.
I'm not desperate, I'm drunk.
I'm shivvering and very upset and very cute.
Love me.
 Dec 2014 Natasha Trullia
Sombro
As sight is servant to the sun
I am servant to these
Smiths and songmen
The lives bent over a desk

Working as a canvas
Daubing themselves with
Whatever ink they find
Muck or gold make marks

And I am fettered
Achain to their words
I stare into their eyes
But they reflect me

I don't believe it
I Can't Breathe
Suffocating
In a country
That could give
A good *******
About me.
Drowning in a society
That doesn't see the signs.
That doesn't believe
That the darker brother
Has the right to justice.
That simply condones
The mistreatment
Of an entire group of
Human beings.
I tried to walk away.
I tried to surrender.
It didn't  matter
Because now
I really can't breathe.
 Dec 2014 Natasha Trullia
AJ
I'm so scared
I just don't know it yet.
Spin me around
The vertigo is comforting.
Constant movement and changing
Is good sometimes.
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