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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
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
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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
///
@ 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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