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Monobina Nath Apr 2021
What you feel, what you say, what you do,
It doesn't matter and it does matter
When you've fame and stardom as your ***** friend.
People will only remember those who remember themselves.
Your talent, your wisdom, your hard work
Are all going to waste, if you don't flourish them.
Millions has gone, billions came.
Humans are the smartphones, a new model replaced the oldest one.
The face that liked today, will hate tomorrow
In whatsapp, facebook, twitter.
The parties, games and the coffee houses,
The precious days so-called "still eighteen" you lose.
Yay! Give them farewell!
And celebrate the ownership of a new house,
Where you're renting and raising two fish from your own account.
This poem is a message to all the adolescent students, who are distant from the bitter realities of life, enjoying their social media (an imaginary world) and dreamed for their prosperous future. The title itself is juxtaposed, the word 'Still' suggest motionless and 'Eighteen' is a period where multiple transformation occurs, physically as well as mentally. Fish is a metaphor of intelligence and profound awareness . In Latin Christian symbology,  the fish is related to Christ.
Monobina Nath Jan 2021
I want to live with you
Forever, after the door of the hell rang.
Even for one second,
I want to remember when I last slept on your lap for an hour and hours.
You kept your soft fingers on my eyelids when the cruel sunray dropping through the tails of a tree.
I want those memories back,
Holding hands along a see- saw path.
Smiling secretly while you want to say I was looking pretty,
And you brought a love stone.
Every dawn, every dusk
As a token of love, looking at the mirror,
Shimmered in gloom,
While you left me alone.
Your love has entered in my nerves spread like a crystal virus.
No treatment, no vaccine.
Only to suffer and to wait.
I can feel you in my heart there you are living
In the love stone.
Monobina Nath Dec 2020
A little star alone in the sky,
Shining like a boon light,
She ask to Mum, who's that one?
Shining like a newborn.

In a never ending road,
He sang his noiseless ode,
Crawling in the blue ink,
Dreamcatcher of seven being.

The sweet- scented dream,
Reached his supreme.
She missed a lot!
Lost him at the foremost top.

Time is over!
Had she fallen in love with a rover?

— The End —