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"moni" poems
Let's do it together, If  anything happens whatever, If there is thousands of millions problems, Let's solve it better. No matter who they are, Let's show them who we are, Keep working and  become rich, One day everything will come out each. Now life goes on overall breach, Don't loose hope, Nature will teach, Let's hurry ,hold time and effort, Deleting old memories  will be last resort. Dedicated : best decision maker(#Dr. Porosh Moni) Brother of mine ❤️❤️❤️ #writer: Iftekhar Talukdar Date : 12 July 2018 Time : 9 pm
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Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 11:44 AM UTC
Together
~for all of us, we wee musicians of language~ and Moni Nichter =========== neither linguist or musicologist. not scholar, not student, these are not my attributes, characteristics or skills, not a confess, just a blessing that wasn't mine to receive perhaps, if in my meager possess, there were a skill, overlapping yours, intermingling, *(do you hear the music in that word, the ding-a-lingo-ing of "intermingling"?)* could be, maybe, the heated flush one feels, when cogently-new-knowing a patterns of recognition evolving from the daily oceans of sounds, sound waves, waves upon waves upon waves touch~clashing, that traverse, transverse, our collective tissues connective, upon crossbeams that support our consensual commonality of senses, in whatever language and culture we primately, or even privately, inhabit, this overlapping, I love, I cherish, I take, to this music with/of lovely words *(do you hear the waves in my brain, the words I know, washing ashore, leaving the wet sand, that's are the building blocks that we all own?)* new words washed up yesterday, "new scales of language" language, the great divisor, surely, many of us have experienced the helplessness of infancy, when we travel to another country where we are helplessly stranded, shocked by our inabilities, when senses are blocked by the scales of language that our brain cannot iterate, not even once… a new music, a new scale I pulse with excited fear, new music to learn, how came we to be so blessedly challenged? nml. 10/15/25 a progression
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Oct 15, 2025
Oct 15, 2025 at 10:23 PM UTC
The Scales (of language)
~for all of us, we wee musicians of language~ and Moni Nichter =========== neither linguist or musicologist. not scholar, not student, these are not my attributes, characteristics or skills, not a confess, just a blessing that wasn't mine to receive perhaps, if in my meager possess, there were a skill, overlapping yours, intermingling, *(do you hear the music in that word, the ding-a-lingo-ing of "intermingling"?)* could be, maybe, the heated flush one feels, when cogently-new-knowing a patterns of recognition evolving from the daily oceans of sounds, sound waves, waves upon waves upon waves touch~clashing, that traverse, transverse, our collective tissues connective, upon crossbeams that support our consensual commonality of senses, in whatever language and culture we primately, or even privately, inhabit, this overlapping, I love, I cherish, I take, to this music with/of lovely words *(do you hear the waves in my brain, the words I know, washing ashore, leaving the wet sand, that's are the building blocks that we all own?)* new words washed up yesterday, "new scales of language" language, the great divisor, surely, many of us have experienced the helplessness of infancy, when we travel to another country where we are helplessly stranded, shocked by our inabilities, when senses are blocked by the scales of language that our brain cannot iterate, not even once… a new music, a new scale I pulse with excited fear, new music to learn, how came we to be so blessedly challenged? nml. 10/15/25 a progression
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48
A flicker conveys more than words. Your light continues to keep me alive. Despite the struggles, the scattered shards from your lamp remain close to my still beating heart. Always there to watch over me, to connect with me whenever I was alone, lost, sad, or needed someone to share my sorrows. Your spirit resides in the lamp once kept by your bedside table when you were alive with a pained but joyful gasp for air and life. 'Dolly' My special name from You. Forever. My everlasting anchor to safeguard the light and love inside you gave. Moni.
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Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 7:36 PM UTC
Moni's Lamp