Too confidential, and
Have said to one another what
They-well, you understand.
I hope I don’t offend you, sweet,
But are you sure that _you’re_ discreet?
HE:
‘Tis true, sometimes my friends in wine
Their conquests _do_ recall,
But none can truly say that mine
Are known to him at all.
I never, never talk you o’er
In truth, I never get the floor.
Burnt,
Burnt herself
A poor housewife,
Which but
But I could not
Take it
As such,
Such had been
The pain,
Pain of dying.
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Found light
Brighter than many ever see.
She,
Within herself,
Found loveliness,
Through the soul’s own mastery.
And now the world receives
From her dower:
The message of the strength
Of inner power.
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is it any wonder
i hunger to tunnel back
inside desperate
to reconnect the rib and clay
and to be whole again
some need is in me
struggling to roar through my
mouth into a name
this creation is so fierce
i would rather have been born
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Who is she?
You may be normal
Opposite gender to him;
He!
May make you wondered
Who is he?
You may be normal
Opposite gender to her;
Where do they live?
Side by side,
How do they behave?
As collaborators?
How are their relations?
As father-daughter, mother-son
Brother-sister
Beloved-lover, coupler;
When and where do they need each other?
From birth to death everywhere,
They always need help each other
To lead an easy life in the earth here:
From childhood to death they face
Many stages and situations
They need struggle to survive
They see ups and downs of life;
To grow kids
They come in bond
Through relationship, partnership
They start conjugal life
They drink lives’ extracts
Up to die they experience life much.
Copyright © Muzahidul Reza | 06/30/2017
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He
Eats,
Universal
Story can be.
About
RARe Stanza:
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
6 Lines Poem –
Syllables Meter: 1-1-1-1-4-4
Rhyme Scheme: aabbca; ababca; aaaaba.
RARe Stanza refers Right Angle Reza Stanza.
Geometric Theoretical Explanation of ¡®RARe Stanza’
The 1st 4 (1-1-1-1) lines stand on the last 2 (4-4) lines,
At the joining point, line No.4 and 5 there the 90? angle is generated;
The 90? angle is known as Right Angle in Geometry.
© Muzahidul Reza | 25 January, 2019
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Wife,
Son,
Again, sister
And more can be.
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I’ve never seen him – that’s the funny part.
I promised I would wear a rose of red,
Pinned on my coat above my fluttered heart,
So that he’d know me – a precaution wise,
Because I wrote him I was twenty-three,
And Oh such heaps and heaps of silly lies. . .
So when we meet what will he think of me?
It’s funny, but it has its sorry side;
I put an advert. in the evening Press:
‘A lonely maiden fain would be a bride.’
Oh it was shameless of me, I confess.
But I am thirty-nine and in despair,
Wanting a home and children ere too late,
And I forget I’m no more young and fair –
I’ll hide my rose and run…No, no, I’ll wait.
An hour has passed and I am waiting still.
I ought to feel relieved, but I’m so sad.
I would have liked to see him, just to thrill,
And sigh and say: ‘There goes my lovely lad!
My one romance!’ Ah, Life’s malign mishap!
‘Garcon, a cafè creme.’ I’ll stay till nine. . .
The cafè’s empty, just an oldish chap
Who’s sitting at the table next to mine. . .
He
I’m waiting for the girl I mean to wed.
She was to come at eight and now it’s nine.
She’d pin upon her coat a rose of red,
And I would wear a marguerite in mine.
No sign of her I see…It’s true my eyes
Need stronger glasses than the ones I wear,
But Oh I feel my heart would recognize
Her face without the rose – she is so fair.
Ah! what deceivers are we aging men!
What vanity keeps youthful hope aglow!
Poor girl! I sent a photo taken when
I was a student, twenty years ago.
(Hers is so Springlike, Oh so blossom sweet!)
How she will shudder when she sees me now!
I think I’d better hide that marguerite –
How can I age and ugliness avow?
She does not come. It’s after nine o’clock.
What fools we fogeys are! I’ll try to laugh;
(Garcon, you might bring me another bock)
Falling in love, just from a photograph.
Well, that’s the end. I’ll go home and forget,
Then realizing I am over ripe
I’ll throw away this silly cigarette
And philosophically light my pipe.
* * * * *
The waiter brought the coffee and the beer,
And there they sat, so woe-begone a pair,
And seemed to think: ‘Why do we linger here?’
When suddenly they turned, to start and stare.
She spied a marguerite, he glimpsed a rose;
Their eyes were joined and in a flash they knew. . .
The sleepy waiter saw, when time to close,
The sweet romance of those deceiving two,
Whose lips were joined, their hearts, their future too.
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Glides my heart into thy fingers, O my Love!
Where the night-wind, like a lover, leans above
His jasmine-gardens and sirisha-bowers;
And on ripe boughs of many-coloured fruits
Bright parrots cluster like vermilion flowers.
He
Like the perfume in the petals of a rose,
Hides thy heart within my bosom, O my love!
Like a garland, like a jewel, like a dove
That hangs its nest in the asoka-tree.
Lie still, O love, until the morning sows
Her tents of gold on fields of ivory.