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Category Archives: Poetry
কবিতা
জীবন হচ্ছে প্রাণ
আমার দুখ্হ তুমি চিনতে পারছ না
আমার চকের জল অনেক পরেছে
যায় দিন আমার বর এসেছে সে দিন আমার জীবন আরামব হইছে
Suneel
The mark of a good man
Is someone who can gently challenge
Without pushing
And laughing with me at the same time
It’s tough for me to give up my convictions
The beliefs that have surrounded me, protected me
Isolated me
You broke through that
Thank you Suneel
GPS my way through life
Just went to Edison, NJ
Using a Zipcar
And a new GPS
First time I didn’t make a mistake
Taking I-78W instead of east
Wish I had a GPS for navigating my way
Through life.
unlimited
you will meet many people in your life that will tell you
can’t, won’t, never
your mother
your father
your sister
your brother
your friend
your ex-
your lover
your enemies
but never yourself
they will beat you into submission
to convince you that you have limitations
when they themselves are limited
are not able, cannot and will not
are courageless, inspirationless and lack strength
tell yourself everyday
i can, i will, i will conquer
i will, i can, i will conquer
i am endless and the spirit is within me
it begins and ends with me
it is not from my father nor my mother
but began with me and was given to me by the higher spirit
the devil’s mouth can mimic sweetness
and then turn into a pile of venomous snakes
but as long as i keep the gift from the higher spirit
the devil can never break me
Dedication
The fact that I
am writing to you
in English
already falsifies what I
wanted to tell you.
My subject:
how to explain to you
that I don’t belong to English
though I belong nowhere else,
if not here
in English.
Brother
Brother, a word true
You are the best one I’ve known
Even now it’s true
True you are not George
George is really a girl now
George and I love you
Feelings don’t change fast
Not when they’ve been set in stone
You are my sibling
Sometimes you are strange
But then I realize why
Then I feel sad too
But what doesn’t change
Is the love and the caring
You are not alone
My purple hat (La gorra purpura en haiku)
I want my hat back
It’s from NYU, you see
I paid for it man
It’s mine and not yours
Did you go to college man?
No, you dropped out dude
You’re not a doctor
My hat’s crying out for me
Help! Help! Help! It shouts
Blood, sweat and tears dude
That’s what I paid to get it
I loaned it to you
I hate this white hat
I want my purple one back
That says NYU
Class of ’97 man
I belong to it
That won’t ever change
Si entiendes
Yo quiero la gorra
De mi escuela
I speak in Spanish
Maybe you don’t know English
That’s right I forgot
Yo puedo hablar
Spanish better than you
Tu mama tiene
Verguenza for you
Who can blame her, not I sir
Si, yo tambien
Quiero la gorra
Una gorra purpura
That’s all I want now
If
This poem has been quoted to me on various occasions when I am sad, angry or not thinking clearly. Interestingly enough, part of it is etched on the Wimbledon Stadium. I highlighted the part that’s in Wimbledon.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream–and not make dreams your master,
If you can think–and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And–which is more–you’ll be a Man, my son!
–Rudyard Kipling
Con tiempo
Twenty first the Metro
That’s where we first met one night
You were too quiet
We didn’t drink ale
You heard my banana rule
Raw tomatoes too
The waiter was nice
What’s the best dessert to eat?
Key lime pie he said
I didn’t think you’d call
I frankly didn’t care much
You were too quiet
With time I liked you
We watched old movies and kissed
I had found my peace
You are so gentle
Yet a troubled soul beneath
Wanting good to last
We had a magic
But the troubled soul beneath
Cannot see new hope
Central Park is hope
Coney Island is hope too
Hot dogs with relish
Do you have cookies?
Who said that you could eat mine?
I like your cooking
I can get hyper
When I drink Starbucks coffee
I speak fast to you
I know how to speak
I am aware of myself
My heart speaks volumes