Archive for category poems/lyrics

ভাল(না)বাসার আহ্বান

স্কুলের খাতায় তোমায় না দেওয়া চিঠি
বুকপকেটে ভালবাসার আহ্বান,
আমার ছেড়া স্যান্ডেলে জমে থাকা
তুমিহীন পথ হাটার ধূলো, অম্লান।

আমায় তুমি দেখনি কোনদিন
জানোনা জন্ম কবে,
ভাল লাগে বিটলস, ওয়ারফেজ
তোমার জন্য না গাওয়া গান, রবে।

জানি তোমার চুল কেমন কালো
মেখেছি তোমার প্রিয় রং,
চায়ের সাথে এক চামচ চিনি
ভাল লাগে না কোন ঢং।

তুমি দেখেও দেখনি আমায়
তোমার টিএসসির মোড় বড্ড বড়
এত ভালবাসার ভীড়ে
আমার প্রেম ভয়ে, জড়সড়।

হয়তো চিনবে কোনদিন এভাবে
পাশে তোমার সাজানো ঘর,
আমি বেখাপ্পা হৃদয় তখনো
তোমার কল্পনায় কাতর, অদ্ভূত ঝড়।

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So, Just Live It Out

You’ve fought too hard
You’ve woken up too fast,
It’s another day of disappointments
Or another night to last.

There’s a song in your heart
You want to scream it out;
But the winds won’t let you,
They just shut you out.

You’ve tried too far
Taken it all in one,
The music plays at the background,
But you’re not getting up.

If it were another day,
You would’ve given it a shot;
Today is just not right
For another heartbreaking start.

Let the nights unfold
And lift you up,
Make your wishes come true
The candles blow out.

The stars to shine,
Red leaves at dusk,
You’ve got another day to live,
So, live it out.

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The Pledge of The Passionate Pen

I am one of those arrogant,
The ones who don’t like sharing individuality,
Who enjoy criticism only from the finest
In her eyes, and in her perspective.

I am one of those egotists,
Who are protective of who they are,
And despise being defined
As anything short of flawless.

I am a pen who scratches thoughts,
Thoughts that only belong to me,
In my own darkness,
Or the glittering light beneath it.

Sadly, the pen is not alone,
There are minds who want to play with it,
Thoughts that want to be scratched
Forcefully, note carefully –
Not because I want it, but because they do.

They don’t harbour my singularity,
They don’t belong to my mentation,
They are plurals of a myriad body,
A continuous disillusionment,
An unanimous majority.

The pen will scratch,
Blot ink on a papered imagination,
For it lives, basks and breathes on it;
Yet, it will not submit to their demands,
For it is unique, in its own belief.

The writer grows wings on her own,
Feathers of fantasy, strings of reality,
Her reality, not theirs;
For she is the sole proprietor,
Of her phanstasms, and many things.

They urge it to transform,
Change its course according to their needs,
For they are failures in her view,
Afraid of confrontation, subconscious eschew;
Apathetic she,
The pen knows to scratch for her only.

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Evanescent

Sultry night,
Silver lining across the blue moonlight,
Her perfectly balanced features;
A golden hue,
Pronouncing remnant’s of Ra’s might.

You see, moments like these
Don’t come in a lifetime,
They come once in a while,
Many a times, their magic ephemeral,
The epiphany of a blissful sight.

The skies have a way of being cruel,
Heartless, intreptid,
Basking in self-proclaimed immortality;
A condescending reminder
Sent out to mere mortals
Who’re nothing but dots to thee.

What is it to live for years,
A decaying body, disparaging serendipity? 
Dubious thou, to the meaning of being,
Yet so fadcinated, tireless reasoning.

The epitaph reads
“Born to this date
Died too soon,
Here lies the insignificant man
Swallowed by phantasms,
Of eternal gluttony.”

There are similar others
In the lush green grounds,
A feast for the worms,
As Satan prepares for their souls,
Mistaken in being, to be profound.

Sunken dusklight,
Another moonless night,
The dreamsayer gazes above the heights,
Lustful desires, a desparation too familiar.
A time too short,
A dope to living eyes.

Her beauty for eternity,
Your existence, notorious brevity,
Another reminder, blaring lights;
This is not your moment,
Only fragments of time.

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First Impressions

First impressions,
Better be your best,
No one’s waiting around
To see what’s in store for the rest.

A small secret revealed,
Glasses of reveries,
A teaspoon of chagrin,
Imaginations and imageries.

You have to be cherry on the top,
A plump of sugar-coated pretensions,
Curses to that unholy image you’ve built up,
This isn’t time for self-detection.

Old men, tucked comfortably in the lady’s arms,
Belong to me, or belong not
They have the money, not the grace;
A tip of champagne, comparative gloat.

The party goes on,
Laughter, madness, sound of ’70s pop
Business deals signed, greens exchanged,
Hands down, the prettiest buys the lustiest shop.

The night comes to life,
Children forgotten, families non-existent,
Glittering blazers, gold-cupped stone rings
Escapade of earthly responsibilities.

Some things never change,
Some desires left forever unkempt,
They spent lives building dynasties,
Comfortable BMWs, the flashiest SUVs.
In vain? You make ask,
Or not,
Because first impressions are your last.

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Where Does The Good Go (Tegan & Sara)

Where do you go with your broken heart in tow
What do you do with the left over you
And how do you know, when to let go
Where does the good go, where does the good go
Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t find me attractive
Look me in the heart and tell me you won’t go
Look me in the eye and promise no love’s like our love
Look me in the heart and un break broken, it won’t happen
It’s love that breaks the seal of always thinking you would be
Real, happy and healthy, strong and calm, where does the good go
Where does the good go
Where do you go when you’re in love and the world knows
How do you live so happily while I am sad and broken down
What do you say it’s up for grabs now that you’re on your way down
Where does the good go, where does the good go

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Flying Without Wings (Westlife)

everybody’s looking for a something
one thing that makes it all complete
you’ll find it in the strangest places
places you never knew it could be

some find it in the face of their children
some find it in their lovers eyes
who can deny the joy it brings
when you’ve found that special thing
you’re flying without wings

some find it sharing every morning
some in their solitary lives
you’ll find it in the words of others
a simple line can make you laugh or cry

you find it in the deepest friendship
the kind you cherish all your life
and when you know how much that means
you’ve found that special thing
you’re flying without wings

so impossible as they may seem
you’ve got to fight for every dream
cos who’s to know which one you let go
would have made you complete

well for me it’s waking up beside you
to watch the sun rise on your face
to know that i can say i love you
at any given time or place

it’s little things that only i know
those are the things that make you mine
and it’s like flying without wings
cos you’re my special thing
i’m flying without wings

you re the place my life begins
you’ll be where it ends
i’m flying without wings
and that’s the joy you bring
i’m flying without wings


Lyrics of one my most favourite songs of all times. Originally by Ruben Studdard, it has been covered by several artists. Of the many versions I’ve listened to, I like Westlife’s one the most. Maybe because I discovered this song in their voice at a very early age, thus leaving an impression on me.

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