Russian couple and The cat. 

The Russian couple, 

who live in the town, 

They don’t have concern over hunger 

Rather have concern in the taste. 

No concern over the noise in their house, 

But over the dust in the neighbor’s house. 

Responsible people. 

They have a good job, 

Good house, good car 

And a beautiful golden cat, 

That cat is a jewel of their house. 

They throw food at him, sometimes stones. 

They always care 

to keep some space from that cat. 

Stupid cat, he only wants enough food to survive. 

He is always on the wall, even in the rain. 

He didn’t see much, 

He didn’t taste much. 

He didn’t know much. 

Unlucky. 

They won’t let him go. 

They give food.

Realization 

Yesterday, I stole a song from a lass. 

And I realized 

why one of my old friends had stolen my painting last year. 

5 years ago. On an evening tea, 

She said, “I don’t like paintings.” 

Why?!! I asked curiously. 

“It’s boring to watch a painting. 

They are not real. It’s still.” she replied. 

I said, “Yeah, every painting is still, 

But there is always a factor that gives life to the painting.” 

“Anyway, they are fake. 

I am tired of watching artificiality.” She said desperately. 

A moment of silence. 

My mind whispered, 

“Yeah, every painting is a reflection of something, 

Hope, one day she will find herself that door.” 

Beautiful things should be discovered unforeseeably. 

After her robbery, 

I cursed her for a whole year. 

But didn’t try to understand her. 

I feel sorry for her now.

Prank 

After a long walk, 

she broke the silence at divergence. 

She said that I had changed a lot. 

And there is no purity left in me. 

Beat got distracted for a second. 

In return, I have a miserable smile. 

And we took our paths. 

Even during this morning walk, 

those words are repeating in my mind. 

After a long walk, at the turn, I broke the silence. 

I saw him struggling with a fake smile. 

And I smiled inside my mask. 

I thought, next day I can say that, 

It was just a prank. 

We moved forward. 

But today, in this morning, 

an accident takes my life. 

And the truth remains unrevealed.

Christmas year

See the trees glowing in their darkness. 

See the stars smile between its burning. 

See the delicious cake made by heating. 

Dear, We should see the small pieces of chocolates that hide in your pockets. 

There is no perfect year for Christmas. 

These stones are going to melt in tomorrow's snow. 

We should make some noise, now. 

Let's share our love. 

Let's support each other. 

Merry Christmas.

EXPECTATIONS 

Sometimes, life doesn’t go as planned. 

But I can’t help myself from planning. 

Many times I had enjoyed the moments, 

Before it happened, OR Even it never happened. 

In my every breath, in my every word 

There are some grains of expectations and planning. 

It’s about searching for freedom. 

And many times I got wrong. 

The more we plan to get some good sunshine. 

The more chaos will sprout in our way. 

I can see an infinite no of possibilities, 

But sometimes it seems like, 

Attempting to grab a rope of water. 

I always plan to get my friends closer 

But everything keeps moving afar. 

And It happens again and again. 

Even I lost my brother. 

Some people spill their sadness with us. 

And reserve their happiness for others. 

But we shared every letter of our book. 

Friend, I want to explore more with you, 

But today I feel like fading. 

Now, I can’t stop making plans. 

It became my life.

JUNCTURE

I went to the cobbler With, 

Teary pockets, 

Broken glasses but patched with glue, 

Time ripped pants, 

Cracked phone screen but run on patience, 

And rooted needles. 

I gave my sandal and sat on the big polished stone. 

Many sat there before. 

Then, it was me. 

From there, I saw, 

Many smelled rose and smiled. 

But I felt nothing. 

Because if you smell rose, 

You will be delighted. 

And if you smell some sewage, 

You will turn away with repugnance. 

After the first look itself, 

The cobbler said, "It needs complete repair" 

And I canceled my tea.

Remembrance 

I remember this Trail. 

Once it was a part of our days. 

We laughed and learned a lot along this way. 

Today these trees, shrubs, books… 

Everything has a sound of you. 

The Sun is struggling to get here. 

The path became more grassy. 

And the roots are trying to hold me again. 

But I am more cautious now. 

The brook beside the way is still here. 

But it looks strange, has some pace. 

I remember this place. 

We found a benign crab from here. 

And you placed it in my palm. 

All those happy hours. 

But we also lost everything right here. 

Now sometimes I try to stand on tiptoe, 

to see you from this dimension. 

You are more resilient now.  

And I am so happy with that. 

But I see your struggles with dreams. 

Being busy is good. 

You don’t have to be afraid of these woods. 

No more suffocation in memories. 

Need to clear those old playlists. 

We need new songs. 

New stories. 

You were an incredible friend.

Beauty in ceiling

This is not a story of swords and deceit or contagious tenet. 

It’s a story of some nebulous people, 

Who had their vagitus here. 

They conquered many mountains, 

Through these wooden stairs, By falling many times.

 Learned to read with carvings. 

Hid their secret in doodles. 

But, The safety scam hurdled their leap. 

Subdued by ruthless myth. 

They were forced to act like fools. 

They touched light through crannies. 

Some found beauty in ceilings. 

With thoughts, Some found pleasure in self-harm. 

Some found happiness in no entity. 

Coerced to conceal their blaze. 

And this opulent pot became their world.

 It’s a misfortune, 

To do nothing or not able to do something. 

But they also have an unsung story.

There is a possibility in “goodbyes” But it fades slowly.