A list of to dos incomplete
You and I both disagreed
I've been thinking to call it quits
But both of us want to linger it.

I know your smile when it's just fake
I rub your shoulder to keep awake.
You rolled over my robe sleeping dead,
Just when I was leaving the bed.

I waited on the promises made,
They came too late - I moved ahead.
I fly alone on holidays,
A seat in tour buses is all it takes.

The reverse camera takes average frames,
Shoes and backpack claim I'm there
Strangers ask me if I'm alone,
I pass their queries in soft tones.

I wake in big hotel room alone
The morning prayer calls me at dawn.
The window brings in smells of sea
View of old city with breakfast tea.

Silence wakes my soul from sleep
A hungry nomad craves in me.
I'll be back soon in life of routine
Walls of prison, bubbles within.

I'll come home to sleep with your snores,
In my dreams I'll drive alone.

Mirrors on the wall often lie
I'm not perfect
I'm not there yet.
I have twins, loving parents, husband, work that I love,
a beautiful house on the bay,
Vacation on exotic islands
But I'm not there yet.

My neighbors splurge on LV
I only have Burberry
As if I have all the time in the world,
To hear housewives nag in the middle of my work.
I can't hang up,
I can't say shut the fuck up.

I pay my taxes
I wake at 4 am.
My mortgages are up to date
I'm at boot camp at 5 am.
My loans are all sorted out
I'm at work at 6:30 am.
I climb the stairs. I walk.
I quit sugar. I only eat healthy stuff.
But I'm not perfect. I'm not there yet.
I have that extra .4 pounds.

My buffet menu is elaborate
I decorate birthdays myself.
I want everything to be perfect.
That little kid just scratched my brand new bench.
Mrs X is packing left overs for everyone else.
I've more invitations to attend.
Potlucks, Housewarming gifts, another baby shower event.

My kids should get in Ivy League schools.
I'm worried to death.
I can't sleep. Maybe I should send them to private schools to graduate.
Yes they are just four.
But there is no harm planning early.

Mrs Z invited over to show off her new chaise.
Mr J flaunts his corvette.
My Facebook walls floods with husbands flaunting their wive's success.
Have I made it?
Perhaps not.
I hear nobody singing odes to my beauty or my success.
Haven't I done enough to deserve some envious green flashes.
I hate that middle age married bitch
Flirting and showing off.
I can't wear sleeveless, I can't show off enough cleavage.
I can't be stingy, I can't brag. 
shamelessly put up status on my wall, beat my own drums, shoot some down and put a crown on my head.

My friends say I have it all,
They say I'm glowing
My kids are the cutest.
My husband and I have the best couple shots.
I'm adored. I have the perfect body & health.
I turned 37 today
But I know for sure I am not perfect.
I know I'm definitely not there yet.

জ্বরের প্রলাপ

তোমার জন্য ভালবাসা সব জমাট কফ হয়ে আটকে আছে বুকের ভেতর,

জ্বরে পোড়ে কপাল, ওঠে পারদ, ফুসফুস শোনে ঋতু বদলের খবর.  

বুক ধরফরায়, নাকে নেই ঘ্রাণ, জিভ তেতো বিস্বাদ  

কপাল ছোয়না তোমার হাত, বিছানায় সারারাত এপাশ ওপাশ. 

সম্বল দুটো ট্যাবলেট, এক মগ তরল, কাচা কলার ঝোল,

সেল ফোন, সুডোকু, অসমাপ্ত অনুবাদ  আর অপরাধবোধ.

ভালবাসার অসুখ ছড়িয়ে পড়েছে সারা শহরে 

আহত, অসুস্থ তুমি আমি এবং আরো অনেকে.

সব ডাক্তারের একই চিকিত্সা তবু হাসপাতালে লম্বা লাইন, 

জানানো হয়নি তাকে গতরাতের সংলাপ,

দীর্ঘ প্রলম্বিত প্রলাপের বিষোদ্গার ও প্রক্ষালন. 

সময়ে অসময়ে ঘাম আর বিবিধ তরল বিছানা ভেজায় 

কফ সিরাপের নেশায় আধো ঘুমে আরো কয়েক দিন পেরোয়.

ঘোরের ঘোড়ার লাগাম হাতছাড়া হয়ে গেছে আজ 

ভালবাসার কফ থুতু ঝেড়ে ফেলাই এখন কাজ. 

কিউপিড আজ অমাবস্যার চাঁদ

ভালোবাসা এখন অসুস্থ হৃদপিন্ড

ভেজাল তেল চর্বিতে চোয়ানো পুরু দেয়ালে

অনিয়মিত তার প্রাণের প্রস্রবন।

গভীর ঘুমে জেগে ওঠা অবিশ্বাস হতাশার দরপতন,

আয়নায় রেখে গেছে আশংকার অপরিচিত ছাপ,   

অনির্দিষ্টকালের জন্য বন্ধ অলিন্দ,

খুলছে ভুলের সমীকরণ, অনিদ্রার অভিশাপ।

চামড়া কেটে ঢুকছে তোমার শব্দের যন্ত্রণা

সংখ্যাতিরিক্ত কণিকা গণিকাদের অধিকারে  

আমাদের শিৎকার, উন্মাদনা।

পরিচিত খোলা হাওয়া মেশেনা রক্তে

অলিন্দ নিলয়ের দেখা হয় প্রয়োজনে-অপ্রয়োজনে,

রঙ্গিন তরলেরা খোঁজে জমাট ক্ষোভ অভিমান

স্মৃতি, উদ্বেগে রুগ্ন পেশীরা চায় বিস্মৃতি, বিশ্রাম।

আমি ভুলে যেতে চাই কী ছিল তাদের নাম।

the beginning of happiness is the end of poetry

Words thrive in pain 

in dark circles, ego mania and in death of your reign.

The rings of smoke over liquids of fire,

Blow whistles at the starting line of our worst fear
As race begins between cheating hearts and doubts of my despair.

The love birds choke on affection
The cat strolls around the cage

The creepers pose threats to strangle
The magnificent commands over our brains.

The withered feathers end up in my pillows,
Caesar salad served for breakfast,   

the whipped cream of my labor round the year

rests on the blend of your bitter rage and scare. 

I drink from the bottom to the depths of your ear.

You are happy if I am quiet, not causing a lot of stare.

Discussions never end with spoons full of happy desserts,
Starters and mains forgotten no matter how good they were.
Peaches are bitches, always out of season
to not want to eat them should be all the more reason.

Forks leave scratches on plates and our tongues.
Plastic and papers wrap around convenient take away dinner.
Food doesn't taste good running on dangers of spills
Your after dinner speech starts rumblings in my stomach.
Stop babbling
Muse my words,
I'll scream in my dreams, but you don't have to hear.

A Mosquito's Revenge

There is no god speaking to me right now

I am left here hanging in fences hidden beneath the lights.

I smell my burnt wings, see my crushed belief in disbelief,

As I fail to learn the difference between hope and a death-trap.

My remains are swept off every morning with minimum wage,

Thousands of me, born again anonymous transforming till death.

My flight crashes in blood splatters in your hands in seconds,

in deadly applause that my vocal orchestra draws,

which counts as pleasure of killing (time) for some

or lunch for the slimy creatures in skilful play of curly tongues.

On rare occasions though our unison of revenge

permits a few chosen to strike back,

to carry on our striped wings a thousand year old message,

bites of shiver and a sudden collapse.

The years of observations of cycles of cautions, precautions say

To think of an escape would be just another disappointment.

For him the bell tolls

The bell rings twice these days

Pairs of sandals, shoes, sneakers pile at the entrance.

Basket full of boxers, blouse and petticoats for today’s laundry  

Two coffee cups, lunch boxes are now mandatory.

Queue before shower, about to go late

Lotions, potions, and a whole of lot of motions relayed.

Early dinner, late night snack, lying down in bed

Routines never thought of and yet naturally they came.

Staring at watches, waiting for bells to ring,

Disbelief in the clutching hands that always left without warning.

The arms, legs, chests and backs discover their complementing curves

Wrap around a perfect waist or caress a cushioned bust.

The nostrils fill with familiar smell,

The chemistry of salt and sour delicious as always.

The sound sources are alive, right across the ear

The moans and murmurs are on musical chairs.

It is too good to believe they are all here for real

Or perhaps a long wait before it all disappears.