Nonpoetic Poetries (English)
- Subrata Shuvro
- Jun 26, 2022
- 7 min read
Updated: Feb 20, 2024
I want to sit
somewhere
in the dark,
thinking I’m
leaning on
your shoulder.
I want to know
you want to kiss me
even if
you never do,
even if
you’ve never
imagined it.
dreams
are in walks in hills
and black umbrellas
it rains
in all my dreams.
elephants
hiding beneath
blades of grass
on an unkempt lawn,
you still love me
in all the empty spaces,
all the empty places
I’ve been.
you’ll be
the only one
who ever loved me,
the only one
who ever leaned in,
wishing to be kissed,
while everyone else
leaned away,
and I
won’t know about you
until after I’m gone,
until after the world
has turned into
something new.
I wish you were here
I wish if I was with you, whatever
lying across together in the hilly green fields,
reading me, poems
you had written
for me and no one else.
I’m jealous that way,
I need them to be for me.
And I would be taking
photograph stories
of you with my pen,
showing everyone
how beautiful you are
to my heart.
I wish I were beautiful,
I wish I were beautiful,
and you could point at me,
saying, “Look, he’s mine.”
I love you;
some day it will change the world,
just not today
not today
asked to wait
a lifetime to find you,
now asked
to wait some more,
but you need to know,
someone needs to tell you,
you’re not alone anymore.
.
18022024
:: ::
3:14 am, a bit far of morning,
still dark,
I should be sleeping,
but you're singing
in my head, in my heart.
the moon is going
to be rested
upon the eastern sky.
oh, my soul bird,
I have windows
in my soul
left open for you
to pass through
my blue heart.
my blue heart,
though I have fallen
I am flying.
If you were mountain I could be rain and we could give birth to rivers.
:: ::
a dream
within a dream
which is not a dream at all
but a reaching
into darkness for someone
reaching out of the darkness
for me.
everything.
everything I am
is a poem
about a deep, dark
winter forest, and
an ancient winter tree
leaned against
the wind
and waiting,
baring its soul
to the cold
and to the burning fingertips
of one who once
in a lifetime passes
close enough
to touch.
new flowers,
yellow, popping up
in the tall grass,
searching
for the sun,
this is not their story,
that's for someone else
to write.
this is about lovers and night birds and lovers
and how the night is just the night
until without announcement
it is something more.
low clouds
race across a starless night,
sneaking past the moon,
throwing the covers back
exposing soft kisses
and circles drawn
on a simple air.
did I ever tell you I love you?
remind me, later.
I'll find a way to say it again, if I never did.
:: ::
and so
you're in a cage,
and so
you spread your wings
and
you dream,
flying,
and in the dream
you fly so high
you forget
you're dreaming
and you forget
to come down,
and this, too,
is freedom,
even
in a cage.
:: ::
if you see
a tree, alone
in an empty field,
the tree
is a lover.
if you see
a thousand trees,
they are an audience,
and they have
killed the field.
once upon a time,
i thought
i was a field.
:: ::
a boy beneath a tree
sings I love you to
where the lights
come on.
voyeur on the lawn
dreams whispered hellos
to the silhouette
pressed
against a late in the night curtain.
the boy feels the girl he imagines
must sleep beneath
her own personal
moonlight.
if he loves her again today,
would she know his heart is still
blue?
:: ::
I know nothing of loneliness
and everything of solitude,
a series of windows
separating me from them,
and from you,
even loving you.
:: ::
I am a seed
blown onto a desert highway
once empty jars
filling with the dust
of silence.
:: ::
today
I dreamed
you loved me.
You weren't sleeping.
You were sitting
by the window,
looking down
at the steps.
I was coming up,
yellow flowers
in my arms.
a thousand suns,
you said.
they were for
the empty room.
You said
even an empty room
deserves a thousand
suns.
today
I dreamed
I loved you.
:: ::
I have
all voices
inside me,
with yours.
I am filled
with my lust,
and yours,
my piety,
and yours.
what I do not have
is your flesh
upon mine,
and for this,
I find myself
lacking.
:: ::
I wishes
not to be
bothered as
you reads
between the lines,
discovering
I loved you
even before i knew you.
:: ::
We've met
and you asked,
'have we met before?'
I said, not sure.
and I asked to
my memory
a hundred times,
I'm not good with memories.
But yes, I've told,
you're the woman i ever wanted
in life to walk with.
And your eyes,
yes,
I'll remember,
till last breathe.
Perhaps, I love you.
All I need is your presence.
One day I'll be so old then,
I will tell you that
I need to tell you something.
I'll apologize
not to say that,
You are my home,
would you let me walk
beside you, even as friend?
Also I will also apologize
for being so old.
Maybe you'll say never mind.
:: ::
songs end,
but the night
never does.
come here,
I have something
to show you,
it's hidden
in my sleep.
if you could
touch my hair,
caress the corners
of my mouth,
all my dreams
would turn
to lovers,
one lover
in the morning.
you are a poem
already written,
invites my silence,
the stillness
of my pen,
the quiet
of my heart.
standing
in the rain.
:: ::
You,
you are not just
the songs in my head,
you are
the songs
inside of my mind,
where plants can breathe inside of me.
you are
the songs of love.
and I
can't sleep,
listening
your voice.
I should
tell you I
love you,
I think I do.
Or maybe
you are poem
written before me,
written before I arrived?
I just don't know.
:: ::
An imaginary conversation
with an imaginary woman
on an imaginary island
in an imaginary
Ionian sea
in which I say
I love you
from deep my heart
fifty two times
in fifty two languages
none of which
either of us fully understands
but they all sound
a little like silence.
02 September 2018
:: ::
it is it is
the worst of people
who want power.
watch them, closely,
they will steal the world
if we let them.
the worst of people
who want power.
watch them, closely,
they will steal the world
if we let them.
:: ::
I thought
your eyes
were the two
darkest nights
that had ever
been,
and I wanted
to look...in, I
wanted to see
my reflection,
but there was
no reflection,
only the abyss.
only the abyss.
:: ::
I can not
sing, the songs
I write, one after
another, about
loving you.
a picture
postcard of
a woman
undressing
in black and
white,
and I,
by the window,
standing
by the window
in starlight,
watching,
unable
to move.
:: ::
He wants it to be poetry
that she loves him,
but she doesn't know
about love, she probably
doesn't even know
about poetry, so he writes
a thousand love letters
a day, pins them
to wall, his minds wall
in an empty room,
runs to the mail box
at the bottom, of the steps
a hundred times a day
to see if she answered.
sits down on the bottom step
wishing he knew better words.
if he only knew better words..
#non-poetic
20-21 September, 2018
Your art
has to be you,
it can not be
a separate thing.
if you give it away,
if you sell it,
it still has to be you.
:: moon ::
Oh moon.. just the two of us, again.
the way things have always been.. just you and me, the swing and countless of nights.. i guess i should let it go.. .
tell me moon, do you think they ever look up or search for you in the dark sky when you're not full?
we both know they only care when you are bright and shiny.. tell me moon, do you think they care to see what happens on the dark side of yours, the one that's always hidden?
we both know they only see what they want to see.. No one cares what's beyond your surface. .. tell me moon, do you think that they would even find you beautiful if you were not showing them the way with your light?
we both know they take and take and take until you have no more..
oh beloved moon, i guess it's just the two of us now. .
as always, it's only you and me. but the fact is you, me and every characters of nature all lives with us..
promise me something, will you?
i promise you, i will always look up and search for you even when you are hidden behind the clouds, or when you are extremely small to even notice but promise me this.
promise me, that you will always light my way, reminding me that i, by myself, am whole and complete.
oh moon, it's just the two of us now.
i think i should just let it go.. .
:: Hope ::
Put your little broken dream
Inside the little silver box
We’ll hand the box down
From generation to generation..
:: ::
Everyone should have the right to love.
You are the universe.
But society teaches fear of the Universe.
Fact, society teaches limitation.
:: ::
what if
I needed it
to rain
every day
the rest of my life,
could you
still love me?
first, if you are interested,
second, if you are patient,
you will find your own voice.
:: :: is it poetry
that I think of you
when the sky rains,
and when it doesn't?
is it poetry
that the bed sheets
are clean and cool
and waiting?
is it poetry
that soon
the grass will fill
with fireflies?
no,
such emptiness
could never be poetry.
ones heart would have to be so big,
to make it poetry,
and mine,
well, mine...
:: :: nothing
about her
replies
to my whys,
i love this
best
about her.
if it rains
today,
I will fall in love.
:: ::
I want to wake up tomorrow
lost and alone and wondering
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