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November 27, 2023
"Mes de los Muertos"


By Rehanul Hoque


The Southern wind blows reminding the intensity of your thirst
The bluish sky with ruddy lips echoes your heartfelt entreaties
Your dark hair taking after Nimbus amassed of a Nor'Wester
Drives to fall into the abyss headlong and
The mysterious language of your eyes is but lure of everlasting first love.
Your breasts brimming out of sweetened unison are
Eccentric, too errant to break years' meditation of a recluse
The two points get connected with a Sind and make triangle
Anamika stands the median
It's too tough to cross a stormy whirlpool

Immense flows from the sky break down upon the winding course of youth
Paint on every fold with swirling brushstrokes
The tides recede far away, further
The small boat becomes old, over time it gets broken and worn-out
Now the boat floats lonely across mid sea leaving behind some scrawls;
In a night in dream, the only companion proves to be
Anamika, queen of mystery.

Article © Rehanul Hoque. All rights reserved.
Published on 2020-12-14
Image(s) are public domain.
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