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  • Sandip Goswami (1/13/2014 2:08:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    WHO IS POET

    Who is the Poet

    Poet is a different personality in the universe,
    Whose voices come from soul
    Not lip, throat, heart, brain....

    Truly voice of the Almighty

    And every voice is universal truth

    Poet is not a part of any country, political parties and ism

    Poet creates different universe and true-ism

    And true leader, guide of the people in the universe.
    SANDIP GOSWAMI

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  • Sandip Goswami (1/13/2014 2:07:00 PM) Post reply

    ONLY FOR YOU

    Known, nothing will be written about me
    In any poem, story or essay

    Known, will not receive any co-operation from Governments
    Any honest or dishonest award...

    Nobody will burn incense on the day of my death
    Except my wife!

    Nobody will celebrate my birthday
    My birthday celebration will not happen...

    Although I am walking...thinking...creating...

    Only for You....Only for You...
    Only for You...My dream future...
    SANDIP GOSWAMI

  • Sandip Goswami (1/13/2014 2:06:00 PM) Post reply

    God And Woman (English & Bengali)

    God And Woman

    I did not want anything from The Almighty
    Sacrificed untouchable realization
    Which is symbol of myself
    And dedicated emotions, silence.

    I did not demand anything from the woman
    Allowed her into the corner of my mind
    Which is the center of bleeding
    And presented my intuition.

    The Almighty and the woman repeatedly call
    Destruction in my lonely life
    It's the ability to do more by them...

    ????? ??? ????

    ??? ??????? ???? ???? ??? ??
    ?????? ????? ?? ???????
    ???? ?????? ??? ??? ??? ??????
    ?? ???? ????, ???????

    ??? ????? ????? ???? ??? ??
    ??? ???? ???? ?? ???????
    ????????? ???? ??? ??????
    ?? ???? ????????

    ????? ??? ???? ???? ??????????
    ?????? ????? ???? ???
    ?? ???? ?????? ?????? ???? ????
    SANDIP GOSWAM

  • Ian Jobst (1/13/2014 12:30:00 PM) Post reply

    I am Ian C. Jobst, and am fourteen years old. This poem was written in response to Edgar Allen Poe's Birth Day

    My Nefarious Love

    My nefarious love
    Angel wings of a dove
    Velvet voice tethered fell
    My heart yearning
    none other quell
    Yet behind ye façade
    and thy honeyed skin
    lies a soul of evil and sin
    Yet in ponderance I wonder
    If oureth love shall end asunder
    Yet just then my eyes caught
    upon gleam of light
    I beheld on my nightly vigil
    a grave and dear fright
    Yet Just as it I beheld
    did my eyes grow dim
    And so it was that
    my mistress my heart
    Took out my own
    and sliced it apart
    As blood pooled cross
    my lifeless chest
    I became but a soul,
    a wraith of no delight
    And call terror to her own though it be black as night
    And so I haunt her
    my mistress my heart
    I gave unto my mistress
    And she tore me apart

    Ian Jobst

  • James T. Karam (1/12/2014 11:41:00 PM) Post reply

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    Salem Willows, Ma



    When I was young in my time
    my family would take me to
    Salem Willows in the summertime.

    Oh those fond memories of Chop Suey at the Chine man place,
    he who once gave me a Mickey Mouse spoon, bright an shine, but lost in time,
    and with his pepper steak and the wonderful pop corn it was all just to fine.

    Memories of that time all gone now,
    in my old age here in El Paso, Texas
    I still smell the Salem Willows ocean in my mind
    and see my self playing on the rocks by the wooden pier...

    Many walks around the park,
    it was always picnic time...

    Oh how I long and miss you Willows,
    you bring back my many happy time

    Thank You...

  • Justin Pierce (1/12/2014 12:18:00 AM) Post reply

    I cannot ever be who you are
    My heroes have been heads of family
    Started their own businesses
    Controlled their own destinies
    I am a follower
    My dreams come in second to legacy
    I do not match up in faith
    I fall short in every aspect
    I can only lead my own children
    And I know that I will be found
    Even there, lacking
    I only want to be there for you
    I wait still for that time to come
    I love you and respect you more than life
    I hop
    e you are not disappointed that it is I
    Who make the final decisions

  • Noel Ofuyatan (1/10/2014 1:36:00 PM) Post reply

    FRIENDS
    Friends are the best
    They always put you first
    If i tell you the rest
    Then maybe you will confess
    That friends are the best

    I might have enemies
    But at least i can see
    That you are with me
    And if you need anything
    Just know you can count on me

    If there was a door and i had the key
    Just Know its for you and me
    If i should give you anything
    Just know its for free
    I LOVE MY FRIENDS

  • John Long (1/10/2014 1:06:00 PM) Post reply

    Her eyes were like olives
    her hair like straw
    each word spoken was wind
    and her hands felt like plastic.

  • Jesiah Mendoza (1/10/2014 11:06:00 AM) Post reply

    HEAR MY CRY
    You are as beautiful as a flower, only if you would shower and change that doh care informal attire.Yes! that would be such an honour for mother and father my dear..What a disgrace but look at her face when I tell her she's as sour as bad grapes, she's continuously pouting and giving me this doubting feeling.But look at her mother can't she control her.Oh goosh give the poor woman a break.This little girl needs to learn that she's a burden and to swirl and get out of my face.

  • Ed Nigma (1/9/2014 8:25:00 PM) Post reply

    This Selfish Question.


    It seems as though you lost your way home

    So where was it anyways?

    I followed the lights that flew in this direction

    Until a varying distraction of shapes displayed

    In a haze became a magnificent glow of

    violent displeasure.



    So abrupt was this vanishing treasure

    As was the taste, erased.

    Lost in the silence of sound

    Above me was a reflection

    That mirrored a sort of map on the ground



    Inside of myself I screamed, I must find a way out!

    Now each step is a trap, but this pain beckons me

    to push past the words that follow



    As I run my finger down the center of this page

    I remember the beginning was the future from which I came

    Overwhelmed by the quest in the connection

    Dissecting the end was in question



    Then in a wave of relief it all made sense

    As the lights formed in a linear array

    That my addiction to placebos led me to this runway

    Where I alone had faith I'd catch this plane that I had chased

    Allan Gerard

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