My Love, My Pain, My Lost Moments Of Talking Excellence. Poem by ASIM KUMAR PAUL

</><I think her as Beatrice and praise her excellence in beauty,
She lives at distance, her pretty face calls me to love,
and I see her stealthily, she talks with me,
and she gives me a love poem, and now she is away
from the glass screen, and in the last talk she says,
“I cannot be your sweet lover or sweet dream.
I am at a distance, and try to forget me,
I have my life and my choice. my kids.
So my environment does not match you,
Dear friend try to understand me,
there is life beyond this screen,
and life is beautiful if you make it to think about it.
So forget me. And leave me alone with my life at my place.”

I do not resist anything opposite to my feeling,
and I want to conquer it,
Posses it, love it, make it own, and try to be honest with it,
and I like to hear the love woman voice always
that can lift me to the life of ground beauty between two lovers,
no fiction, no division, and there I want only love,
as if a unseen painter paints our love scenes on the celestial screen,
Or someone great is writing a great love poem on our love,
on its wholeness of love, on its periodic oscillation of love,
and I become more valiant to conquer her.

Right then she writes, “I beg to you not to call me,
I cannot be yours. I want to live my life, my stand,
wherever poor it is my position,
I want to be Iron Gate of life. Dear friend.”

And her word ‘beg’ has changed whole of my life to live in wounds.



/>