Tuesday, October 29, 2019

Breakfast Mathematics

After one and two, comes three.

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Ledge Drei

Algebra শিখিয়ে গেল যাবার পথে,
দিচ্ছে যারা সুদূর পাড়ি একলা রথে,
যাচ্ছে যাদের কিনতে গিয়ে একটু চেনা,
হোক বা না হোক চেনার টানে বেচা কেনা |

The Ledge is এখন সবজান্তার শান্ত হিসেব,
Markov-এতে ঠ্যাং দোলানো বাপ Chebyshev;
The Ledge is এখন ল্যাজ্যবিহীন মস্ত critic
যার চাপেতে morphic হল analytic.

Ledge-কে ফেলে যতই হারাই আঁকেবাঁকে,
Ledge যে আমার usefully সঙ্গে থাকে !
কঠিন কথা বলায় সে যে সহজ পাঠে,
হোকগে না হয় সব goal আমার ফাঁকা মাঠে |

The Ledge is এখন হরেক বছর একই ছড়া,
নতুন ভাষায় সস্তা বুলির লেখাপড়া ;
Ledge কে দূরে থেকেও ভালবাসতে পারি !
Algebra পড়েও এখন হাসতে পারি।

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Saturday, October 26, 2019

Frenten

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My Kingdom For A Room

Like a poem I lost in sleep
And would dearly love to write,
A thickly blurred and flickering form,
Lit by memory fond and bright,
Rises when my waking breath
Strokes my patient bedside wall
And clings about my tired limbs
Until my nighttime deigns to fall.
Neither like unwelcome bird,
Nor like cogs in baleful hum;
Matchless in its radiant ease,
As blessed child in lay humdrum;
Consecrated but in mirth;
But in exploring, corrupt;
With what urgent, raucous joy
Does it my idyll tales irrupt!

In numberless numbered days,
Steadfast in contrarian grace,
Into my sight and taste and touch
It spirited pride anew;
So if all the world believes
That lilies bloom when memory grieves
Must I repent my stubborn spring
That sprouts but far and few?
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Wednesday, October 23, 2019

An Old Poem to Fill the Time

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Util

I built you back from the pieces of the boys who were your friends --
Like every seaside story, at my feet is where this ends.
Put a gaping hole where our own world used to be,
Fill it up with rum and coke and call it fantasy.

It used to be, it used to be :
I was used to you, you were used to me.
Everyone's got their own world where they could use a friend.
It used to hurt and crash and burn and beat down and offend.

I broke you down and deconstructed girls who loved you more;
I cracked your shell, and here you fell, upon my rocky shore.
Brew your bubbling, caffeinated, dated heresy;
Fake your fiction, contradiction, trills of melody.

It used to be, it used to be!
I had use of you, you had use of me.
Trodden twigs and wizened wigs don't feel quite all the same.
I hope your breath falls easy, love -- it used to be my name.
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