The End of Winter, Oh Crimson-

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The sun sinks down the ocean waves
Dyeing the sky into the holiest of shades
They blend the hues of lilac and purple
From her red lipstick stain
And his deep blue eyes

As the stars shimmer on the cosmos
Constellations light up the dark night
They dance bare feet on sand
Her crimson gown swirls as she sway
He dressed in navy with a touch of grey

Whilst the night is young
And the love is ripe
Her hair run through his fingers
A full moon shines in his eyes
A touch of love, a sip of wine

They’ll be killed for what they’ve done
Lest they care, for their hearts are one
Fingers twined in a constant sway
The purest of smile and a blush on their face
Let their lips to embrace

of all seasons, winter is the one
same with all shades and the crimson

By
Atta ul Kibria

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The Queen’s Revolt-

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She’s tired but not broken
She hesitated but she’s fearless
The scars engraved on her soul
She doesn’t hide the tyrant’s mark
The rebel inside, her eyes’ spark

Oh, this is the beginning
Of the King’s reckoning
nail him to his throne
shame him and take away his crown
Clothe him in sins and make him walk his town

Oh, this is the beginning
Of the mighty Queen’s rising
All those dirty hands, now burnt
Like a lioness set out to hunt
Oh, she fears not and she’s blunt

Oh, this is the beginning
Of the mighty Queen’s revolt
A new era of courage, behold!

By
Atta ul Kibria

Incarnadine-

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A night darkest of all
Thunder roared and the winds howled
The moon blanketed by the mist
The horses neighed in the stables
As the downpour rattled the old castle
A shadow in the light of the flickering flame
A daunting face, a trembling body
Hands incarnadined with blood
A cursed soul from the depths of hell
Buried beneath the multitudes of sins
His virtues pleaded for mercy
All hail! the Lord of impiety
He stumbled and fell on the cold floor
His hollow breaths echoed in the hallways
A dagger seeped into his unholy heart
A dagger forged from light and love
And cooled in the golden chalice
of the divine wine from the heaven
His soul so corrupted, the light be its poison
Standing in the shadows are
The sons and daughters
Of the oppressed and ravaged
With emotionless smiles on their faces
They showered petals and glitters on his dying body
Rejoice! the end of darkness
Rejoice! the end of tyranny
Open the gates of thy hell
The King of impiety approaches

By
Atta ul Kibria

 

In My Dream-

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Every night you’re in my dream
I see you dance and hear you scream
A million tales for you to tell
Of heavens above and the hell

I wish this acquaintance to be true
With all the secrets that you already knew
I invite you tonight, to share my bed
Together we fight demons, in my head

Every time I look in your eyes
My heart stops, my time flies
That majestic spread of your dark hair
Let me embrace your body bare

I wish it was all so real
The emotions inside, that I feel
To my love, there is no end
Your beauty makes my broken heart to mend

Every night you’re in my dream
I see a shadow amidst lightning
So far away yet close, you stand
Begging me to hold your hand

Every night you’re in my dream
The Poet falls into your lovely scheme
A million words for him to write
As he drinks, all through the night

Every night you’re in my dream

By
Atta ul Kibria

Disgraced-

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She sat by the fire
With a cup of tea
And a slice of pale cheesecake
As the wintry night grows old

Filled with despair and hatred
There’s a void in her soul
She felt everything but love
She, who’s the personification of beauty

Her life, a caravan of dark tales
Demons that suck the life out of her
And a wagon driver that tainted her beauty
The lady once revered, now disgraced

Accused of deceit and impiety
She dreams every night
Of killing her wrongdoers
And to return

Into the warm embrace of her lover
To drown in his watery eyes
To grow wings and fly
Over the head of this cursed society

By
Atta ul Kibria

The Lady Envy-

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There lived a poet and his wife
In a small shut
Above the misty mountain
Snow blanketed the woods
As the sun shies to shine

A lovely little home
Filled with romance and music
With a typewriter in a corner
And a fireplace in another
Sweet aroma of coffee lingered

She used to listen to his prose
About her beauty and her eyes
As they both sit by the fire
With his head resting in her lap
and she caressing his hair

A knock disrupts them one night
A mysterious lady at the door
So gorgeous and madly graceful
Dressed in a black cloak
With a smile to melt hearts

The couple welcomed her in
As she requested a night’s stay
Something about her eyes
Made the poet flinch, her unreal beauty
Made him stutter

As the poet leaves to write
The ladies sat and sipped
The cunning in black, the white naive
She cast a spell on his wife
As her words seduced to conspire

They poisoned the poet’s breakfast tea
As he fell down in agony
Soon his soul departs
The ladies stood there
With cold hearts they watched

The lady in black walks out the door
Whilst the wife tries to stop her
“For whom isn’t mine
Can’t be someone else’s”, she says
The wife snapped out of her spell

The lady disappeared
Amongst the dark ravens
In that cold
The wife remained; with his dead body
And her dead soul

By
Atta ul Kibria

 

The Reply-

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Dear Sir,

I’m writing this by my very hands
I’ve been delighted by your kind words
But I’m afraid we can’t meet

Your words have loneliness filled in them
And they sunk deep inside my heart
There’s a strange attraction in your writing

Reading it, I could almost hear you
Crooning, standing in your balcony
On a mild summer’s eve

I felt joy, when you admired my beauty
You too, are very handsome
It’s not that I don’t like you

You’re an art, an eloquent man
I know how fastidious your life is
I’m afraid, I might spill wine over your pages

Behind this veil of beauty
Is a trembling little girl
I’m afraid that I’ll spoil you

I know our paths will keep crossing
But I doubt we’ll ever talk
We can sit, tables apart

We just can’t talk
Your verses are magnificent
I’m glad I can be a part of them

You sir, are a poet
This might break your heart
But it’ll fuel you, to write and write

With love,
The Lady with bicolour hair

A Letter to Her-

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Dear Ma’am,

This is from a person
A man, who lost himself
The day our paths crossed

I’ve been overwhelmed
By your beauty
By your miraculous eyes

I’ve been hearing your voice
In the chirping of nightingales
The choirs of heaven

I’ve been seeing your face
In the glorious full moon
Amongst the lustre of stars

I’ve been sniffing your scent
In the blossoming flowers
And around the baker’s shop

I’ve been craving those lips
For I’ve tasted every wine
None sweeter than you

This is a humble request
Approve of me, for another glimpse
To calm this cacophony inside me

May I take you to the coffee shop
Or the old book store
For I’ve run out of words and elixir

I shalt be seeking
Your answer, no matter what
But written by your very hands

Yours Truly,
The Winter Poet

The Last Day of Hope-

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Tell these clouds to shower
May these blazes devour
Let these pages burn
Let the widows mourn

For the hope is diminished
Weak, the innocent are punished
Just let my pages feed the flame
My poems and ashes; be the same

Our new delicacy is denial
Pomp, poverty and greed so vile
Ravaged women and blown up limbs
All the grace to my bloody Kings

Let my pages burn; to add
To your tranquil, I’m glad
We never deserved that wealth of books
But to be vanquished by you crooks

After all, there might be a solution
Not a revolt or a revolution
But to embrace these chains as necklace
Waiting for these whips to break us

By
Atta ul Kibria

 

The King Sin-

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In the crowded street
A boy with bare feet
On his chest a golden robe

All eyes on him as he passes by the stall
Lost in his thoughts, trying to recall
He knows who he is but not where he comes from

“50 shillings for the robe, boy!”, shouts a vendor
“60!”, screams another as they begin to render
Soon he finds himself surrounded by the mob

Luster of the golden robe started a quarrel
Everyone after him, his head begins to swirl
Soon he drifts, not dead but in a black abyss

The mob is dispersed now
People walking past him without care, how low
His body lies there; numb and cold, in the crowded street

He opens his eyes, it’s all so bright
It’s warm and serene, he feels so light
Laying naked on white silk, a room with pale bricks

The sunlight tearing through the big window
The giant curtains sway with the wind
“You’re awake, sire”, says an old voice

“Your kingdom awaits you”
He goes to the window and takes a view
It’s the spot he remembers, where he once died

The town is on fire
The streets are empty
Walls stained with blood

He hears a flapping sound
His robe caught up in a sword he found
Engraved on the sword, the words were

“The one true King with bare feet
Forged in lust and greed
Thy demise thou shalt meet”

He puts on the robe and he’s back
The street is crowded again
But this time he knows where he comes from

The child of lust and greed
He’s a sin

By
Atta ul Kibria