Best Verdicts Poems
the sky resonates
with what’s written in the silk of stars,
in pulse-burned pensiveness,
penned in poignancy,
personifying pain
with yellow-gold dust,
where lament liquefies and softens
into an ethereal lake,
chronicling it with surging blue sparks ~
an evening elixir, enveloped
in confetti cravings…
this l o v e knows not
the ingredients of
ephemeral effervescence,
as the thriving tip of twilight
manifests the magic of want,
whilst I tremble,
engrossed in the thought
of moon-flame touch,
brimming,
brewing,
breathing
across cups of catharsis,
concocted with caffeinated calmness ~
aligning the inner innocence
still longing in loneliness,
amidst seated strangers
lost in their own appetizing lyrics,
clothed in cold cobalt colors,
unaware of the emptiness
they feed their mindless muse
from superficial spoons
filled with smoke and silence ~
like scattered illusions,
illustrated with surreal ink…
what if I hold onto forever fallacies
hiding within?
would I be promised
a peaceful plate of patience
beneath ineffable iridescence ~
for I’ve feverishly struggled
to rephrase the verdicts behind
faces phasing in the haze of life,
sipping sorrow
as if it were mocha ~
balmy, bittersweet,
burning in sync with my
Swarovski crescent crooning
lullabies to diamonds dancing
in infinite nebulae,
carrying secrets the table holds,
served in sincere oblivion…
and I am still learning and healing
the soul’s breaking lines,
to leave lovelorn reveries
without losing the light of lucidity,
letting go of their narrow narrative
of me and my ache ~
of us and our heat,
as even the routined routes
could not erase what’s
handwritten in a heart made heavy…
so wait not for the
rise of supernova sanguinity ~
I am not the warmth of woven woes.
I am a charismatic chameleon,
~ c o m p l e x ~ cautious ~
catching comet-notes,
camouflaged in melancholic versions
of humankind,
hiding vulnerability
within firm flares of vivid vibrations…
O beloved night,
on this terrace, I devour, not alone,
but evermore lonely,
i m m e r s e d
in the forlorn frequency
of stellar fire…
I rise from the white-wine siesta,
letting go of the serpentine songs,
like a crimson-winged dragonfly
lost in the poppy prairies of Persephone,
untangling my prisoned heart
chained by the churning
deceit of Hades’s immortal chains,
savoring pomegranate promises,
pirouetting through petrichor nirvana,
as the sky smells like a saffron rose
above the castle of emperors
dressed in fallen flowers.
Yet the diamonds sometimes are
engraved with ominous omens
and remorseless remnants,
while I return to cinnamon seclusion,
dancing to the mood of my moon.
O divine dandelion,
in your eyes I see suppressed sighs
of a splintered sunrise,
flickering balmy zephyrs of paradise,
as my soul is tied to the softness
of your delicate dusk~
like a faithful disciple,
forever following your footprints~
while velvety roots of florals
face the glows of alchemy,
amidst the array of arrows,
left as ashes of gold gone cold,
and the gracious gusts of gloaming
devouring the unscrupulous wounds
of a fragranced dawn.
I am the aching pigment
in your palette of purples,
longing for butterfly blurs
to bring me back to a
kingdom of kindness,
where I’ll forever breathe tender lilies
rinsed with wind-swept wishes.
But amidst the clusters of jewels
and raining sakura,
tonight I choose to walk with
specters of scorching stars,
allowing curves of my scarred skin
to burn from the blazing breeze
that bleeds nefarious narratives
upon the bleached borders.
So watch me waltz into the
infernal waters of the deep, bruised bay.
There I’ll write an elegy,
for the sorrow that swallowed your spirit.
I will find an anchor to pull
you back to the land of paper lanterns
as I surrender to the
haunting hues of the horizon;
the sweet sacrifice of a beloved blackbird
singing farewell in silence
to save you from the devilish underworld.
As dandelion dreams
are designed in lucid lies,
carving my essence into wintry wires
of woes and verdicts
from the
growing vines of a
villainous valley.
I feel the blackbird weep, it’s everything
I see the blackbird quiver, it’s what you bring
dreary
d a n d e l i o n
Sometimes, we expect
the sun to rise and smile,
through hazy hellish clouds
carrying vindictive
verdicts of venomous vultures,
surmising hues of
ink to pierce through
pores of this bleeding pen,
imagining rainbows
will unravel colors,
in violent violets and
intricate indigo streaks,
refusing to walk around
streets with
hailing stones of storms.
But what if the skies
unfold mysteries of yesterday,
would tales of truth need
translated transcripts?
oblivious to the weight
of every thorn I sustain
within these words I weave.
Whilst daggers
on my spine
still remain rusted with
runes of revelations,
as I’ve felt claws sharper
than twisted tongues,
so those feculent fingers
pointing at abstracts
across fields of
fruitful flowers,
adorned with
smokey quartz
jewels of life,
is nothing but
mere artless blades,
that burn bridges
from blunt blindness.
Let the bare brokenness
of your rags be
the conqueror of your
own demise,
I’ve seen too many
ghosts turn into
steel hearted devils with
tasteless plans.
Yet these cracks
won’t grow wider
from misconstrued
conclusions,
from barely noticeable
turbulence within a
psychological warfare.
I am more than your
definition of sharpened
needles and knives,
as I’ve been nurtured
in fearless forests with
herds of faceless wolves,
this warrior spirit
is unmovable,
by a million mountains
engraved with
lifeless blood and
bones of your kind,
so take your little
quilt of cowardly questions,
wrap them around your
fragile little ego,
perhaps, sleep too
can reveal
rosier dreams
in your doomed
nights filled with terrors,
for I refuse to
drink from chalices
of emptiness
concocted from
bitter ingredients.
For the Haven’s advancement,
the Elite may extend a courteous backhand,
or a fist wrapped with opinion
that some may mistake for abuse.
Dante’s girl fell from her steeple
head first into a cauldron of pride,
now her feeble corpse twitches
trying to vomit the blackest pitch grey.
Stains her soldier’s dress blues
duty has him answer the bench’s call.
Gaveled verdicts now deleted,
appeals one site’s ambitions.
Often found in a library,
their little boy plays with
his toy box full of straw men
and overused emoticons.
Each breath billows the forge,
black smoke void of The Father,
they beat a gift’s beauty into a weapon,
the cutting edge of the Deceiver’s con.
He's without a cellmate
There's no guard with a gun
He's been here for years
But sentenced to none
To this place without bars
No windows or cells
May not sound bad to you
But to him it was hell
This walk away prison
Where he goes every night
They'll give him last call
But should read him his rights
Cause he's lost all emotion
If the truth be told
Washed them away
With liquors of gold
As he sits on his stool
Instead of a bunk
All the people in town
Call him a drunk
This walk away prison
Where he goes every night
They'll give him last call
But should read him his rights
Now he's on death row
Not a friend all around
Except for the one
That he couldn't put down
Though the plea wasn't guilty
And the verdicts not in
He can't appeal
For all his sins
This walk away prison
Where he came every night
They gave him last call
And read him his rights
Maybe what’s good is not my saying
But what I said is not bad
I can write; I can do
I can confess; I can avoid
What I ignore is not for my ignorance
What I cannot learn is not for illiteracy
Life is the name of struggle on the earth
But death is what I need to be learned!
I do not know what I do not believe
I do not know where I do not reside
I do not know what I did not still learn
But if I believed, resided, learned I knew all!
Of new and continuous new
I need to learn before judgments
Of old and oldest ancient
I need to swap myself to the point before verdicts
In front of learning
Judgments and verdicts are invalid discussion
Political, social, economic, religion, caste and racial power
All are not the power of knowledge!
Continuous learning is knowledge
And knowledge that has been implemented is wisdom
In the practical life people know best
What is good and what is bad
But regarding the practice of beliefs, nations, countries
I need to continuous learning
Just learn, learn constant and let me learn
Before making you the subject of fun
© Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
02/11/2022
Written: August 14, 2025
************
River answers cloud with shimmer, and cloud
with a hush that folds into silver—
a breath that rises through its forgetting,
still and wild, akin to an unspoken name.
Between echo and echo, intellection
unbuttons its syntax,
and the ancient self thins.
into filaments of looking.
Now the wind tunnels through the reeds,
Now dusk unthreads the horizon.
Stones lean inward. Five crows
arrive as verdicts in the birch canopy.
Owls blink—eyes such a rusted lanterns—
and twilight drips from their wings.
The empty skiff moves back and forth.
It's a low hum in the current.
a resonance that deepens
until it chimes with absence.
When it docks, the message it carries
is an apology, folded in dusk.
And so, as a glint of practiced grace,
The day’s last gold recedes.
in the hills behind our silence.
What I wish from you tonight
is not comfort, but a touch
that remembers the storm.
I wish your breath to lift my name.
same as ash from the altar—
to feel, when your fingers trace
the fault lines in my chest,
our empire of longing
crumble into wilderness.
Above us, the planets slip.
as secrets across the dark,
and the stars, pale and multiplying,
defy the night with their stillness—
defining its scrap
by refusing to move.
It's ugly out here and getting worse
The winters wind blows cruel harshness upon on our own humanity,
scarring with images the brutality of our most innocent
The degradation of ourselves,
by ourselves.
Righteously wrapped in the shadowy shroud of God,
The harshest of the verdicts,
handed down,
administered as only we can,
as only we understand.
What is one more,
Black life,
Muslin life,
Jewish or
Christian's Life?
What is one more.
Beaten
women,
child,
drug addict?
When does spring bloom on this winter?
When will humanity shine its light,
its hope,
its future
In each other?
When will it be time to say
It is enough!
Becoming a slave to my own paradise,
Becoming clingy to my own disregarded appetites,
Becoming a prisoner of my own created prison,
Becoming lonesome in my own crowd.
Recognising something lethal,
Pouring out something eternal,
Bearing some dirt of civilisation,
Tearing apart the burden of my own existence.
I've created my own traps,
Living forever in my own satire.
No appeal on the docket today;
I crave the unseens.
When the sins are unseen,
What verdicts can there be?
When the prisoner is the judge,
Is he called a metaphor of his own book?
So I've hold my head up high—
Hiding hatred that burns inside.
Perhaps this is not the last;
Perhaps this is an endless circle.
Verdicts
Edicts
Effects
Judgement
Assessment
Rulings
Findings
Outcomes
Decrees
Resolutions
Conclusions
Determinations
Evaluations
**A DEDICATION TO
MY FUTURE, TRUE LOVE.**
A moment of bliss
For you and i,
A moment so real
I feel it will never end.
The sound of our kisses
The promises
Of our future,
The absence of heart
Break torture,
The words of our eye
balls
The verdicts of our
hearts...
Builds our walls of bliss.
A moment of bliss
For you and i,
A moment of laughter,
Laughter to last longer,
Prolonging our affair that
Is sealed above.
A moment of bliss.
For you and i,
When you read those
verses,
Slowly and mildly,
Piecing through my soul,
Like mothers words...
A moment of bliss,
For you and i,
A moment so sweet like
cherries
And candies.
A moment so smooth
like
The surface of your lips...
Leaving me in a trance,
When i recover,
We will continue from
where
We stopped...
Savoring the bliss for
you and i...
"WHEN
SHE COMES IN, IT WILL BE
ALL BLISS"
As soon as Odey arrived,
The villagers greeted in roar
Like the verdicts of Lions.
He was lifted high and
Gongs gave their salutations,
For Odey, the great salt
Discoverer has arrived.
Wrestlers pay allegiance
By displaying black skills,
He walked shoulder high
And his praises were lifted high.
Women swung their backyards,
Making the men's mouth water,
For the great hunter has arrived.
Jubilation is sure, all anger cured.
Gun powder entered the air to
Inform the sky of the black discoverer,
The seed of Yala*.
Children orchestrating black rhythm
And rhyme, happy to see the salts.
Welcome Odey, welcome black hero,
For thou art a true meaning of an African sunset....
===========================
Yala* is my mother's tribal dialect.
The twelve were coming in …,
twelve like gods, with sealed fates.
Mortals with keys to death and dungeons of hell,
where devils walked in numbers, and are owned;
they are someone’s belongings. I could not see me.
That place is it where there is blood without formed elements …
or nutrients. Colors became significant (blue and red).
We know of the black and white barriers;
the ones we pretend do not breathe in Washington.
Brothers and a nation are built behind steel bars.
The thought of that woman,
the woman that stands bold
with torch beckoning to come and taste the dream,
is like a haunted house, and I, a little child of three.
How she defends self-government
while she’s trapped at sea. Freedom is a long way …
Liberty is far-flung,
but I must not lose what is left of free will.
When the verdicts are festooned,
they ought to downgrade the others;
there should be no rivalry.
Without such it is simple to mislead the bulk.
I am my better half;
I come clean without boasting on my tongue.
I often wondered if Hilary plagues …
because she believes she has a better hand,
or is there absolute amnesty.
This thought I contemplate to summon sleep
instead of counting sheep.
The guy who swings the three iron, I often think of his wife;
how her shoes were on to run. Was it hurt are shame?
Love is far too shallow to be called love.
I shall kill her,
and set her in the depth,
where she will be eaten by her conscience;
sometimes I questioned if there’s one.
Maybe one is near, but suppressed.
I must kill her
with this ball-point that poured out the contents
of a lamenting soul; she must go before she is far gone.
Is the law a crooked device,
a mean provided for some to get even?
Who suffers when she cried wolf?
Hell is the amount of her condescension.
She has to die, to live anew,
and to allow the halves to live.
Whenever I drown in the river of tears,
You have always been there to overcome all my fears;
Your guidance has every time thrown light in the path of darkness,
The beatings given by you resisted me to do any further menace;
Hats off to your effort to handle a child like me,
Without a father,find every pinch of time free;
I miss you every time whenever alone in streets,
Imagining to walk through the gates of joy matching with your feet;
Why should I wish for any gift on my birthdays?
When the Almighty has given me the best person who resides in my instincts everyday;
Your concern for me is never hidden from any side,
My love for you would lasts till my last drop of blood flow in the tide;
Your deteriorating health scares my mind,
To see you improvise is one of my first priority to find;
Your devotion to work always touched my heart,
Always set a target to get lead over you by putting a benchmark,
You are the home of blessings,
Wish I could have inherited some of your belongings;
My whatever achievements is owed to you,
The smile on your face eradicates all my worries whichever I pursue;
The Sun's glaze can never stand against your will,
Your diplomatic talks can outweigh the silence of moonlight to set peace with evil;
My unsung desires never required any words to express it to you,
I don't know how these things transmitted to your mind with every instant flew;
The wake up calls always angered me in the past,
The reason behind it never came to idiot boy such fast;
Whenever I am in need of father,
Your dual role enabled nothing to bother;
The verdicts of your acts influenced my ambition a lot,
Getting you as coach trained me to have course of victory with each defeat block;
At this phase of my life I can't afford to give you a gift,
May God give us every moment to remember something which would be sweet;
On the most special day of your life I won't sense my presence,
The biggest grudge I would ever have which will taunt it's essence;
Thanks for everything you gave all these years,
Mummy,you are the most loving person among my beloved dears.
DEVIL AMONG US or just MANY FACES
Hebrew described Satan as adversary,
Not a sole individual that you should worry.
But they walk among us.
They talk among us.
Never noticed? I doubt it;
As they drop their despicable bomb among us.
Never faced one? It’s skeptical,
Check out the mirror; they born among us.
In our era, it's people with many faces preying on disgust.
Let you out to dry scathe or rust.
A face that you thought you can trust upon,
Turned out to be loathsome with a prosaic face on.
Nowadays Satan suits up to a comic character.
You don't know what cynicism you come across at the end of your vector.
Nocuous it is, being credulous on your side,
don’t trust me? Try yourself as long as you can abide.
So what to do? Just wondering never resolves,
A face to develop a character to evolve.
Make your heart an invincible fortress,
Bearing plushy reflection, discreet your clouds of distress.
And every time the verdicts on you;
With a grin on face see if it comply, else eschew.
Just like everyone else around in demise,
Go on conceal your face, not even devil can recognize.
- Prateek Shukla