Incomplete are the thoughts of my head like this
Can't say but can't express like this
Dots connect to make some pattern
Am I too naive to make it exist like this
Maybe they mean something to me
Or maybe I felt like this
How did people of my life
Became dots to connect like this
With the meaning of punctuation to show things end
When did these dots connect to make a string like this
I assume it all to be falsely mistaken
Never thought I would make a pattern asymmetrical like this
I sometimes try to bring the dots close to see constellations
They stand so far for the moon's light to shimmer like this
Looking Back
As we all head towards the inevitable truth of our nature
We often show little gratitude towards the past
We often hold on to the material luxuries of the present so firmly
Forgetting that it is the memories that will last.
Whenever we look back, hardly do we remember what we had bought
What we had gifted, or what we had sought
For our minds are aware of how worthless they really are
It is the love, the compassion and the admiration
That made every gift special enough to remember.
Nostalgia has its own superpower
It cheers the weary, and eases the stressed
Gives the lost a chance to change,
It underlines the past, bringing its worth to light
And lets us park the cars of our fast-paced lives momentarily in its garage.
- Soouptik Ghosh
By Phan Tan Hai
I sit reading a page of history—
the lines leaning, trembling with sorrow;
my eyes sting as I trace each word,
cold smoke rising into my soul.
I clearly see the names of friends
who died and now appear again,
demanding to charge once more with words—
a battle of humans or ghosts.
I see countless question marks
weighing heavily on every page;
a time as sad as smoke
staining the paper yellow-brown.
A time that feels so distant,
yet still chokes me as I read;
my homeland fills my eyes,
ink blurred but never fading.
Head bowed, I walked for ages—
my hair once so green;
as though a hundred lives have passed,
I look back and it is white.
I carefully record each word,
renewing the lines of poetry;
casting a hundred thousand words
to bloom as flowers on the far shore.
A glance. A glance that speaks time.
A glance that knows histories—where, how, and why.
A shiver. A shiver down the spine.
It won’t still for reason. It won’t still for lies.
A choice. A choice of the mind.
The balance seems level—composed, almost fine.
But look deeper and you’ll find:
the scales tipped long before you called it time.
The shoulders—curving out from the spine.
This pressure they carry is unnatural, not right.
The nighttime.
When silence lets the ghosts arrive.
Wine, whisky, cognac—
they soften the edges,
but never make the past die.
"You gotta have a puppy!"
Don't even need a guppy!"
Don't want a doggy surprise,
Gazing at such soulful eyes,
"Looking back at ya, puppy!"
Surprising how quickly fate turns its back.
You had it all and squandered it.
Regrets won't bring it back.
Should have fought for everything you had.
Instead you just let it slip away.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Looking back
from the heart
heals our past
“The future is there... looking back at us.” - William Gibson
Pointing its ugly finger too... get on the bus, all of you.
Be here now because tomorrow never came.
Prepared for the worst, just the same.
Today is all we got, so make it the best...
Maybe we can change the future yet.
The past is always there... for it is why we’re here.
Seeing if there’s hope. Wondering if we care.
Looking for some answers... find them there, if you dare.
But don’t get lost, don’t be afraid
Even knowledge comes with a cost.
We must be brave and stand up tall
Even when the bombshell falls. So,
Enjoy every peace that you can chance
For anything can happen by happenstance.
Bittersweet reminiscings buried in sand
Summer beaches of my youth long gone
~ new memories in the forecast
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
I was a silly fool
I fell for your charm and chivalry
~ little crumbs here and there
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2025
I don't know any happy
super rich people -- a
friend of wealth once
told me: "See all this,
a huge property and
home, dripping gold
gilt, "I have nothing...."
I thought, myself spared
leaving, as I gave my vehicle
the usual primer finessing of
the gas pedal, before it would
prayerfully start --
Of course, having spent much
of my life with those suffering, I
have dried many an impoverished
tear, and know no joyful hungered
belly --
I often conclude, the best of my
blessings found somewhere between
two hells -- bellow the peak of
Supreme Religious Zealots, just above
The Valley of Heretics -- best years
recalled, are middle-age....
God's grace and love independent
of experience or knowledge --
Having abundance is opportunity
to better the lives of less fortunate
others....
P r o c r a s t i n a t i o n
Seems doggedly determined
To anchor me to today;
Tells me to set sail tomorrow,
But I'm already on the ship.
She tightly tugs at my sleeve
Trying to trick yours truly
Into stopping to sniff her rose,
Into turning turtle mid-sea,
All for naught; now she asks...
"Why not wait out the weekend?"
Ha! I'm afraid it's too late for that.
I've reached a point of no return,
Propelled by powerful currents;
There's no looking back, baby!
Have to look back
Have change a lot
Over the years.
Looking back, I’m ashamed of what I was,
A mirror shows the choices I regret.
In shadows of the past, I see my flaws,
Yet wisdom’s light has guided me, I bet.
I wandered lost, each step a trial’s cost,
With every wrong turn, pain would carve its mark.
Yet from the struggle, lessons were embossed,
And in each failure, hope would leave a spark.
I’ve changed with time, though flaws remain with me,
The heart that seeks redemption finds its way.
Through doubt and darkness, God’s light sets me free,
A brighter path emerges from the gray.
Each high and low, a wave that comes and goes,
But morning’s light brings clarity and calm.
I see the man I’ve become, and I know,
In every flaw, there’s a chance to transform.
So here I stand, the past both near and dear,
I’ve faced my truth and learned to hold it close.
In every scar, a lesson clear and clear,
And in my flaws, a story to propose.
Home
Songs
Love and nature
92
Period of composition (Bangla): Nineteenth Vadra, 1346
Period of composition (After Christ) September 5, 1939
Place of composition: Shantiniketan
Again and again, looking back to thee, once more,
Days and nights these foamy churns awakened, in parables, mind approached out there, rested on armrest
The verses and the divine bell, awakened on the festive zeal, with the foamy quest on a tempest
The raga-based vibes, orbiting around the tides, ecstatic zeal
From the deepest a sound diphthong, to eloquent most trochaic meandering trail, a hymn
Bhoirobi the three with the sixth, the festive fair of Ramkeli mela, Purvi, armrest, strumming along the whim
Along the foamy tempest through the golden jubilee, joyous, eloquence in ragas through vibes resides in a song, songs among
Floating through the trail of thine, intertwined mine, meandering we
Songs among these will begin a journey to nowhere, in bliss
Trochaic, greenery, forestry, serene, motherland, a yesterday belongs, in tap dance
Along the way the must and the bohemian wind and unbridled they
Tap and tap on and tuned in, around a finely attuned may.
6:13 PM
8-28-2024
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