Short Ungovernable Poems

Know, I know
Nothing is what I write

I know better
I don't know anything about what I write

But, this illiterate ungovernable feeling will decay
If I write nothing

Everything I have will die, I will die
Whatever I write, if I stop it

And, yes, so I write


Chattogram © Mahtab Bangalee...

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In the neighborhood, some conqueror born,
Another color blending with fawn:
On his forehead, a sitting half horn.
In the flesh of the rest, a thorn
But among them just brightly shone! 
All his moves of leniency shorn…
The others offering only the chances to mourn.
All these, after their True Champion was gone…
Nothing else Local Champions fully trust,
Their ungovernable hands  of iron, a must....

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Madonna swelling at the Kilmore, 
every girl a wisp of ungovernable smoke, 
and vomit on my shoes as they threw me 
out the door, addled and clueless as I was, 
and, forgive me, still am. 
I hit the tarmac like a warm can 
but you stood at the step 
and watched me breath, 
and would do it again. 
I was not swallowed by the dark 
completely. An addiction way past taming, 
you were a shocking case....

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What on earth made the teen 
Go ahead to create a scene
That should not have been seen:
That I watched and was lean;
Ungovernable feathers happily preen?
Only yesterday did Mum him wean; 
Who had nothing thought but his well being  
An off and on “Where have you been”
And to his mum “What do you mean”

Always for the dead tattered jean,
By expulsion angered and shooting their Dean;
Can’t this be the handiwork of peers, not gene?...

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