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Best Poems Written by Tamanna Ferdous

Below are the all-time best Tamanna Ferdous poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Wandering Why I Am Listing You - List

I knew a poet in you, a long, long time ago
You used to be naïve, still the truest, I know.

I recalled, we bought a stand-fan, an item not in the list
$30 was unaffordable, almost a luxury for us, in the gist.

I got gallbladder stones, lots of  math on surgery was on our note
We both were a student then. We were preparing to hit a long road.

You loved me when I am angry. You used to smile keeping your secret
Do you still do that now? Life is passing now at a fixed speed, targeted.  

I still linger for your touch; too idiotic to mention it so late!  And I had to know. 
You were always so simple! Simplicity was a  thing I longed for, could not grow.

You were too simple for a lavish moment to express  feelings, too lonely a soul
Wandering why I am listing you? I assure you,  it was never my intended goal.

You wanted me to open my eyes when we used to be intimate, I never could, so.
Forgotten life in closed eyes now, bleeds through a pen, saying,” Please! Let it go!”

I am looking at a poem now, a gift I wrote, so happy to finish my masterpiece!
Heard the news of the death of a reader today! So, left it there! Yours are all this!

7-25-2019
Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 - List 
Dear Heart

Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2019



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Reason and Hint

I was feeling restless and empty
And I was feeling low.
All I believed was a white paper
An ordinary pen did do.

I wanted to put a question, there
To ask first - who are you?
Fathomless emotions, eager to converse
Should I assess -are you true?

I know there is much research
Hypothetical truth; hot and valid
Seeking the inner child, facing a challenge
Asking for yourself - true and candid.

I could never hold a dead body
And, I could never treat, I would say.
Too pampered a soul inside me
Life doesn’t often happen as I may.

All I wanted to see a rose petal
swirling alone in the heavy wind.
A visitor of the grace of the time
A witness of the reason and hint.

Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2019

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My River

I have a river    of my own,
                  A river, flowing 
                        Naturally.
               I see her   in waves,	
                          On her
                     Meandering trails,
                          Lonely.
          ‘River training’
             Is a term I heard 
                   From a very
          Early age,
A father, engineer, 
              Left an imprint 
                 On my 
                 Coloring page.
His office talks often 
               Engaged terms 
Like ‘embankment.’
Rhymes better, 
Feels proper, 
                Along a way 
                     Of atonement.
                             I was awfully apt 
                  To color my river,
            In times of my leisure.
         It was always near 
      My house, my fun-walk, 
With pleasure.
I fancy now, 
I had a boat and 
Knew to manage 
That boat of mine.
Shed tears to lose 
Inside my dreams. 
And often dreams still shine.

Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2019

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Tiny Little Palm

He kissed me back
in his dream
with a sky
melting in his tiny little palm.

7-28-2019

Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2019

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Supplication

I was remembering a supplication
Of praising the supreme
Of asking strength to distance me
Further from the sin
Like the distance between sunrise and sunset.

I was remembering a supplication
Of a serene mind
Free of anxiety and depression
Free from stress and pain
Like the distance between heaven and hell

I was not sure, I only saw a shadow
A shadow like my mother, I thought.
I still am not sure.

Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2019



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A Piece of My Sky

I never want to stay away from looking at your eyes
A strong feeling that I left a piece of my sky, there.
It has a vast moment of floating clouds passing by 
Golden rays of the glowing sun gently touch prayer.

I never want to miss from looking at your sleeping face
Daylong hyper, so silent my buddy now! Forever will love!
Kissed you in your dreams only to feel your baby smell
Feels like yesterday, so cordial a moment, o little dove!

Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2019

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The Last Poem, Translation of a Composition of Rabindranath Tagore

Have you heard the symphony, the voyage of an eternal time?

Its Chariot is the swiftest one, gone soon, gone long

Beating hearts touch the innermost mind

Darkness. wrapped in encircled mourning, befallen with the fallen, starlight.

O My Friend !

That nomadic time, a traveler one

Engulfed me again, with her embracing vest of time

Took me to her gypsy churn,

A quest toward an intrepid one.

Farther and farther away from yours.

It seems only in mind, that I escaped death

Happening in a thousand more times.

Today, the new dawn with the mountain-peak

Where , the chariot left a trace of agitated wind blower speed

With my older name.

There is no turning back

If you ponder from a distance, looking back

you will not find me as one you knew too close.

I bid you farewell, My friend!

Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2022

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Chasm of My Land of Birth

Eloquent and festive in harvest crops,  
Plethora of blossoming may,  
O our adored land! 
Immaculate in dreams of tomorrow,  
Nostalgic of fragrances of yesterday. 
A land, in vision, never second to none, 
O, my beloved motherland, beloved of mine. 
Amongst the moon, the sun and the planet and the stars 
a running brook of so many enchanting words,  
nowhere to be found. 
Lightening in clouds, black and sweaty, as they are 
wake up with chirping birds, lull to sleep with similar croon 
Rivers murmuring with such a bliss,  
And mountain top, with wanderer clouds lost in a kiss,   
Where the emerald green of forest land surmises the gazing sky 
Gust of wind along the spontaneous swaying field,  
none knows where to be to witness again. 
Branches burdened with blooms of floras, 
Birds, hopping and chirping along the leaves lushing in green. 
Humming bees, flocking in muse 
They, tame the churn on flowers, honeys of a waving season 
Gentleness together fused along,  
bonded in a brother keeper motherland,  
never a loser, never compromised 
O my beloved,  
I caress thy holy feet on my bare chest, 
Us within a story 
Chasm of my land of birth, I beseech my death in thy glory.

Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2023

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A Letter From a Lover

"It was heard
They took him to the morgue.
Last night in the February dark
When the crescent moon, five days toward full, had set
He'd had the urge to die."

In the artistic creation of poetry, there is a strong occupation of chaotic madness. The creator of the world gave His one particle of love in the creation. With this,  we love this crazy life, love art, poetry, music, the immortal invincible love story. Nothing stops for anyone in the world, just as it is true, man saves people, in this world of joy, in pure love,  it is also a constant truth.

There is an undertone language of silence. Don't touch the silence too much, as this silence is nothing but eloquent. Before the shadows merge into the pitch darkness, the eternal being asked himself, "Is the life that carries me, really me?”  I, who loves to see the colors of the sunset on the water, am I the one whose calm cold voice chooses the emotion, determines the tribe of truth and falsehood?  How helpless are people to reality? Or does the reality go hand in hand with the interpretation of the personal truth of humans?

You were telling me that there is no sin in love.  Love is as free as the sky. There is no blackness in it as it is as pure as nature. I did not speak.  I was silently listening to you.  I am your former love, I do not have the key to your present. 

But I have never seen you lie. 

You and I used to love to listen to the sound of the rain on a tin-shed roof in a remote village. 

And the same us now, calculate the days and months of our children to stay with each other so that the breakdown of our past relationship does not touch them so much. 

I am also learning it slowly, there is no end to learning in the world!

I couldn't ask you a question but a thousand questions were coming in my mind. Does our past overshadow our present? The present is also making the truth of its own rules, isn’t it? if the present is patched up there due to a past,  is there no responsibility for it?

Sometimes I wake up at night for no specific reason. The need to find the definition of life by cherishing the reality for so long, that need for the time is gone. The power to walk anew is still to be found in this life, in the utterance of every word of the poem, in the smell of the poetic body, in the poetic taste.

That's where I am, and that’s where you are, and that’s where the joyful early childhood days of our children.  And with it, resides an existence of an infallible poem. I don't want to understand whether it is a blessing or a curse. 

May the benevolent God give you peace, keep you full of love in your present, and make you a proper reformer of the past. 

I will go on to comprehend the meaning of that poem.
The greater truth than that I have nothing else!

"I know, yet I know,
A woman's heart—love—a child—a home—these are not everything,
Not wealth nor fame nor creature comforts—
There is some other perilous wonder
Which frolics
In our very blood.
It exhausts us—
Fatigues, exhausts us.
That exhaustion is not present
In the morgue.
And so
In that morgue
Flat out he lies upon a table."

Note : A Day Eight Years Ago by Jibananda Das , Translated by Clinton B. Seely.

Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2021

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Geetanjali Song 12: Translation

Note: A translation of Tagore's Geetanjali song 12. Influence came from a music of Olafur Arnalds. 

Geetanjali song 12: Translation
Tamanna Ferdous

My journey started in an ancient time 
The quest along a longest route, 
When I first began the journey 
My chariot along the voyage for the first light. 

Planets and Stars carved a meandering trail 
As my journey shaped its own time 
Shaped the quest for time in the eternity 
Within the forests and the mountains. 

To be within love of all, ever flowing 
With the remotest seclusion 
Is the hardest meditation of all 
With the simplest contemplation. 

The traveler wanders through the doors in unknown 
and returns to the very own land 
The voyage of unknown merges 
With the temple of the innermost mind. 

Here are you! This very word 
had to do a say in me 
Where I gazed in every way 
And along every way to be. 

It filled my world in a million flows 
You are! And they exclaimed, 
Where are you? As, the cry 
then , melted into teardrops in pain.

Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2022

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Book: Reflection on the Important Things