The Illusionist

This is for a friend/colleague who is into poetry himself. His name would mean Indrajaalik in Bengali and my poetry writing marathon lead me to write on somebody who would appreciate this as his birthday gift..

THE ILLUSSIONIST

How do I see him?
In darkness and daylight,
Two different people,
As ambiguous to one another,
As to me.

Is it Naiveté?
That forces him to cling and part,
From people and places,
Oblivious to their needs,
And mostly his own.

What do I see?
Standing at a distance looking in,
I see him smile,
His smile mirthful, thought provoking,
And a little haunting.

Does he see me?
It matters not to me ,
These games of knowing and not,
Continue over time,
Maybe they won't stop.

Shared from Google Keep.

A LOT MORE LOVED....

I Wrote this on 28th of September 2014. Mine and I are the flipsides of the same coin that complete one another.. Mine is made for greatness..meant for care and  loving devotion. Though mine can be insensitive towards mine..thereby hurting me.. Therefore the poem..because Mine is.... A LOT MORE LOVED!

A LOT MORE LOVED....

A lot more loved you are than you know..
Your warmth radiates n brightens up days.
Your smile touches more lives and renders significance everyday.
If only you could have the eyes to see..

A lot more loved you are than you than you know..
Your work ethic an example that teaches others to follow.
Your life story a graph designed from nadir to zenith.
If only you could have the eyes to see..

A lot more loved you are than you know..
Despite a blinding white rage that obliterates my existance.
Despite insensitive actions that suck the life out of me.
If only you could have the eyes to see..

A lot more loved you are than you know..
Your actions a contradiction I find hard to keep up with.
And despite everything good, bad, benevolent or malicious, I am always there.
If only you could have the eyes to see....