Monday, February 1, 2021





4 O’clock Flower


I am 4’CLOCK flower,

The secret of Lover’s desire.

I open myself at dusk,

My strong fragrance flies,

Throughout the night,

Like the lover’s lust.

I close myself at the sight of the sun,

Signaling secret lovers, “Run”.


Note: This poem is written on the characteristics of the 4 ‘O Clock flower.

Commentary: The 4’O clock usually blooms in the late afternoon and it’s strong smell is felt throughout the night. The flower fades away before and in between dawn. Here I have personified the flower as a guardian of all secret lovers who secretly meet at night and cherish each other’s love and lust. Just before Sun rising the Flower closes it’s petals thus signalling the secret lovers to go back to their place. This is a simple poem. I have used personification, strong smell(metaphor) as desire and lust. Sun as the obstacle between the secret meeting of lovers. Because in day light they can’t meet.



The Nameless Nymph And The Queen Of Flowers


I am the Queen of flowers.

Once I was a nameless nymph.

Goddess Flora found me lifeless in the forest.

She wondered who is this forsaken poor dead nymph.

She took pity on me.

She called upon Aphrodite, the goddess of love.

Then Flora called Dionysus, the God of wine.

Then Flora whispered in my ear.

And I became a flower.

Goddess of love gave me the beauty as her gift.

The God of wine added the nectar to give me a sweet fragrance.

Then Flora summoned Zephyrus, the God of the West wind.

Zephyrus, blew away the clouds.

Apollo, the Sun God shined upon me to bloom.

And I became alive.

I was a nameless nymph.

Dead, forsaken.

Even I can’t remember my past.

I am the Rose now.

Even now, I don’t need a name.

My beauty surpasses all the beauties of the flowers.

My fragrance is mesmerising.

I am a symbol of beauty and love.

The Famous Bard made me immoral by saying,

“What’s in a Name? That which we call a rose by any other name

Would smell as sweet.”

From a nameless nymph to the Queen of flowers,

Even now, I don’t need a name.


Note: The poem is based on one of the Greek myths of rose.

Commentary: The poem is written in dramatic monologue style. It is an experimental work.





Achilles, the hero treated his soldiers with me.

When the Trojan war went on,

I helped numberless soldiers, bleeding from wounds.

I stopped their bleeding.

Alas! No one remembers my name.

People forget,

In the past, I was placed under the pillows

To make their dreams to matters of love.

Alas! All is gone now.

Achilles bravery lives on.

I am the forgotten part of Achillea story.

Men no longer remember how I made their dreams

Pleasant and joyful.

How I turned their nightmares into dreams of love.

Achilles glory still lives on.

I am the perishing part of Achilles ‘s story.

Yet, I bloom.

With the memories of days gone.


Note: The poem is written on the Greek mythology of the Achillea flower.

Commentary: The poem is written in both soliloquy and dramatic monologue style. It is an experimental work.




TABASSUM TAHMINA SHAGUFTA Hussein is an aesthete from Dhaka, Bangladesh & MA holder in British &American Literature. Now a Free-lance writer, she is a Contributor for Different Truths Publications, India, featuring humanitarian to diverse issues. She is the weekly Translator for, Point Edition, ITHACA Foundation, Spain.  Her debut was as a poet in the Our Poetry Archive 's Spiritual Poetry Beyond Borders Anthology, 2018.She has contributed to other news portals. She has contributed to London School of Economics Human Rights Blog as well.  Her poems also appeared in several literary magazines. She has contributed to five Anthologies so far. She loves travelling and participates in recitations. She seeks beauty from the blade of grass to twinkling stars.  Aestheticism and humanism are the essences of her existence. She is the International Fellow 2020 of International Human Rights Arts Festival.

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