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Literature
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READERS' POEMS
They keep coming--mainly by post-- to 19 Kawran Bazar, falling like autumn leaves on my desk, poems from our readers.
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Tanguar Haor*
A moonlit night in autumn
She beacons me in her abode
With the dancing of waves, melody and songsThe silver-fish girl.
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Sleep My Sweet Laxmi
Mom why are you so late?
I feel bored locked insideMom why do you look sick?
You know I had a dream.
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My Expected Day
Just that day,
On straightening up
Under the shadiness of the evergreen creeper
You put into words,
Within the reach of your opening,
To turn up tomorrow.
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To Float The Boat Again
The river seems so small now
Still I can't cross it. For long,
Longing and watching from the bank
So many are crossing, lean and
Thin, poor and rich, so many so many.
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Only And Only Because
i love u
not only because
u have introduced me to this WORLD
i respect u
not only because
u have taught me to say
'excuse me’
before interrupting people
i honor u
not only because
u
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Do Not Follow The Leaders
Do not follow the leaders
They take no prisoners
They have no conscience
They have no truth
They work not for common good
Their parties are prisons
Their words are lies
They are not
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Earthquake
What and how is the world's go
Does it go down or upward grow?
It's not stable trembling always
To stand still there is no place
Now all the world is on quake
And none is there who cancheck
What
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Fiery Flesh
I will knock at you door at four-thirty in the afternoon
Broken sunbeams will touch the balcony;
one or two sparrows will fly
Curtains of the window will oscillate in Chaitra winds
Weaving
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Land of the Free
Little blue pills for
my mother
Little red pills formy father
And all kinds of other pills
for me and my sister
America land of the free
One happy drug store
Its shelves groaning
with
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Morning Rain
i know it in my sleep
the slow drip drip--
in the still pool
of the commode
by the window
flecks float
over a sooty sky
the grimy flannel of
an February morning--
schoolchildren
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Defining Old Age
Old age is poised for death
It is the reminiscence of the past
Old age is hankering for the
past glory
It is the reflection of the magnificent youth.
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Heaving A Deep Sigh
Each life has its own sorrows
Mine one is a withered bloom
Each life has its memories
Thine one is chasing butterflies
Each life has its joys
Mine one is swimming in the river
Everyone
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Humanity
Humanity is
A meaningless pause
For humanitarian
Society.
Nuclear weapons
Brick-and-steel
Skyscrapers is today's
Humanity.
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A Cruel Laughter
The blade of grass fails to hold
Tottering dew-drops, morning's gold.
It is a tailored tale, hoary old
Mutability is the lot of the mould.
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Unknown Feelings
Not more but less years have passed
I'm not in same mood passing ups and downs of life
Several times chat with unknown feelings of closed dark room
Or the sound of roaming snake of mythologyin
imagination
But
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