Poems
The rose of vase
The rose of a vase,
flower-basket of rules.
I’m blessed to observe your shadowy quiver on the wall.
Nevertheless, I could boast that I owe a rose in the house.
I keep it up on the table meticulously,
To save it from the incursion of my little one.
Whether I understand the rose or not,
I know the pain.
I perceive the pain,
When a rose sheds its petals.
June ’22
I wanted to be a painter
I wanted to be a painter,
Fell asleep while holding a paintbrush.
When the morning broke,
I realized it was too late to start.
The young girls stole my dream.
June ’22
The heart got blocked
The heart got blocked while putting the oil into the truth.
All got lost, yet hanging as a beef leg in the market shop,
For the sake of truth. While beef gets sold at $ 99 per KG.
June ’22
If only
If only I lay in my dream,
the guitar keeps playing its inner strumming.
The paintbrush sprinkles throughout the night,
listening to the silent humming.
The pride and prejudice get vapored
while I stay content with the low,
love and trouble caws.
June 22
Originated from the pacific
Originated from the pacific,
the man dwells across Padma, Meghna.
He Tunes the melody instinct with passion
and spreads the lyrics.
Then one day,
he gets lost in the rainforest,
like an unknown preacher.
One day the sorrow emerges,
the misery of colonialism,
and then everything gets fragmented
in the motherland, compatriot.
Nowadays, he survives
inside an odd concrete jungle
surrounded by the withered river.
The sorrow recurred upstream,
and now it’s global warming.
The seagulls are extinct
alone with the deltas.
And still, he keeps writing
and forgetting the misery
while giving them indigenous tunes.
June ’22
The Circadian Rhythm
The friendship gets crumbled
inside the bizarre chemical reaction of the brain.
Moral intelligence is declining
while the body’s intelligence declines.
Hence, I keep coloring the dream I owe,
lest the pandemic that spawned from my friends
couldn’t scratch my periphery.
June ’22
A newly coronated king
Out of a dampened darken alley
I got myself as a king.
A king who keeps thinking about music,
And vaporing on about the wisdom
Sep ’22
Enmity and generosity
I perceive the world as I see the paintings with delicacy.
Here I stop with my aged striving and I know,
many can’t tolerate my presence
even my smell that penetrates the air.
Thus I hang my smiling self-portrait on the doorstep
so that it intrigues my enemies to laugh out loud.
Hence they keep whispering to each other,
and saying ‘how generous this disgusting guy is.’
June ’22
Even Buddha got blamed
Buddha got blamed by the mob,
The man who remained silent
Throughout life.
The social strife still keeps hurting
while we form the anguish
And newly found grief.
The sadness could evaporate
If we follow the rules
of Lord Buddha,
The mourning could get vanished,
The vengeance, retaliation
Could get etherized.
Jan ’23
The subtle world
The subtle world still seems more pristine
than the paradigm of the human predicament.
The tangible velvet that gets sprouts from the core,
We know.
Dec ’22
An Amour
A sweetheart died a month before winter.
It was also when the news showed up at my door in the spring.
I came upon myself on the couch, holding your lost hand.
You can’t explain the illegal narrative,
so just keep quiet and accept the reality.
The paintings and the drab walls masked my destiny
toward dictatorship and love.
Mar ’23
Passing on many of your memories
Passing on many of your memories.
As you stand tall, much like a mountain range.
Oh, the one I love the most,
but I’m living with someone
who never pays attention to my heartbeat.
The irony casually floats around the edges.
As Zealandia forgets all of its woes, the azure sky shrieks.
Mar ’23
The reality
Once I forgot you.
Forget to stare at your eyes.
I’m sorry to hear that you forgot about me
and became apathetic toward me
Jul ’23
The flair of fugitive
The flair was secretly created by the eyeball of remembrance.
Those with sight could undoubtedly see it.
See how the enigmatic moon became entwined with the gloom in the sky.
But in any case, never open the window.
Apr ’23
Is this Mars or Earth
Is this Mars or Earth? A query that may arise,
Could our Earth, once a nurturing mother, meet such skies?
In this age of grandeur, where opulence abounds,
Who will be the first on Martian grounds?
Shall billionaires from our Earth’s dominion,
Seek refuge on a new world, void of Earth’s opinion?
After embracing Mars, will they leave our hearth,
Leaving behind a cozy Earth, now torn apart?
Sep ’23
I've lost countless things yet gain's, not small
“I’ve lost countless things,
Yet the gains, not small.
I shattered old shackles,
Through soliloquy’s call.
What’s concealed within,
In the depths of my mind,
Amidst melancholy’s dance,
And harmony entwined?
It’s clear to me now,
Not just cerebral, you see,
I’m a mindful bird in flight,
Vanquished OCD, I’m free.”
Sep ’23
Being a Bald
At times, I scorn myself so deep,
As I gaze into the glass so clear.
Five thousand years, Pharaoh’s hair does keep,
Yet, mine has vanished, I fear.
Sep ’23
In freedom's embrace
In freedom’s embrace, my spirit takes flight,
A mind as open as the boundless sky’s light.
I soar like a bird on winds so high,
And dance like a Sufi, twirling, oh so spry.
With each step, a journey through life’s narrow stream,
Freedom’s the compass, guiding each dream.
In the river’s gentle embrace, I find my way,
Prepared for adventure, come what may.
Freedom’s a jingling guitar, sweet and clear,
Its melody whispers in my ear, year by year.
Day and night, it strums its tune,
A symphony of life, beneath the silver moon.
As I walk, as I sit, and as I sleep,
Its notes, a treasure, in my heart,
I keep. I lay myself down on a bed of melodies so fine,
In freedom’s sweet embrace, forever, I recline.
Sep ’23
Shades of the Soul
My soul emerges in the sun’s embrace,
Or hides behind shadows, a mysterious trace.
I seek it in feelings, but oftentimes neglect,
In pursuit of riches, my soul’s true aspect.
In this world of wealth, who truly knows,
The essence of the soul, where it truly flows?
Many disguise as phantoms, yearning for skies,
Yet I found its colors when I turned my eyes.
Green, purple, blue, or colorless, it may be,
My soul’s spectrum unveiled, for all to see.
Amidst life’s symphony, it dances and thrives,
A kaleidoscope of emotions,
where the soul derives.
Sep ’23
The earth is still brimming
The Earth, it burns, with heat profound,
I sweat while lying on the ground.
Autumn sneaks in from afar,
Yet can’t bring scents from flower or star,
To comfort one so wretched here,
As the city’s flames draw ever near.
Sep ’23
Eternal Echoes in Cosmic memory
Whether I endure or fade away,
The poem shall forever stay.
Engraved upon a stone, it may be,
Transforming into a universe’s mystery.
In the madness of an uncharted galaxy’s flight,
When the stone is lost to endless night,
Even if devoured by a Black Hole’s spree,
The poem will persist in cosmic memory
Oct ’23
A Hut Ablaze with Poverty and bliss, where Equilibrium Reigns
In this world of ravenous desires, it stands,
A humble shack, devoid of excess, yet grand.
Do we require apartments, machines, and such,
When simpler lives can kindle light as much?
Embracing Stoicism’s tranquil embrace,
In solitude, we find our rightful place.
A life serene, though austere, it may seem,
In its quietude, we may discover our dream.
Oct ’23
I Feel Sorry
I feel sorry,
For a butterfly disguised as me.
The season keeps changing,
There will come a time to shed the old skin,
And it’s the sole elixir I owe.
Though the journey through transformation may sting,
The promise shall endure through noble deeds, I believe.
Oct ’23
We've been far apart for a long time
We’ve been far apart for a long time,
Yet I still venture with you throughout the past.
The words we exchanged, the moments we’ve passed,
Before our marriage took place, we were innocent souls,
But in marital life, I played the role of a traitor,
For I had yet to learn, we are not just our brains.
Time flows like we crossed the Atlantic on separate boats,
Yet our spirits never truly parted.
The question might arise, would you be present at my funeral?
The answer remains the same,
Yes, your spirit will guide me through the beautiful tides of time.
In the vast expanse of existence,
We journeyed through life’s ebb and flow,
Sometimes together, sometimes apart,
Yet our souls danced to the same eternal rhythm.
I may have faltered in my earthly understanding,
But in the realm of the heart and spirit,
Our connection remained unbroken,
A timeless bond that defied the constraints of mere mortality.
So, as I sail into the unknown horizon,
Know that your presence, though unseen,
Shall accompany me on this final voyage,
Guiding me through the mysteries of the afterlife’s sublime.
In death, as in life, we are entwined,
Two souls forever intertwined,
Bound by a love that transcends time,
In the symphony of eternity, our spirits shall forever chime.
Oct ’23
The Truth in the Mirror
The mirror, a clear pond’s embrace,
Reflects the truth in a silent grace.
Narcissus, captivated by his own visage,
Drowned in its allure, a saddening passage.
Oct ’23
The Pain I've Hidden
The pain I’ve kept inside,
Unspoken words reside,
In the center of that canvas of despair.
I’d be a king, you see,
If I’d set my feelings free,
But I’ve chosen to endure, to forbear.
So, I pass this pain along,
To the generations strong,
With silent witnesses who’ve seen my plight.
In the hope that they may find,
A way to heal, unbind,
The pain I’ve held, concealed, out of sight.
Oct ’23
Musing
Imagine, conjure a sweeter scenario,
A realm brimming with fantasy,
Where lands and trees drift in harmony,
Let us, too, meander the globe casually.
For we’re creators, bound by love’s decree,
And we cast aside the venomous, poison-free.
Oct ’23
Invisible World
After the awakening,
I experienced an invisible wall enveloping me,
Woven by the greedy spiders.
Wherever I roam,
Sticky spiderwebs entangle me.
And the argument emerges through silence,
Whose interests consume whom?
I know what they desire,
But where does the argument conclude?
That’s why I became lost in this invisible world.
Oct ’23
Arriving at school on swift feet
I arrived at school with eager steps,
Inhaling the joy of open air as I leapt.
I felt the classroom’s welcoming embrace,
Engrossing the lessons, at my own pace.
Each day held its unique array,
The knowledge blossoming in a hopeful way.
Yet, from eighth to tenth, a shadow cast,
A period where my health was far from fast.
With illness and trauma in my wake,
Apathy settled in, like a dormant ache.
But through it all, I kept my aim,
Rekindling the flame of learning’s vibrant flame.
Oct ’23
I have been dwelling with you for a decay,
But now it’s time to find a new way.
The cage and time have been barriers,
But I’ll break free and reach for the open sky.
As the sky questions time’s hold,
I’ll let my feather color the letters bold.
Though the inkpot dries and the paper withers,
I’ll find a way to express my love that lingers.
Yesterday, you soared away,
Thinking I don’t belong, you say.
Yet, here I am, crying frigid teardrops,
Longing for you, in this world that stops.
But now, it’s time to let go,
To embrace new beginnings, to grow.
For love can change and evolve,
And I will find a love that will absolve.”
May 27, 2024
If all the civilization remain through the millennia
If all the civilizations remain pristine through the millennia,
Marriage, a union of souls, would turn into a paradox instead.
The majestic pirate ships, upside down and wracked, would gaze at Orion,
As if the universe itself were spinning in ironic confusion.
The stinky aroma of Spaniard’s fragrance would fail to permeate America,
Leaving a void in cultural exchange and unforeseen disparity.
Marriage would become effortless, akin to the Zulu girl’s fleeting nighttime pursuits,
And the wise Padre and Mulla would retreat to a silent, ironic console.
June 20, 2024
I have been dwelling with you for a decay
I have been dwelling with you for a decay,
But now it’s time to find a new way.
The cage and time have been barriers,
But I’ll break free and reach for the open sky.
As the sky questions time’s hold,
I’ll let my feather color the letters bold.
Though the inkpot dries and the paper withers,
I’ll find a way to express my love that lingers.
Yesterday, you soared away,
Thinking I don’t belong, you say.
Yet, here I am, crying frigid teardrops,
Longing for you, in this world that stops.
But now, it’s time to let go,
To embrace new beginnings, to grow.
For love can change and evolve,
And I will find a love that will absolve.”
May 27, 2024
Let her awake from the slumber
let her awake from the slumber.
Perhaps, she’s dreaming of another world,
In another dimension.
Yet the dream animates her towards
An exoplanet.
Where life spreads from different view,
And no one can define what life over there.
Only we can see her sleeping bliss,
The bliss that blessed from the heaven.
Jul 29, 2024
Sunday was our childhood rhyme
Sunday was our childhood rhyme
When we get flocked around
The Grandma’s court.
We played, soiled our dresses
And refreshed by the
Granny’s taste.
On a sudden, the Friday
overtook the Sunday’s ray.
When we turned to teen
During that whimsical day.
Jul 29, 2024
A Hermit
a hermit
walks towards a lonely mountain
seeking for interactions
birds were converged into sky
like 1 2 3 5 8 13…………..
Jul 2013
Rain
O rain, all the windows are open now
as the curtain removed through the sunshine
only for you.
Come, come with your windy motion
and be washed my single room
with the yielding of muddy fields.
June 2013
In the mirror
The evening is falling as the horizon gets reddened.
Yet the minor clinging to the whirling of the little whirlpools.
Where the shadow of a little girl still swirling slowly.
May 25, 2020
The story behind the amazing image
I find the crows always lively.
Whether in reality or an art piece.
Assume that it would take off right now
by breaking the dimension of the painting.
Our famous painter Jainul once got so engrossed,
To paint out the crows of famine that bought fame for him.
But what we learned from that? being the creature
of a clime that’s considered to rudimentary and frenetic.
Did we realize how harmful we are, at least for other animals?
That’s why whenever we get stared at the portrait of a crow,
we find it so threatened that it could fly away any time as it gets close
to the human.
May 20, 2020
My dearest granny
My dearest granny,
conjuring up your face-
in the dark crimson light,
still haunting your footsteps-
walking throughout the corridor-
while I was groping to look out the trees and clusters-
from the blear window between the darkness and hidden shades-
dark midnight always shivered me- imagined a weird black hand-
still, spreads his arms to catch up what?
granny, once you had returned respectably in the room-
my heart got more prominent with the heavenly touch of your hand
and was saying, oh my grandson, here’s another story for you- – –
Apr 2014
Appetancy of city life
The bio grasses are just shooting up
underneath the agitated water of high tide.
The strays also swimming while they barely submerged.
I roll up my jeans and stride towards the highway where the city still alive.
Jul, 2017
Thirty-five years of memories
The mystery remains around my granny’s date of birth,
yet the gilded blouse and sari of her marriage day
still vivid in our memory.
How many times we sought those precious things,
throughout every nooks and corner of her old cabin,
blowing in the wind like her warm caress,
and swept her affectionate potato field away
throughout the enduring patio.
Yet the memory still drags me into the village,
only to get encountered with her graveyard.
Oh, 35 years have passed as the dry leaves keep falling apart
around her graveyard.
Aug 24, 2020
An eyewash civilization of organized faith
The mail train reached just before the dawn. The city was weeping for its old aborigins. Still, they keep out their invisible artworks across the walls, narrow streets and in the alleys. The smokes of the ancient cigars and weeds again boomerang even in this inevitable industrialization, which only drags the civilization onto the hopeless realm. A realm that secretly mingled with west and east. An eyewash civilization of organized faith! Organized looting and organized banditry!
Aug, 2018
Earth Poem
The planet, a collection of poems,
We, acting as a single letter.
But trees, they’re special,
Poems earth writes on the sky.
June 22, 2024
Bringing Warmth to My Soul
In a messy room, filled with books,
From ancient wisdom to modern science.
Silence surrounds, as imagination unfolds,
But colors hide, waiting to be revealed.
I pick up the brush, unlocking new dimensions,
Bringing warmth to my soul, as dreams come alive.
June 21, 2024
The flowers of a forgotten time
Flower in your hair
Drag me to the past.
When I stick some Lilac
Gingerly, amidst the sunflowers.
O, I forgot about the time
A few decades before,
When you came to me
And flocked towards the shore.
Jul 29,2024
Breezy
Breezy, I believe we’ll meet,
Despite all those heavy loads.
I still love you amidst austerity,
As we walk the road that touches rainbows.
Breezy, your mirth I long to see,
As you dance around that lost football.
Go, catch it from the bog,
Before it disappears from your sight.
June 23, 2024
A newly coronated king
Out of a dampened darken alley
I got myself as a king.
A king who keeps thinking about music,
And vaporing on about the wisdom
The way queen rules
The queen rules the kingdom through her heart.
She never gets tired, and never becomes disheartened.
She acts but doesn’t aspire for a necklace she loves
Thus she gets sprinkled with diamonds wherever she roams.
I touched the city many a time
I touched the city many a time
While I furl the wings of a dream.
Toronto is pretty with its stunning skyscrapers;
It looks prettier when we encounter the sprawling woods.
Nevertheless, I lost the passion for seeing it
A long time back through my skin eyes.
Nowadays every modern city
has a familiar look, filled with concretes.
Thus I keep waving my hand
towards the citizen of Toronto
while strolling over my motherland.
My fate
Sitting on the bank of a river
beneath the darkness of the bamboo grove
only to observe the mangata.
But I got lost on a weird island
through the sudden storm,
the surge of the wave.
This is me who became the citizen of that unknown island,
still remains unknown forever
And that’s my very fate.
A portrait of a human being
I draw a map of a human being each day,
In the beginning, it was painstaking.
But now it has turned into a cakewalk,
Now it takes off towards the infinite dimension.
An apparition living inside a cloud castle,
passionately counting its breathing
1, 2, 3, 4 and get lost in the phenomenon
instantly
Apathetic
Now it’s time to turn toward breathing
Since she experienced life in many ways
And there’s nothing to get from the illusion.
life equals money, money equals shopping
This is how we can define civilization.
If you can exceed yourself
If you can exceed yourself
the tiredness of boredom
could be managed.
Hence you can grasp life
In a new way, each time.
Don’t get drowsy or inclined
Let’s sit and draw like child time,
The boredom will have fleed
through your eyelet.
Life beyond the horizon
We walk on the earth for awhile
And then get asleep.
In slumber, we trespass the land,
What we called beyond the horizon.
In this fashion, I’ll embark on the journey
Towards life beyond the horizon,
Likewise my father.
And it’s the greater truth.
Blue is my dream
Blue is my dream
filled with the correct view.
Blue is my rising
sustains till the end.
Blue is my ocean
I feel worthwhile
being a Sapien.
I only seek blue
crossing the passion
of the manuscript
and entering
the empty frame.
Blue is my planet
And your eye
remains as a star.
Blue, you’re me
And I’m you
O blue.
She loves to hide
She loves to hide
From every aspect of life.
Thus she flung her cell
From the eyelet hole.
And rushed to an island
Close to the beach.
The dog named sue
was her only accompany.
And some old muddy books
Where determined the destiny.
Among them is a book of Tao
Decorated her shack and court.
Now she got habituated
With the world she wanted.
But again an old friend
Wanted her refuge.
I love to walk under the bluest sky
I love to walk under the bluest sky
And I love to get wet while it rains.
But now I’m confined under the roof
That’s why I’m getting alienated from the beautiful moon.
The Lust for the green
I got so many chances
to get disappeared
within the green.
But couldn’t manage
to dwell with the ground
through my whim.
Sometimes I feel lost
while the dawn
appears in the undergrowth.
And still looking back
towards the road
through my incorporeal hope.
From emptiness to glamour
From emptiness to glamour
drags me to the realm of paintings.
Something interpreted by Renoir,
Vincent or an unknown painter,
Who devoted their lives
To the moments they had.
Turn your perspective like a painter
before the mist covers reality.
The starting of summer was amazing
The starting of summer was amazing,
The dazzling rain of a sunny day
stunned my eyes with breezy air.
Hence, crossing the months of
April, May with high hope.
Yet got confined to a city corners
Due to the submerging and flooding.
Now the muddy water took over the summer.
You are my future life
From emptiness to glamour
drags me to the realm of paintings.
Something interpreted by Renoir,
Vincent or an unknown painter,
Who devoted their lives
To the moments they had.
Turn your perspective like a painter
before the mist covers reality.
Lusting for a perilous journey
Once I tried a lot
to embark on a perilous journey.
Yet couldn’t manage
to work with the lustrous infinity.
Though I thought
I was the chosen one,
Being a lonely-hearted sailor.
But the torrent
blew my dream away subsequently
and dragged me into a new family.
Most seen yet still unseen
The fame of “wheat field” blowing
from north to the south pole.
And I’m sure, nobody thought,
whether the flower keeps blooming
in the graveyard of two brothers.
But the painting remains unseen
for me, which means most seen
yet still unseen. Nobody couldn’t
debunk the mystery of that painting.
What did Vincent want to express?
But I unearthed something special
by reading out the correspondence
between the brothers. Hence I’ll
remain muted forever and inspire
others to visit the village of Auvers
Rather than keeps hammering on
the time of Vincent and Theo Van Gogh.
Being a crow
The less who came to me a few years back
to call me dad, I heard her speechless shrieking
And swooped her away into my urban nest
Without any expectation.