Poetry from Mahbub

The Death of The Dog

Mahbub, a Bangladeshi author and English teacher

It was just at the evening

Finishing my morning prayer at the mosque

I kept my feet on the highway

A sound stroke my head and heart

As it was knocked down by a vehicle

Moaning and groaning so poor in condition

Sickly sound the last for ever

Stop my breath taking for a while

Just like a baby before going to sleep

Keeping its front hands to its mother’s head whimpered

The last pathos lost for all

Brimming to the air

Revolved my mind and mentality

We all are going to pass the silence of the night.





We are born ambitious

Like to rise high, fly in the sky

Flow on the water, to the highest pick of the mountain

The lives lay flat on the ground

Innumerable skulls deep in the whole

Gnarled in the open air

We die every time in our sleep

Every night we roar and moan in nightmare

We struggle for something

We die for something for the next welfare

Achieved or not

But die for achieving till the point of the result

The ship is bound to the harbor

But found always in midst of the ocean

Sinking and rising

Making the belly a football

Crawling a long way seem to be too tired

Not to be able to enter into the hall

The sun rays too hot

The tigers devour the body

Bloods seeping from above

How can I escape?






Many children have been lost in the manhole

Many lost in the dark

Many fought but defeated in the struggle

Many spend the nights by the highways in the dirt and dust

What they eat we never think for

They don’t have the courage to the white spark

Man is born free but not for other’s future

We struggle only for power and dignity

We never keep our hand to the helpless world

We demand not so heavy only for the right to be loved

To take away from the condition of starvation

To plan for rehabilitation and sanitation

We eat we bleed angry and hungry

How can we flee from this dying and suffocating world?

Will it ever be possible to inhale the fresh air?

Is there any unseen hand that might emancipate us?




Come On, O Raindrops


The sky is ready with clouds

Pours the drops of rain

The thirsty land quenches its throat

From many years the leaves dried or dying

Likely to get drenched by the water

Thrives from the core of heart

Turn back me

Spread your hand over

Just like the water from the sky

Fill up the gaps green and fresh

So peaceful to the sight

Burning my body turning to death

O dear, come on.



Play Ground


In every step of age we are playing

Even in the sleep we play

As long as our heart beats

We play struggling to throw the ball in the goal post

We clap our hands glitter the eyes

We dance sigh a relief wind

I am to you are to me

We walk hand in hand in the ground

We look forward behind

Take care to win for the next time

The spectators on the gallery

Crying laughing

Defeated winner

In every step of life we are playing.


Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh



2 thoughts on “Poetry from Mahbub

  1. Five awesome poems that seeks the meaning of life and death. The words stir the emotions of its readers, bringing forth a yearning to understand and emphasize . I love how The Death of the Dog reminds me of my mortality. The struggle, the ease and peace in dying. I love how Nightmare reminds me of the fears and struggles with hopelessness in being in a situation I have no control of. I love how Emancipation reminds me of struggles to survive, the indifference towards giving hands to those who are helpless, the apathy, disappointments and disillusions in life. I love how Come On, O Raindrops reminds me of unquenchable thirst and hunger, yearning for nature to quench and sate yet not nurturing nature for world’s salvation. I love how Playground reminds me of the games we play in order to survive the rat race helpless and blinded by ambitions and peer expectations.. Truly thought provoking and self realising experience.

    • Sorry for the autocorrect mistakes, like Empathize changed to Emphasize and Self-realising to Self realising

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