O my dear

O my dear, you are not here
birds are calling the morning awakes
soft wind blows around me
the sun rays with glowing colours
The roses blossoming I like most
enchants me with its fragrance

O my dear, you are not here
I can hear, feel you just my bear
every time I pay heed to
in the world of silence

O my dear, though not here
every time you call me
the objects of nature beckoning
to see the glory of loving features.

Balubagan, Chapainawabganj

13/09/2015

 

Rehabilitation

Right is not sometimes the right word
She finds herself in riddle
its a dirty railway platform
spreading germs and diseases
Where a new born baby sees the light of the day
it has a desire to play and gay
so many stars are twinkling
the butterflies with colourful feathers
goes away from the view of the sight
does not come to soothe the eye
does not make the heart tranquil
a need stands before, a bar
hinders the soft morning wind
to enter the door
that breaks the heart, finding no more.

Balubagan, Chapainawabganj

14/09/2015

 

Emigrant

 

I am an emigrant, love to you

Have come here to your place

not to pollute the blowing wind           

or to make any harm

Only to perform the duty

here I am

my family and myself

this is my honor

and it is my subject

I come here to you 

heart and soul

and the hands that work

work for the better of you

I want to live

as long as it is allowed.

 

Balubagan, Chapainawabganj

15/09/2015

 

 

About My Writing

 

I write not for the rascals

my writing is for the self

its my taste, my intoxication

I lay on it, it lays on me

my pen is my striker

I play with it

what I dream I walk on the things

that overflows the world

can be tasted by thousands of people

at this moment caught by the eye

may be wrong or write

I don’t brood it over

very tasty to my tongue and senses

I hold water on it

drawn on the rainbow

make up my mind not before and after

just rises from heart

I pick it up

I love you my dear

I write for you

don’t show me the disturbing light

that breaks my heart

my love for you

hundreds of readers

my love for you

hundreds and thousands

millions and billions of readers.

 

Balubagan, Chapainawabganj

16/09/2015

 

In This Morning

 

Now it is morning

the bell is ringing

the birds are singing

soft wind is blowing

the river is flowing

I am walking beside

round the garden

the world awakens

flowers are blooming

bees are sucking

children are mocking

some of them rush to the kitten

some are washing and brushing

now it is morning

a time to rise

a voice of pray is heard

side by side

the sun is growing

the ice is melting

the chimney is groaning

smoke is running

eyes are burning

in this silent morning

when all are befitting

only the chimney is groaning.

 

Balubagan, Chapainawabganj

16/09/2015