Poetry from Mahbub

South Asian man with a gray suit and a white collared shirt and a green and black tie. He has glasses and short black hair.
Writer Mahbub

A Flashback to the Journey

When I went there it was winter

At the time of my returning

It opens the new sight of spring in nature

A lively exuberance in all objects of nature

That makes our heart dance all through the way

Plants worn in the green leaves and the buds

The sun-beam flashes out the glorious past

The sky and the waters engulfed in

By sneezing and coughing, touching and hugging

Breaching the bond we have had

The virus creeping through in the air

Drove us into the storm and war

Never thought before.

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh


On a Strange Platform

People are living in the cave

Though they had no experience before

Feel like elaborate or suffocated

At the same time awakening the heart

Our existence and the predecessors’

Imagine the self and others on present, past or future

Pervaded nature all over

People forgot that

Roads and beaches redressed in its own blanket

Birds and butterflies, crabs or red crabs and turtles

Fly and float free with new notes and hopes

Green, red or rosy always smiles over 

Nature wants this to be in such kind

People take exercise in the yard

They like to have been among the family dears

Or deep in heart to prayers, music or drama

And try to get removed from the pain of virus fever

The world stands on a strange platform

Where one leg is on stair and the other waiting on the point of the train

Starts to run with the whistle by the uniformed man in duty.

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh


In the Battlefield

Deaths and the reflection of deaths all around

In the left, right, front or back

Fighting for the reconciliation

A reformation, recognition

The spreading hands of the lifeless bodies on the ground

What can we do for them?

We are promising, singing and praying

Carving the sight in mind

Lightening the heart a new hope

Though the self breaks and regenerates

No diplomacy here acts on

A joy over the matter fighting for

Swells up in courage

Never breaching the hand raised to pace with you.

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh


How the World Running

Sitting on the rickshaw the man suddenly felt uneasy

Waiving his hands to get any help

The people encircling him

Stood silent and waited for what is going to happen

The poor condition became poorer and more helpless

Without taking any more time, he collapsed

Instantly and slowly breathed his last spreading the hands

The man was not other than the rickshaw puller

Waiting for the passenger on the turning point of the highway 

Nobody came in touch of him if he bears Covid-19

People see the death in their open eyes having no feeling over there

More interested to have snaps or videos

Again the fever attacked mother kept away alone

In the jungle by her sons in fear of the virus

How the life appears before the eyes!

What a world it prevails at this moment!

Maintaining a social distance?

The world has lost its vows to make over

Hey you agree or not.

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh


An Agreement with Corona

Corona, a virus attacks the human body

Though not visible this virus, this disease

The same intuitive 

Greed or avarice, selfishness, jealousy, exploitation, economic barriers

And what not that breaks the whole system of humanity

You build so many missiles by which

This green world can be destroyed six times in a moment

Is there any use of this in place of Corona?

In spite of spreading the helping hand you make yourself powerful

Spending the gross amount of money for the atomic energy

On the other hand crores of people die out in hunger

This invisible virus destroys the whole community of the earth

Fight to survive, helpless to meet the quick get pass

Have belief in heart one day soon or later

The vaccine will come to light to recover

In the meantime it will cause an irreparable loss to the earth

Then after some while you will rule your objects the same as before

Forgetting all the deaths and the sufferings 

In lieu of the firing the fire

Please pull me up dear from the chimney door

Make a way living altogether in the fresh water

Under the shade of the large trees

Refreshing the mind in the green fields.

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh

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