Poetry from Mahbub

Poet Mahbub, a South Asian man with dark hair and glasses and a suit and tie
Poet Mahbub
The Red Ribbon Braid

My hidden love lies in your red ribbon braid
The scented dewy morning wind flows from the fringe of your sari
The sun plays in my sky every moment
The rejuvenated, illuminated star I feel like twinkling in the dark
The light in hand I'm standing on your land -the alluring flute from far-reaching path
A piece of my dream lies in your red ribbon bun shinning in the bright morning sun.
Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh

A Floating Piece of Cloud

I'm a piece of cloud floating in the sun of rain
Wakeful on your eyes in time or out of time
In this play of rain and sun
No sooner had I closed my eyes the cloud went out of sight 
Paying no heed I pray for staying some more time 
Where does it take place and how it works?
Before my sleep I recollect the scene repeatedly
All I lost in the world of sleep 
Possibly the cloud flies like that of egrets or doves 
Setting me up to the play of light and love. 

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh

The Envoy of Peace

You are a drop of my eye's envoy of peace
Flying and flying around you sit on the green field
On the bank of the river, the lake, or the pond 
All on a sudden to the branch of the tree 
Eyes fixed at to the unknown far-reaching way
That aiming snatches me away from myself 
Vibrates the imagination to the distant vatical path
O the migratory flock of birds
You are exposed to the winter light - a heavenly glory
Soothing my eyes all the way I come back with a light 
In my hand at the evening or night.

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh

Why is this acute classification in humanity?
Why is this different social status?
Why can't we flow like the waves of the ocean?
The sun rays can't reach the depth of the forest
Yet the heart or conscience shines in humanity
Darkness may be removed for every single hand
The blind eye can find the light
The hungry can have a lump of food
The sick can get treatment 
Why people die before eyes in season or out of season?
And the others run through on the dead bodies 
Though we all stand in the same line in all prayer houses 
Then why is this condition outside?

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh

Turning Back

Whenever I take step out of the door
Come back again and my eyes fix to the deep well of yours
Hold your hands, cry so loud
You pull me up and I weighed down on your rosy wings
You keep me so tight in your breast
We can't go away so far leaving each other
In this sweetness of bond
A spring of love feathering from this sight to the limitless unknown
The joy shimmering in the eyes I come back again and again
Dive into the deep well of your eyes. 

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh