Poetry from Mahbub Alam

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.
Mahbub Alam

Energy, the name of my friend
An excellent room to live in the soul
How exciting! I live and die
The taste of the fruit I enjoy every morning
Or like the rose I frequently run and lost in fragrance
By kissing and hugging connected in the magic bond
Always infatuated by  
No more suiting than this mystic drug.

Chapainawabganj,  Bangladesh
27 July, 2023

Sheikh Russel in Memory

It was 15 August night, 1975
Darkness and panic seized around
Here and there blood was rolling on  
Stained on the wall and floor
In the 32 Number House at Dhanmodi
10-year-old Russel cried out in fear
"Take me to my mother"
Russel sobbed on
"We are taking you to your mother"
The assassins fired him bullets soon
The little boy, the innocent cry
The lovely flower face fell down to death
It was raining then
Today the rain pours in every Bangalees' heart
The sound of bullet still rebounds ----------
The people of Bangladesh stand up with a vow
"Amar Sonar Bangla, Ami Tomai Valobasi"
I love you through all.

Chapainawabganj,  Bangladesh
12 August, 2023