The New Nation - Internet Edition

A breath of a new leaf

Time has upturned me

to my birthday

on the October 15,2007.

I am blessed divine to see

my own soul

for what should be my role

to play to love life.

But I cannot reach high heaven

as I am but an insignificant one.

I am to earn my living

in the worldly strife

saying everyone of my mission

to bring about peace and harmony.

On my birthday I feel a breath

of a new leaf of a tree

aging seventy three.

Since I am not so grown up

at length and breath.

I am to live in the world of

sheer selfishness

where poverty is prevalent

in the infra- structure

of our uneven society.

Where for want of love and amity

everyone suffers.

Where our sensory nerves jingle farce.

Let us dream of that time

when the face of poverty will be

effaced from earth

and the people will smile

and breathe fresh air

from here to eternity.

Everybody dies but

not his spirit

(For revered journalist Obaidul Huq)

How a man is created, none knows.

Only we know that after our birth

from mother's womb we strive

to live till death. What life shows?

That from here at home and hearth

we struggle very hard to exist alive.

But none lives at one's sweet will.

Living for limited purpose, we feel

Whether you feel living or dead

It's certain that time is limited.

Working like a magician or conjurer,

a man shows his sheer spirit of life.

For living one ought to serve, a fewer

of those multitude of people, but in brief.

Who knows what unseen vessel takes

the soul away from the body for whom?

We have only the image that we annex

to our own fantasizing the unseen dome.

The Creator has the goal of His creation,

that, we can never know, is a mission.

While death covers, soon it is fulfilled.

One is to leave for another to lead.

This is what a spirit of life we possess.

Everybody lives here in this world-mess.

Everybody dies of its age but not of its spirit.

Our, soul is eternal, want it meets.

M.Mizanur Rahman

Sitting like a picture

You seem to be sitting like a nice picture

With the oceanic blue in your eyes

Within my grip the arrow of time is waiting

Songs of crop flow in the eyes of magpie

With the keen desire for light of the day

The body of night has been waiting.

You seem to be sitting like a nice picture

With the oceanic blue in your eyes

Blazing the enchanting fire

under the cold shadow of your body

I desire a close shelter in the dress of evening

Riding upon the wing of the sun

I like to reach to the ultimate time of life.

You seem to be sitting like a nice picture

With the oceanic blue in your eyes

Inside my heart a romping river is hiding

In the green field the body of stars flows over

The invisible cuckoo comes faster

With the rain-wet song.

Birth of a poem

The eternal time is nurtured with pleasure and pain

Read the language of supernatural song in two eyes

The twin bodies flow on the animation of pleasure

The concept of love sleeps on the lap of the sky.

You never told me cry of vulture on the path of love

The bashful cuckoo weeps in the yellow dream

With the affliction of oceanic thirst at the soft dawn

In the deep night the sprouts of pleasure start playing.

At the first hour of the month of Falgun

In the deep of your tender soft eyes

I witnessed the first light of civilization

It gave birth the first sky of poem

Playing with the kettle drum with sensation.

Qumrul Islam Khan