poem
Reader Submission / States
"That’s why I have jars of jealousy, anger, sadness, monotony, but this – it’s important."
Love poem for the reflection in the mirror
I will not even begin with the skies
POETRY / October: An unfinished poem
Glamorous lightweight raindrops from the October sky keep
POETRY / Silence
A star fell on the ground in the windy night
POETRY / Republic of the dead
As if playing a game of chess / Still the world waits for the next dawn
POETRY / Birth of a poem
Hark! / Busy work of Hands
POETRY / Carpe diem
but i can't. i cannot be bothered to find / meaning behind the faults in my father's eyes
POETRY / My heart's longevity comes from my maa's magnifying kindness
Maa, you are an endless exhibition / of sweet-sour happiness
I heard they are changing the dictionary
I heard they are changing the dictionary.
The howling pack of dogs
This poem has been translated by the author from Zahir Raihan’s poem, ‘Kotogulo Kukurer Artonad’ on account of the novelist, writer and filmmaker’s birth anniversary.
Diphylleia grayi
The burst of fragrant marigolds on the blanched porch of our old Calcutta home, free like sand, unbridled like the wind
Crooked lines
To sit on thy laurels seems apposite, Yet to dig graves for perceptive pleasure resemble a breach Of lines bridging the things learned, unlearned.
Jauhar
We walk past the singing bells and our chambers, Blind to the perils beyond our walls.
I AM FROM…
I am from the 19 houses in 15 districts, none of which could become "my home, sweet home"
Of nineteen thirty-four
The motor car is always a thing of darkness, In the sun and lighted roads of day And in the luminous gas at night though
Windless hair
I frolic and burrow myself inside the vastness of the fields And the prairies that stand tall Of spaces heavily concentrated, and then stretched out to infinity
Ode to an ariel dancer
Clouds in heaven bow and billow around your feet, and you- glide through, oblivious to their ethereal presence.
Women’s revolution
The theocracy is crumbling in its seat
Lamp of grief
Nothing is meaningless if speech and silence fill void, flowing in the same force, and no one blocks the road to dreaming.