If love for your spouse you choose to neglect,
Your neighbor may swoop in with fond respect.
If workers you treat with little care,
Your rivals will claim them, sharp and aware.
A job in your field may keep you afloat,
Yet greatness is born where no lessons were wrote.
In medicine's halls, one truth rings tight—
No syringe is touched till the purse feels light.
A man with success sees his wife take the stand,
She guides, supports—a secretary at hand.
But failure flips the tale once more,
The secretary steps in as wife to adore.
For jobs, they demand those well-versed and wise,
Yet fresh faces alone meet their searching eyes.
In marriage, they dream of innocence new,
But find instead experience true.
Mohammed Rakibul Hossain
I see people with no clothes,
And clothes with no people inside.
Some dance with joy, some dance with sorrow,
Every moment of life brings laughter or tears.
In love, we see many colors,
But here, even color fades into nothing.
Time keeps moving, carrying us along,
I see strange scenes in my own story.
In poor homes, hunger is loud,
In rich mansions, empty rooms stay silent.
Behind fancy walls, hearts stay locked,
Across the street, silent tears keep falling.
Dreams shine with hope,
Reality breaks them apart.
Hatred burns bright in some hearts,
Love lives in places where no one cares.
Fate plays tricks on helpless souls,
Truth-seekers disappear into the unknown.
Mohammed Rakibul Hossain ©?
Where I looked, I found solace.
Don't look at it anymore, it's time to let go.
So I surrendered to a woman-river's embrace.
Hemlock juice across the river blue, a bittersweet journey.
I am blue-throated; Duel flaps its wings, a dance of fate.
Let's go through the umbilical cord of the sea,
And emerge on the other side, renewed.
Yet in the chest of this duel,
The morning stars shine, guiding us.
Two beaches in one horizon, a duality of existence.
On the beach of waiting silence,
Crying dreams of dawn seek another shore.
Where I looked
Don't look at it anymore
So I surrendered to a woman-river
Hemlock juice across the river blue
I am blue-throated; Duel flaps its wings
Let's go through the umbilical cord of the sea And want back on the other side
Yet in the chest of this duel
The morning stars shine
Two beaches in one horizon
On the beach of waiting silence
Crying dreams of dawn looking for another beach.
Assassin
Jinnatul Hossain Tanim
Listen, listen, listen, ungrateful, unfaithful assassin has dreamed of liberation.
In the Second World War, the world leader Hitler whispered the wreckage of the wreckage of the world.
How many crores in plunder, how many miles, All written in Israel,
Listen, listen, listen, listen, heretics, beasts, the cries of the newborn of Palestine can be heard, in the knowledge of death, they are helpless today.
Muslim well illuminated by the arrival of the cataclysm. They will wipe out the killer on the battlefield in the guise of a Syrian newborn hero screaming at the daily bomb.
My beloved
Jinnatul hossain
You like braided hair if you weave belly flower light there.
I will be intoxicated by the beauty of your hair, I know your momentary arrival will make me sleepless, so will my love for you stop.
If love ends at your arrival, how can I love you. Beloved, reading your toll is that cheek, it is like a magic trick to surprise.
What is the answer to my instability? What will ever be seen is this inertia broken. I am not a character in a story called Romeo, nor a nameless feeling written in the ink of a prayer, "Will you give me the price of this good house?"
Do you have anything to say conscience? However, are you the reason for the tears in my trembling eyes ????
I'm so surprised to see you, I get a big smile because you don't understand so many stupid emotions.
Whether you like it or not, I would sit alone and draw you in my mind
Unexplained pain
Jinnatul Hossain Tanim
They are covered with gray and black clouds
Gestures give unspoken pain.
The nocturnal bird flies away
The handcuffs of the dead are adorned.
There is no place in that city full of memories
The reality is that you are not here today.
Silent arrogance seeks me out
What does the flying bird understand?
Memories are lost in the directionless current
Someone called from the side.
The soft light of Jochna is helpless today
Time is lost in emptiness.
Silent night floats in the song
In search of the bird in the lost tune.
Feelings of hatred as much as anger
From time to time ruthless promises flow.
Dirty smile is also acting today
This lake is burning with pain.
Under the broken broken branches
The bird will never come back.
Great pain in your address
Burnt ash in coal is blown away.
Gray black clouds tell me
This life is helpless in unspeakable pain.
Today I want to plant a rose flower,
It would be to my beloved soft corner.
When I will not be here,
The flower will be bloomed there.
Our first meetings will turn into petals,
Her tears will be crystals.
While the petals will drop on the ground,
Her feelings will roam around.
After a while it will fly away,
It will remind her our first dating was in May.
There is no instruments in which can measure,
How she used to share with me her pleasure.
Every now and then she will raise her ears,
Might be my words will make whispers.
Shahadat Hossain
Farewell, the theme of life,
after seeking world hardly with a knife,
none can we stop - reaching – the den of pride,
we have to go alone following a bride.
Farewell a sense appears a while,
hard to get it back, the lost secretion of bile,
tears flow a moment like the majestic river Nile,
none can we stop – reaching – the den of pride.
Farewell – we mean – detachments of hearts,
no longer found roaming – the certainty of marts,
shedding all the memories,
memories of the past, happiness and worries.
Farewell – the tears stand fake, dripping away love,
happiness thrown away, hatred wins above,
stop shedding tears with no meaning at all,
the tears hamper the view forming a liar’s waterfall!
Strive hard for triumph or see farewell again,
shedding fake liquids, no palpable pain,
I promise to keep farewell alive, with less joy and death,
and feel the meaning of farewells truth, hard passing the last breath.
M.R. Hossain.