In my mind
Rushes and chaos are the cover of my daylight,
Sculptured hope is nothing but mirages and haunted me for years,
In my mind
All hustle and bustle when calmed down
At midnight with the burning candle
My obsessed shadow walked out in wander
From afar watch ghosts play
And pitying me
Because my soul is weary
In my mind
Yearned for a knock in the door
House filled with the scent of sweet litchis
And a love to return.
Categories:
litchis, 12th grade, absence, character,
Form: Verse
Autumns are the season of emptiness
which is the invitation for newness,
Here leaves are falling-off
& the earth is giving show-off,
We're enjoying fall of leaves
& here's beautiful every eves,
Pomegranates & peaches are here juicy
autumn is sometimes as like as boozy.
Winters are the season of cold
hot applications are like as gold,
Here days are short
& nights are long,
We're inside blankets
& singing song,
Carrot pudding & soups are only hope
because in the list of favorite these are top.
Springs are the season of fullness
rebirth & renewal gives happiness,
Here crops become new
& festivals are dew,
We're feel some 'feel of joy'
as we're actually God's toy,
Apricots & litchis are here yummy
eating less, 'my son' says my mummy.
Summers are the season of hot
cold places are the main spot,
Here days are long
& nights are short,
We're out in cooler
'coz of feeling hot,
Juices & ice-cream are point of joy
'coz of these, summers we enjoy.
Categories:
litchis, seasons,
Form: Rhyme Royal
A little brown river,
Naked children splashing in its muddy waters,
Their mirth and laughter of raucous delight,
Untroubled by foresight.
A tiny hut made of mud,
Parching in the dazzles of the ruthless sun,
The bent figure of a farmer as he nurtures
The field of paddy that his simple heart treasures.
A bustling bazaar,
With its overwhelming array of sights and smells,
A man with a cart full of ripe plump litchis, a rickshaw puller,
Whiling away the time, adding to the cacophony as they bicker.
As the sun sets over the distant ragged hills and lush overgrowth,
I ponder on what I have retained
From the journey across the plains of my mother land,
Bangladesh, where happiness and poverty, go hand in hand.
Categories:
litchis, people
Form: Free verse