Long Ghat Poems

Gardener
    Jinnatul Hossain Tanim

Do I know the goal of the flower garden?
  The thorn forest flowers are torn and the blame is pressed.
  
Goalini of Kanur Ghat is in the...

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Delhi seems  closer than it was last time. 
After a tea with GST, 
on to a backstreet  of Varanasi, 

Untouched by authority; 
ignored more by memory 
than darkened by amnesia.  

A huge...

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O grandma *Gomati, was born on thy bank
And born of a mother bearing your name
On all the yesterdays your water I drank
Am still the part of your pattern and frame.

My blood flows in thy stream...

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On the golden quilt of alasi*
Long stretched and
Kissing the horizon
I nap
Cushioned on malleable azure clouds
A stainless heaven kissing the earth I dream
On the savage land 
Atop the hill and hillocks
From the bushes come 
The clings...

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it is circulated deep into the soil 
that you’ve wore the dress of paraffin 

in the multidimensional wind of the winter 
the cash-memo of the recently purchased 
gold-bangles 
would reside for some time more 

then...

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Even if the clouds give you  darkness 
Always  know  that the sun shines above 
Giving hope and desire to live
Don't let those moments make you leave your dreams
It's always a step a...

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Chanting of hymns
filling this sweet evening air
chanting of hymns
takes me nearer to God it seems
I pray to God with my heart bare
relishing each moment so rare
chanting of hymns.

Wick lamps floating
on the sacred Ganges river
wick lamps...

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When terror strikes,
fear inside you
makes a hissing sound,
breaks the vessel.
Pain spurts out.

Your limbs swell like sapphires
in a naked suffering.
You were searching the face
of your dead brother on burning ghat.

And then on, it pours.
Babies were burning...

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When terror strikes,
fear inside you
makes a hissing sound,
breaks the vessel.
Pain spurts out.

Your limbs swell like sapphires
in a naked suffering.
You were searching the face
of your dead brother on burning ghat.

And then on, it pours.
Babies were burning...

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The grace of the silence, the trace of the moon is,
The flames of the soul , shows what a ruin is.
On the threshold of heart , where the treasure resides,
There in aromatic air blow ,...

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