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Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem
We waited
the way people once waited for love
without urgency,
without doubt.
Days leaned into nights,
weeks learned patience,
Months held their breath.
Somewhere far away,
a hand moved slowly,
thinking of us between words.
The letter was never promised,
Yet our hearts knew its shape.
It travelled across borders,
carrying the smell of home
or a foreign sky,
ink pressed gently by longing.
The waiting itself was beautiful,
listening for footsteps of the postman,
for the soft arrival of hope
at the door.
at last delivered it,
But love had written it.
On a coloured page,
feelings bloomed like quiet flowers.
Every curve of handwriting
proved someone took time for us,
paused for us,
missed us enough to wait.
Now words come instantly,
light as air,
without warmth or weight.
No trembling hands,
no folded corners,
or a tried petals of roses
No silence between sentences.
Those letters are gone,
But they live in memory
unseen,
deeply missed.
now treasures of a time
When love trusted time itself.
Copyright © Faruk Ahmed Roni | Year Posted 2025
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Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem
"Rabbir hamhuma kama Rabbayani Sagheera."
("My Lord, have mercy upon my parents as they brought me up when I was small.")
.
In every tongue of every land, in every syllable ever uttered
resides one pure word: Mother.
A face adorned like a flower in full bloom,
a grace radiant as the full moon’s glow, balanced in magical light.
Mother, the name of love that stretches across the cosmos,
the glory of earthly immortality.
She is a realm within my bones,
When I was lost in the depths of a storm-dark night,
She was the light that showed me the way.
Mother. Mother, and mother again.
Every word, every verse, every breath is mother.
I found Allah in her eyes.
I discovered the universe in her love.
She nourished me, nurtured me,
like a gem too sacred to be bought or sold.
She taught me how to live
to cherish joy, to treasure kinship.
She taught me to resist the pull of vengeance,
to confront arrogance with friendship.
She even taught me to love those who hated me.
Such splendid strength, such mystic power lives within her.
It gave me the will to carry on,
to cross the ocean of sorrow by the force of her love.
When I bow in prayer, I still hear you whisper,
"Well done, my son, live with the fear of Allah."
Mother, a word full of miracles, beyond definition.
You taught me to rise to the sky,
yet keep my eyes on the earth.
I miss you most when night falls,
In the silence, your light still brightens my thoughts.
Mother, a star in the sky of my compassion.
Her radiant eyes kept watch over me.
I never believed in eternity without her.
But she left me…
Now I am alone!
A lifeless stone among the living.
Mother, that glorious, exalted name,
I have lost that name today.
I am left with only the ache of her absence.
No connection remains,
except the haunting presence of mortality,
whispering that I may only meet her soul beyond this world.
And so today,
I lift my hands to the Creator
and pray for her peace
just as she once raised hers
to protect me in her arms.
Copyright © Faruk Ahmed Roni | Year Posted 2021
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Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem
In a city of fog and summerless light,
London hums softly, but nothing feels right.
Years have withered, your name still flows
Mithila, a whisper the morning wind knows.
We never danced in moonlit embrace,
Nor traced our fingers across time or space.
But the dots were sent… three soft ellipses…
Spoke louder than touches or lover’s kisses.
I heard you, without words, without sound,
Waves of canal cry where our hearts drowned.
You were my poem, unwritten but known,
My dream-shaped silence, my marrow, my bone.
You left as sudden as autumn leaves fall,
No reason, no echo, no curtain call.
And still I sit at this quiet Departure café,
Sipping my coffee as the ghosts replay.
Each afternoon, each cup, each silent stir
A ritual mourning the loss of her.
The seat across me is empty, yet warm,
Filled with a memory that breaks the norm.
We had no nights of candlelit rain,
No shared breath under windowpane.
But you were the soul of all I believed,
A love not touched, but deeply grieved.
Years don’t erase, they only delay,
The longing I carry, day by day.
I wait in the steam of my porcelain cup,
Still hoping one day you might look up.
So I wave my feelings into the air,
Like a flag for a ship no longer there.
Departure lingers where your shadow lay…
And I, still waiting, still love you today.
Copyright © Faruk Ahmed Roni | Year Posted 2025
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Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem
Lost in Shade
I am a blur in the mosaic, painted, not placed
a borrowed hue in a gallery of dream and machines.
Voices whirl like prayer wheels spun too fast,
each syllable a wind that forgets my name.
Skyscrapers bloom like cold steel flowers,
rootless, like me, fed by wires, not soil.
I chase the scent of home through alleys of memory,
but find only the dust of vanished names.
My past is folded in a drawer no one opens,
forty winters pressed into brittle silence.
I carry nothing but breath and a blank refrain,
I am lost in a shaded world
But with no shade of my own.
Copyright © Faruk Ahmed Roni | Year Posted 2025
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Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem
I slept as time slipped quietly by
Was my slumber as deep as theirs
those youths of Eshab-i Kehf,
drifting through corridors of an ancient dream?
I forgot myself,
my name, my shape, my soul.
Memory vanished;
day and night faded into the same pale shade.
The world turned its tale,
weaving grief into the loom of history.
COVID devoured the breath of millions,
and still, I slept.
How many dawns passed? I cannot say.
In Palestine, they died,
And then I awoke.
But soon the air grew heavy,
Smoke thick with sorrow pulled me under again.
In that hush,
cries echoed through the void:
“End the war, stop the dying.
I can bear no more.”
Still, I lay
curled in the hollow of the earth,
while time stepped over me,
while time passed through me,
leaving a wonder I could not name.
Was I alive? Was I gone?
Or suspended between,
a guest of some ghostly dream?
My mind, a fractured mirror,
its pieces scattered in silence.
Fatigue, a fog pressed against the soul.
And here I linger still...
an aching wraith, a solitary watcher
at the fragile gate of sleep.
Copyright © Faruk Ahmed Roni | Year Posted 2025
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Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem
Faruk Ahmed Roni
The river flows, it moves so free,
Waves break the banks, they sing with glee.
Youth’s light will shine, it marks the way,
Ties that we form, both bright and gray.
Golden skies, where clouds will twirl,
A lonely duck begins to swirl.
On wings of hope, it glides and sails,
Yet pain will breathe through misty veils.
When seasons change, the flowers fade,
The steadfast tree stands unafraid.
Across the sands, it seeks a spark,
For light in shadows, bright in the dark.
Yet life’s own path feels known, we see,
The search for joy, a mystery.
In dreams, we find our sorrows meet,
Who knows where bliss and heartache greet?
That timeless dream, a sweet delight,
A vision born of love’s soft light.
Copyright@Farukahmedroni
Copyright © Faruk Ahmed Roni | Year Posted 2024
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Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem
Musings of Love in Mithila’s Thoughts
In weary times, when ebbing tides leave hearts forlorn,
I yearn to cradle dreams alive,
In the deep waters of your chest.
When pain engulfs my restless nights,
In the hollow silence of ribs that ache,
I long to wrap myself tight
In the tender weave of woollen threads,
The soft edge of warmth near your breast.
When despair’s heavy breath
Leaves me gasping, lost, undone,
I dream of tending my lips in bloom
Within the curve of your Mona Lisa smile.
How does one endure the solitude
Of loveless skies on a Nilgiri peak?
Even in the shadow of failures near you,
My thoughts find joy, a lavish indulgence,
Amid the sweat of life's relentless hours.
No future, no past
Only a ruinous, misplaced abode remains.
Half a century has drifted by,
Yet I yearn to lose myself in you,
On moonlit nights of passion's bloom.
Among shattered mirrors of neglect,
Where broken memories lie naked and bare,
Still, I wish to drown in your embrace,
Surrendering to desire’s sweet enchantment.
Breathlessly, we shall become
Two souls entangled, utterly alive.
Now, empty, I am a shadow adrift,
A spectre of sorrow amidst ebbing tides.
Yet within my chest, I nurture a river,
Flowing falls with your name
A restless stream, leaping through shores,
Swim across freedom’s span.
In every spring, you steal my heart,
A dreamer crafting skies anew,
You are a hidden flower of untamed grass,
Rooted deep in unseen soil.
Copyright © Faruk Ahmed Roni | Year Posted 2024
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Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem
Under the veil of a velvet night,
The Thames gleam softly, silver-bright.
A foreigner walks, her heart alive,
Breathing a city where dreams arrive.
The river whispers its timeless tale,
Of kings and poets, of ships that sail.
Streetlamps cast their amber glow,
On cobbled paths where footsteps flow.
She lingers by the water’s edge,
A quiet soul at the world’s great ledge.
Big Ben tolls, the air is deep,
A symphony the city keeps.
Through Westminster’s shadowed grace,
She steps into the bustling embrace.
A carnival of voices, a stream of hue,
Multicultural, vivid, endlessly new.
The lights of Piccadilly, wild and fair,
Drape her journey in electric flair.
Neon glimmers like painted skies,
In every stranger, a story lies.
She loses her way but gains her sight,
In the labyrinth of London’s night.
The laughter, the chatter, a shared delight,
A world converged in colours-bright.
The beauty of people, so richly spun,
Is London’s magic, her web undone?
The girl, a visitor, finds her place,
In this patchwork city, in its embrace.
And as the night begins to fade,
She feels the mark the journey’s made.
For in the heart of this endless roam,
A foreigner finds a fleeting home.
Copyright © Faruk Ahmed Roni | Year Posted 2025
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Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem
My sizzling heart failing around the clock
No light colliding with the dark to spark
But essence dying passively through the dim
Dream's wall burning by the fire of terror
In a second, a sharp arrow infiltrates the soul
And silently overflowing blood around its artery.
Nothing emerged than an insane time,
Everything not set as materialised
There are volatile inheritance bloodstreams
Follows to end up with a quiet destination.
What a life ushers for nought...
No, no satiety to purify the lure in life.
Look at the moon shaded by a cloud
A hard rocky cloud
Cosmos horizon...
Never has it appeared over the sky
Even ancient times have yet to happen.
A silent mourning overthrows the time
A path continues to the graveyard
And I found a frosted body lying
cuddled with dreams.
A scamp life left behind the snag...
A presence of fervent destiny, a final milestone!
Copyright © Faruk Ahmed Roni | Year Posted 2024
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Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem
The night sinks into a sleepy spell,
like a wanderer lost in the intoxication of opium.
Woven from restless threads of fire,
a landscape of artificial memories rises.
With shattered faith, I search again
for tender, illusory lips,
Yet every touch becomes a cactus thorn
breaking through desert stone,
and on my parched chest
a scorching blaze roars on.
With sky-sized thoughts, I once held
the world within my palm,
the same hand that carries the ache of gentle sorrow,
the same hand that keeps the tireless memory
of touching you,
My lifelong devotion to love.
O weary life, indifferent whim,
Do not let me fade away.
There is still something left
of all I’ve sacrificed.
Grant me, at last, a taste of fulfilment.
In shrinking and changing,
I lost myself and became a vein beneath the skin.
A miraculous maze swirls around me
in a world steeped in prejudice.
I am absorbed in uprooting
the hidden senses of a sky full of stars.
My own thoughts grow greedy for me,
a wavering silence in the hollows of the heart…
A night drunk on desire,
moonlight glistening like rhythm in my pulse.
My bashful, beloved body twists itself
around my two legs.
Through the stillness breaks a pungent,
burned scent, slipping into every crease
of my panting breath.
At the festival dusk descends
a subtle, saddened longing,
and the harbour of my heart
flutters with restlessness.
The moss-covered, lively grasshoppers of emptiness
are exiled today, withdrawn.
Youth, drunk on the wine of night,
casts off its homely burdens
and reveals time’s three faces.
With its beak lifted, it crosses
the rambling city of confusion,
and even streaming rains
cannot wash shame away.
The inevitable self moves through all of it,
like a ripened body
in Chaitra’s harvest fields.
The intoxicated night devours me whole.
From life’s canvas,
luxurious dreams tumble down in heaps.
The marketplace of the world moves on
by its own laws of immortality,
and the opium-drenched night
keeps me spinning in eager dreamlust,
in the naked deceit
of bewildered memory.
Note:
Chaitra- the dry season month in the Bengali calendar.
Copyright © Faruk Ahmed Roni | Year Posted 2025
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