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Best Poems Written by Faruk Ahmed Roni

Below are the all-time best Faruk Ahmed Roni poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem

Mother, A Miraculous Word

"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.

Details | Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem

Lost in Shade

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.

Details | Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem

The Coffee I Sip Without You


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.

Details | Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem

Musings of Love in Mithila’s Thoughts

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.

Details | Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem

Mist of Life

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

Details | Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem

A Night Journey in London

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.

Details | Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem

Destiny, the final milestone

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!

Details | Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem

Mithila’s Descent

Mithila’s Descent

Mithila walks, sleepless,
Across the hills of grief.
The burning fire of memory trails her...
A shadow of mist,
Uncrossable,
Like an uncertain, fleeing cloud.
Time ignites in envy’s blaze.

She floats on sweat water,
Her sixteen-year youth
Nurtured in fatigue.
Bones,
Muscles,
Tremble in the humid air...
Mortality’s edge sharpens
Around her fragile form.
The endangered time of mortality 
around Mithila.

Lost in illusion,
She journeys alone—
A swan without a companion,

Adrift in the wreckage
Of ruined nostalgic desire.
Puberty crossed without lust,
Her memories, treasures locked,
Clutched like kin.
Adversity hangs the balance of life.

Tonight, Mithila stands alone in the dusk...
A desolate figure,
Adapting to realms unknown:
A realm of quicksand in the dark.
Drowning,
She dies to survive.

And at last,
Mithila bloomed to be eternal!


( The 21 years college girl was recently found hanged inside the flat, as told victimised by a wealthy, powerful businessman in Bangladesh)

Details | Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem

The Dark Side of Emotion

The Dark Side of Emotion

(Love never touched its lips, though it longed for destiny!)

You are gone, a forgotten episode left for me to see,
And still, I wake each day haunted by the chimes
Of your footsteps, echoing through time.
The air was heavy, fraught with doom, the day you left,
The clouds, once sleeping, turned to storms in the south.
At the thought of you,
The bones inside me freeze in an instant,
Never foreseeing such fierce turn in my life.
I lost myself, a wanderer like a parched bird,
Searching endlessly for your elusive presence.

Each moment passed now counts in your departure,
Every step you took ahead was a pain in my heart.
You left, not a glance behind,
And merchants ploughed your chest with their lust,
They robbed you and pierced the dreams you once held.
A long, winding path crossed the jungle 
where you once walked,
And vanished from my sight forevermore.

You left no wealth, only a heart scarred and torn,
A heart wounded by the trident of time.
Thousands of precious days fell from the sphere,
Hours dropped like petals from the roses to the dust.
Everything passed so quickly, darkness after light,
Dreams linger still, untouched, unwrapped.

The new moon cast aside the sun’s rays from your brow,
A cruelty pierced your chest, your violet lips frozen,
Time has not forgiven you, a fragile flower with no bloom.

Every path leads to an end, and I am your final shore,
Still restless, waiting for a fortune now extinct.

Details | Faruk Ahmed Roni Poem

We Were Here Before the Borders

They wake before the mist lifts
in bamboo huts nailed to the spine of hills,
children with feet toughened by stone,
learning to climb before they can read.

The school 
a distant building
where the teacher comes twice a week,
or not at all.
Lessons written in a language
that does not speak their names.

A girl hums an old tune
as she carries water from a stream
her grandmother says is sacred.
Now the water tastes of metal.
They do not ask why 
they are used to not being answered.

At the clinic,
a mother waits with a fevered child.
She counts the cracks on the wall
instead of medicines.
The nurse says,
“We are out of stock,”
as if health is a seasonal crop.

Once they owned the forest
like breath owns the body.
Now,
papers come with stamps and numbers,
men in uniforms
draw invisible lines through ancestral soil,
and call it development.

At night, they gather
not to protest,
but to remember.
Around the fire,
the elders whisper stories
that the government does not archive.

They are not asking for your mercy.
They are asking for memory.
Recognition.
The right to name their pain.

They are not gone.
They are not voiceless.
They are singing still 
in a tongue that echoes through trees
you no longer hear.