Quazi J Islam                           Copyright©Quazi J Islam   EMAIL


an exotic poetic Anthology
by Quazi J Islam

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Please select and click on a title at the left of the page - you will find the poem in the right column - Ignatius
Poetry Titles
An Eye
Arabian Night
Banyan fall
Blaze
Branches of Dream
Catch the Happiness
Change
Cockroach
Days of Seventy's
Disobedient Spider
Dream
Dreamless
Duel
Eternal Call
Expectation
Gracious God
Height
Insect plant
Journey
Karbala
Kings and People
Male World
Mail-Train
Movement of Question
Old Turtle
Preparedness
Rabbit's Artwork
Returns
Shelter
Speech of Lenin
Stigma
Storm
Stranger
Suspicion
The Vanity
Thirst
Train
Time-plant
Trounce
Two Ends
Vulture and Delta
White Clouds
Youth-oath
You to south, I to north
 

Dear Co-fighter,
I am a poet too. On the last 26th March 2002 my seventh publication "After A long Way" have been published from Pristina, Kosovo. Few poems from that book I have pasted here for your site.
(See attached file: English Book2.doc)
If you like any of them please write me back. If you give me your mailing address I would love to post you a copy of my Book.
Best Regards.
Quazi J Islam
UNMIK Pristina, Kosovo
 

After a long way [Dedicated to a devoted poetry-lover, friend and colleague Nizam Ahmed]
After facing a huge rising-falling, crossing the fire of anger and hates
Blue Pacific and so many skyscraper mountains
I have brought you here
Not to lose in this pine forest

This is your injustice, where have you hidden yourself
If I can't find you, all my swimming will drown in the mid-sea

So much storm-catastrophe, crossing the agitated surge
Passing the scary shark-teeth
I have just stood up after washing the salt from the body

When we both had looked at the window of the plane
After moving the wheel
Can't you remember while we were
passing the wave of the Alps?
We'd found another meaning of life
Or when we were looking for a safe refuge
for an unknown night
Riding the thread of the cable car
Slightly leant on the sky the silent mountains
a piece of blue lake in a little far
And a Swiss night had shaken our life totally entering into the depth of feelings

In my boyhood an astrologer said
"one day something will happen"
My friends in adolescence said, "the first prize is for me"
In the math class the teacher said, nobody can stop me
I will reach the goal passing all storms
And seeing my silence in the office
Colleague Mr. Humayun remarked like an intellectual
"You will cross the ocean"

But after crossing the ocean I've lost you

Here, in this shore of the ocean everything
goes the other way around
Nobody cares to pull down others who are climbing up the stairs
There is no unseen social wall here between
Rich-poor, officer-hawker
A proud relative never curls his brow
For an unwanted phone call from a poor one
and puts down the receiver
Cold in the winter and hot in the summer are absent here
You may be late to order but your table will be full by a click
With all delicious foods and drinks
And Mozart will be ready beside the fountain
with his favorite piano
And my favorite words, words for my poems, that I never found
They all are now ready in a line as a disciplined
And obedient force in the battlefield

My empty home is full with golden crops today
I need you
I want you here now
At least come with your refusal words
Sit in front of me; keep your eyes on mine
See, I made this empty house full today only for you

And see, how organized the clothes in the wardrobe
There are no wrinkles on the bed-sheet
All the utensils are shiny in the kitchen
You must think somebody has just cleaned
There are no ashes and butts of cigarette in the carpet
Fresh flowers in the vase, the alarm
has been set for six-thirty on the wall clock
It is kept in the right place where you have left before
White-snow waves in the curtain of the windows, across the glass the beautiful garden
Joyous gamboling of greens, invitation of various flowers

You know, the torture of poverty never made me ambitious
Only once I have lost my home
Only once I was forced out from the home
I was dreaming for a home
A home came to the center of the dream in my boyhood
Clean, nice, new and a decorated home
My own home
Fearless home to be forced out

After crossing a long ocean today I have arrived at the door of that home
I have washed all the salt of poverty from my body you see
Smell me
There is no smell of salt
There is no smell of mud
Only some memories
Like a handful of coins, were brought from the boyhood
A home at the center of those memories
Some fatigue of being forced out
Nothing more….

During my whole life making sweat of my blood
After crossing the waves of so many oceans
After crossing the teeth of sharks
With every bit of wishes, with every bit of energies
I have made this home
Is it mine?
Why is it so unknown?
In the depth of completeness
Emptiness is walking

I want to get rid of the weight of completeness
After making everything organized
A confusion is coming in my mind
I might have run after a wrong dream during my whole life
You-less in this empty home
I just have stepped out from the quadrangular of the dream
And I've expanded the roof of my home to the sky

This is my new dream
This is my new journey.

Quazi J. Islam

Pristina, Kosovo
12 July 2001                                                                                        Top

An Eye

Clouds fly ahead, an illusive eye arises in the center of the bosom
God's wet eyes peeping in the house of Virgin Mary
All vultures of the town leave an oblique look
Their wives started to strike, mourning in the procession
In the river of mourning fish-mothers swimming in reverse
Dowel* is starting a duel against Hawk
Animals are walking leaving legs in the sky
All bees have fled, unprotected beehive

In the night-eye of the maiden a lonely candle is being lit
Sick buds in the branches of rose are opening new eyes
Rivers have eaten all dry lands
The green delta smiles in the happy sea
The black hole is rolling back the net of dark
And tears of a destitute child have been stopped.


Motijheel, Dhaka
27 February 1995                                                                           Top

* Dowel is the national bird of Bangladesh; it is a tinny bird with black and white combination


Arabian Night

Date-Palms stand beside the pedestrians on the indefinite desert
Crevassing the new moon night
Silent world doesn't know where is the home
of this stranger, in which city?
Where does he sleep, in which home?
The burning candlestick is attracting
his eyes from a long distance
Which children's tears are floating on the desert-air?
Suddenly stranger's eyes became round
Arab Night, why these cry, why these much anguish?
Hungry children, empty pot on the oven
Stranger advanced in the mid-night to widow's home
Wetted eyes with sorrow, there is not a handful of grains left

Who is this stranger? Is Desert-Caliph crying for his people?
Who could be a part of each and every people's feeling
Only he has the right to rule the people's kingdom


North Badda, Dhaka
20 October 1989                                                                             Top


Banyan fall

I expand my hand to the hoary-light
I get them back full of thorn of concentrated dark
My bad luck is like this

"Your yards will be rich, full of paddy and children"
Saying this, which saint stepped out under the blue sunny sky
He became fixed up with sudden thunder

I hear the cry of Dahuk* every night
Dense pain comes from the deep silence
Inside the navel a small woodworm slowly advances to the root

I have got the reason now at last
Why the banyan fell down without a storm

Pristina, Kosovo
25 April 2001                                                                                Top

* A local Bangladeshi bird. When it gives birth (baby comes from the egg) it starts non-stop crying, until the blood comes from her throat the baby couldn't come breaking the eggs.

Blaze

Blazing eyes of wolf clad in white Panzabee*
Again woke up after the three decades
Fierce nails of loathing tusked pigs
Scratching the revived land of green delta
In the name of religion they are doing
the highest unreligious work
From the Panzabee of decree the vein-cutting knife
comes up in the open air
Now it is being used on innocent students with the shameless brag by the wild decriers

In their artificial lungs foreign breaths are flowing
In their illegitimate artery the flow of Shindhu and Tigress
Their devil souls are the dens of Aiyub and Eyahia
This is the time to remove them from this green-delta
Wake up the people at the bank of Padma
Let's pull them out with the roots; this is the high time.

Mohammadpur, Dhaka
19 July 1994                                                                               Top

* Panzabee is a loose dress for men; usually Muslim fundamentalists wear this dress


Branches of Dream

I may not go
I may not get
The expected wealth
Isn't it better than the confirmed lost?

Han, maybe you are right-I have nothing to lose, zero is my base

Zero under my feet
Sky above my head, the concentrated blue, the most secured roof
Breaking the affection of sky I sometimes make a palace
Full of gold, ruby, diamonds and all other most valuable things
In my palace of dreams
Is all illusion?
Breaking the wings of clouds
Made hunting dress of the Prince

Sometimes I throw colorful clouds to the sky-canvas
Mixing all colors of expectation
I build a fantastic artwork
My born-dream

If I don't get
If I don't go to that path
I won't get I know
But I am happy there's no fear of refusal

Riding the wings of dreams I may fly from one empty space to others
In the depths of infinity of sky

In every wrinkle of the endless blue space
I have to plant new seeds of dreams in every moment, every day

Embryo will come up from the seeds of a dream
Then plant and then the tree full of branches…

The branches of my dream one day will catch
All hunger of the world, all realism.


Pristina, Kosovo
29 March 2001                                                                                  Top


Catch the Happiness

Would you want to catch the happiness?
Then open your Anchal in the air
Yellow-Green-Red-Blue, variety of happiness floating in the air
Be careful! Never stand facing the North, East or the West
Your Anchal of expectation then would be decayed
by the gradually accumulated woe
Woe's tri-tide will increase your frustration
Men occupied these three sides
They spray the seeds of sorrow to the air;
air does successful pollination

The new generation comes up from the vulva of sorrow
Become triumph carrier and torrent their own
And others habitation, these dry-lands
Open your Anchal of hope to the south
Catch the happiness coming from the blue sea
And reach them to the home of sorrow-burnt people


Mohammadpur, Dhaka
11 December 1994                                                                     Top

* Bangladeshi women wear an 18 feet long cloth, end part of it calls Anchal that they use as like as scarf. Traditionally they accept the most valuable things of achievements in their Anchal



Change

Great God comes up to the stage
Leaving foot prints on our bosom
We concentrate to the pray-song
Kissing the sacred feet of God

God, be prepared
One day we shall come up to the stage
You have to tolerate the people's weight
By your own bosom

Badda, Dhaka
2 April 1994                                                               Top


Cockroach

Ikri Mikri* thiefy steps
Post-graduate boy is sucking the variegated penis of politics

Opening the cover of the pan four knavish cockroaches
Come up to the olive colored bathroom
Restless endeavor keeps up the whole night to capture the palace
Crimson dark of night has been stunk

At the end of the night the cadre boy has come back home
The green shroud is trembling in the hand
of a somnambulist father

On the stunk back of cockroaches
Flag-music raising up a mirth tune


Mohammadpur, Dhaka
16 April 1996                                                                Top

* Sounds while cockroaches move around.



Days of Seventy's

Recently it seems to me that the roof of this house is the bluish sky, the old eyes of seventy's can't be brave to fly up anymore. When the malicious wind shakes the screen of the fifth floor seldom I tried to throw my eyes to find out the depth of the blue sky but there is no blue, the eyes full of dark black of the grave. Tender light of the stars doesn't kiss my hazy eyes, can you tell me why the door of light is closed? I don't understand who has the bad luck. A deep breath makes a wave in the life of torment, growing affliction rapidly.

Under the slack skin the cruel shake of winter-night, drought summer-sun burns every wrinkle of the body; days of seventy's are really unbearable, crossing the river toward the other end is relief now. When the sky comes down from the roof on my lid of eyes, life would be caught in the frame of universe.

Mohammadpur, Dhaka
07 August 1996                                                                  Top


Disobedient Spider

I jump over the mailbox every morning
What is there, any secret wealth?
There is nobody to write me, I know; there was never
Who cares, the disobedient spider whole night
webs the net of hope

Her non-stop needle never been quaked
By the threat of system

From where the jingling of Kankon* comes
May be far from here after the black mountain
Where the green island, a small black spot of a lake
Which is full of tears of deep black-eyed Asian women
In some cottage of that island
Lighting a love-candle someone's Kankon-hand is writing me
Jingling, jingling, oh Kankon's jingles

The blue envelope of hope becomes faded everyday
With the morning's adolescent intercourse with noon
When the blotting papers of evening absorb all lights of the day
Disobedient spider again becomes busy to web the net of hope
With multiplied energy.

Pristina, Kosovo
30 March 2001                                           Top

* Benglet, traditional Bangladeshi glass made bracelet.


Dream

Twenty-five roses have fallen down from your scarf
They are moving around on the dust with dawdle
No one has taken those fallen roses with love
They haven't got chance to be placed on the sacred alter
The translucent silky sky smiles in the moonlight rain
In the lap of trees a new flock of flowers smiles
The flowers of your hair bun again has lost
in the independent land
Seeing concentrated pollen of pain in the air
the earth became dumb

In the dreamy eyes there is now triumph flowers only remains
In the daydream you see the eternal happiness
But you never know this is the mistake of an illusive life
It can only be a mistake to seedling of hope in the sterile desert
Let all flowers of dream fall, even then you do dream
Keep a piece of dream close to your heart; never be dreamless


Shahebbazar, Rajshahi
20 September 1993                                                    Top

* 18 feet length traditional Bangladeshi women's cloth which is called Saree. Anchal is the end part of Saree that women use as like as a scarf. Traditionally they accept the holy gift of good wishes in their Anchal.



Dreamless

On the bank of the Thames the charming love
of dreamless life overwhelmed you
In a carefree manner you walk ahead
to touch the last light of the day
Firm steps of reality on your vainglorious footprints
Which part of life you can touch
augmenting hands which part of hope
Never enhance its greedy tongue for a new dream
Only that hope, only that life you
rear in the depth of your bosom
Throwing fireball of fearless words you want to burn
The bush of dream and the green olive of sea-bride

Ignoring the cold of snowfall you advance
a dreamless compact life
With both the haughty legs you draw
a frown on the lover's bosom
So, the fire of pain can never touch your hair
You keep up, not dream, an untiring
proud forehead in your own world
"Dream is a worthless support for a life"
Thinking you didn't make yourself
a deadly dreamless empty desert?


Shankar, Dhaka
17 June 1997                                                           Top


Duel

In the wrinkles of algae an abstract of the Male
In the eruption festival
Eve-Adam intent upon a duel

Alexander the great hero of the ancient history
Has fallen down his unbeaten sword
Macedonia hides her face in the shriveled history
Unset sun is crawling down to the shiny shoes of Whitehouse
The seven brothers of Yelthzin are putting butter
On the bread of Lenin
The red horse of Mao Zedong is trying to cross
The wonder wall of the Middle Ages
The hunting Eagle of the Pentagon sips the oil cup of Iraq
Kissing the cheek of Netanyahu in the mid night
the dream 96 of Bob Dole
Pouring poison in the oil can of Middle East

In the eruption festival
Eve-Adam intent upon a duel
In the crease of algae an abstract of the Male
Mad painter spreading careless color on the canvas
In the crease of algae an abstract of the Male
Gradually becomes more and more abstract …


Shankar, Dhaka
06 September 1996                                                      Top


Eternal Call

Waves are flourishing, the abstract evening sea
Making a couple frown; an illusive dark on his lap
When the morning fog has been wiped from the body
Someone alone in the silent interplay of light and shade
On the other side of the sea increasing wonder calling me
Attraction of undivided soul is being increased gradually
"Come back innocent boy leaving dirty noise of that end"
The abstract woman of the interplay of light and shade is firm
advancing both her arms

Scary dark of night will come down now from the gloomy sky
Whose wink has vanished the boat and the boatman?
Tell me Goddess how shall I cross this scary sea
Just don't stand like a doll from the heaven spreading arms
I heard about you from the land of the first kiss of sun
Encumbrance of fatigue life I will unload on you.


Rampura, Dhaka
13 December 1997                                                          Top


Expectation

Red-love comes up from the grill of failure
I run to the procession catching both the strong hands of love
The expectation of youth hanging on the cornice of dream
Catching up all the cruel hood of serpent of growing frustration



Badda, Dhaka
3 April 1994                                                                         Top


Gracious God

Oh people, listen to me and believe
The God was born here, in this clay-house
He lives in this soil covered trimmed house

My God doesn't deliver any oracle
Never burns the crops field of infidels
Throwing the curse of anger
The wish for miracle meeting with him
Doesn't require crossing the millions of light-years
Riding a palanquin of light in the night
of Shab-E-Qadar (night of Meraaj)
This mortal house is his Lou-He-Mahfuz (place of Allah)
He lives inside the human

The God of human doesn't send any miracle message
Sitting in the throne of glory top of the head

God gives an unavaricious look from the clay-house
Observes variety of people
That sight across easily the obscurity
between the past and the future
Gracious sight of God
Spreading out with the sun in dawn from the east to west
till north to south
The stars get closer in the sky of night
Bluish moonlight opening their wings in the air
Flying throughout the night
Angels become knelt down in the crops field

Very carefully opening the door of the other world fled the darkness
Hunger, poverty, epidemic
The tiny mice have jumped in the salty sea to save their lives

My God smiles innocent and fair.


Rampura, Dhaka
11 October 1997                                                         Top



Height

Look Mukti, keep your eyes on the window of the plane
Just under our feet a stick is walking ahead
That is Eiffel tower running with the
French civilization on his neck
Look at the right side
Can you see a wave fade like a tuft of hair of an Asian girl?
Those are the Alps,

And in the left window
which city is it under the white clouds?
Is it Munich or Stuttgart?
Berlin must be more to the north, what do you think?

In fact I can't catch up
All the cities look the same as others

If it is seen from a huge height Dhaka or Geneva looks alike
Differences are not fallen in our eyes

Why don't we see everything from the up?


Pristina, Kosovo
21 November 2001                                                        Top


Insect plant

Abstract drawings on the green wall
The man has passed away by this time
A leafless zigzag banyan has wafted
All the newspapers, an unusual art work
Solidarity of few more souls
Along with Rabindranath, Mahatma Gandhi
and Indira
Hey hey
It's not a tree, the Subcontinent!
A fantastic artwork on the green wall
The boy is in Geneva now
May be cleaning dishes, pouring the wild
Youth in the glass of whisky
I became astonished listening to him
"Insect plant" without swelling up
A wave of expression on his face he said
Briskly, "Termite, don't you understand, this is the
Work of naughty termite; destroying my wall
Listen, that's not an art at all"

Painter! Are you a born blind termite too?
Building invisibly the dream of undivided subcontinent
with the blood of your own boson.


Mohammadpur, Dhaka
23 April 1996                                                         Top


Journey

Hat off tiny evening in the bed of a giant night
End of the day a strange traveler surrenders
himself in Sijdah (prayer)
Someone is calling him; echo in the soul
Left home smiles in the wings of birds
Hazy eyes of grazed glass fall a look into
the children's affectionate face, he tries to secure
all uncertainty of his future generation by his own bosom
He tries to catch the earth with both of his trembling hands

Hun huna hun huna* palanquin at the door
Four bearers are chasing to get up hastily
After packing half of his belongings looks behind
A four-year-old baby calling him "grandpa" again and again
Who is going? Asks neighborhood hearing footfall
Sound of music is spreading out hun huna hun huna….

Mohammadpur, Dhaka
19 November 1996                                                      Top

* When four/six bearers bear the palanquin they make this sound by their mouth like a music.


Karbala

Twelfths moon above the head, which pedestrian
walks on the desert-path
Did he forget his thirst? Hey pedestrian, listen
camels are screaming afar
Thirsty camels are crying; opening their bridles
Injured soldiers are screaming for water
This might be the time for the last breath, thinking soldiers
Up-faced bewildered General is running after an illusion
Leaving thousands of dead bodies behind him
on the sands of desert

Attraction of the smell of money, expectation
of earthy happiness
Judgment is past now, vanquished the bondage of affection
Hey sinful vicious, no more love is left in your heart?
Which black concrete has built your heart?
In this way justice is defeated by money
But still they are afraid of the people of justice…


North Badda, Dhaka
18 October 1989                                                                     Top


Kings and People

War between two kings
Nothing for the people
Kings throw out all things
We try to keep all



TSC, Dhaka
16 January 1997                                                                       Top


Male World

The button of the cloud is open, the moon peeping
from the shade of Frak (Women's shirt)
Having a tender luster the male-world smiles
Uncultivated lands become pregnant
with the high tide of the hoary moon
See the wife of farmer preparing the reluctant Hubble-bubble
Young woman watching the changes of color in the sky
Someone is making Pajama of sky cutting the cloth of the clouds
When the knot of the Pajama has been untied she doesn't know
The proud light of the sun entered into
the dark of the pair of thighs
doesn't hear that is forbidden
Evening crawls down to the chest of the earth
light begins in the other world
The young woman is alone counting
the stars in the sky one, two, three
The concentrated debt of life is making Himalayan
After their duty the Angels are playing guitar
leaving their feet in the sky
Again the moon rises in the other world as
the rule of the universe
Forgetting the affliction of the past
The male world is sucking her full of lust-satisfaction


Shibpur, Narshingdi
15 September 1994                                                                        Top


Mail -Train

Time wheel moves
The restless world whirls
Mail-train is raising a tinny music in its whistle
Breaking the ribs of night a smoke-proboscis of pain comes up
Passenger-less empty platform, crying the tacit morning
Sluggish life though looks for the luster morning
Till now as it hasn't fallen down into the gutter
Isn't that enough?

Zhik Zhik…Zhik Zhik
Crevassing the corpse of dark the tired mail-train is
moving towards the end


Mohammadpur, Dhaka
19 April 1996                                                                                Top


Movement of Question

An alone Question
Suddenly found a handsome Question-friend
At first they keep their eyes on each other's

Then spreading rosy hue at face
Fingers touch other's fingers
In this way every organ became friend of everyone
One full moon night the lady Question became pregnant
On another full moon night she gave a birth
of two cute Question-babies

Catching the hand of childhood-adolescent
One day they have reached to the youth
And in the tree of youth they have
started producing variety of Questions
Moving towards everywhere some of them have reached
near to human affection

Some have stumbled in the mountain of wealth
Some have become ascetic beside an alive cascade
One started moving upwards to
the Louhe-Mahfuuz (place of Allah)

And one became fixed in between the hell and the heaven
And the other one is titillating in the mid night
with a loving couple in the intercourse.


Shankar, Dhaka
13 December 1997                                                                     Top


Old Turtle

Falling the drop of sun from the seagulls wings
In the bloomed waves sorrow returns
The sad sandy beach

Moon rises then
Leaving cold breath on the neck of lonely owl

Pushing up the soft beach
The old turtle appeared in the silent evening after a long sleep

How much bones of sharks moved
How many fossils of nights
How many star fishes, sea-horses have been trafficked to the shanghai city
By the cruel hunters

Old turtle expands his neck
And keep his drowsy eyes crossing the wave of moonlight
After the ocean.


Pristina, Kosovo
22 March 2001                                                                                Top


Preparedness

Recently I am feeling afraid of loneliness

Get up, catch the plane, shuttle bus is leaving..
all these preparations, packing wrapping, run in a hurry…..

All big suitcases in the trolley running to the stairs of the plane
I feel a scary shake at the bottom of my heart

I said you several times
don't give me hurry; what is the necessity of all this preparedness
all this packing wrapping?

What is the problem if you don't increase my pain?
when I am leaving for somewhere?


Fush Kovova, Kosovo
22. November 2001                                                                       Top


Rabbit's Artwork

Afterwards a satisfied look to the changes of sky
in the early evening

The red of delicious carrots in the sky-canvas
O Rabbit, our little artist
Gentle breeze shaking the green leaves of carrots plants
green turnips, beets, various radishes

Plays Ekka-Dokka (A Bangladeshi game) and eats
And spreading the colors of green vegetables, her dreams
in the sky-canvas
In the play-mood she is spreading her food or the blood of heart!
the red of beets and carrots

Suddenly she draws an illusive evening by her tail-brush
The drawings of another evening

are being matured somewhere else
Color of canvas is being changed very quickly
And a lioness leaving lavish footprints
towards beginning of the night.

Pristina, Kosovo
22 March 2001                                                                              Top


Returns

Dear Poetry, to keep my forehead on your wavy chest
I want to waft the ocean; atonement of my past sin
The ugly devil of poverty forced me out from you
Can you remember my sweet heart that was a deep dark night?
Deep concentrated dark, I started running after the fertile life
But at last I have reached the dumb civilization of concrete
Ignoring your fair love I have been insulted mind to heart
Even my body also has been insulted and became blue

My heart has been killed to keep my lips
on the breast of stone-woman
In the dark of thighs there is no love but
only greedy tongue of fire
Greedy fire spreading from the mid province to every vein
Hoary birds are burnt; hope of love
is crying because of burnt-sore
Spreading both arms like a falcon I am back to you again
Open your all cloths and embrace me; accept me in full.


Shibpur, Narshingdi
16 September 1994                                                                       Top


Shelter

Who has flown from the ventilator?
Words of poem have taken a ride on
the wings of sparrow-couple
In the other place someone, very popular editor
of an unpopular paper
A good man like a tree
Silently pumping hydrogen in a red balloon
Catching the tail of cloud
red balloon is flying in the sky

Ridding the wings of sparrow couple
The words of poem are in luxury travel in space

Capricious wind has changed the dreamy route of space traveler
The uncontrolled stones have injured our red balloon
In between the sky and the ground
Hanged up the wounded pendulum; a flock of bloody dream
Splashed out from the wings of the sparrow couple
A group of delicate astronauts
Is looking for a satellite shelter in space.


Superprinters, Dhaka
18 October 1997                                                                              Top


Speech of Lenin

Look Vilnius, look Lithuania
And look even the particle of dust of beloved fatherland
The cold valley and the modern Moscow
Look the country of General Winter
Open your stoned eyes
See the loathsome tusked wolves
Have put their sharp teeth on my throat
And you now see only their other face full of smile with an eternal invitation of peace
In a wide bragging of democracy they hanged a bag of begging on the neck of Russia
Tusked wolves of Kremlin slowly
taking out the favorite concrete
of my beloved fatherland under my feet
Dear country-people see after rubbing your eyes
Is there not a nice leather-belt in your neck?
At the end of backbone has there not grown a tail
like a rope circle in the hang stage
Your strong wrought hands those were ready to break the fetter
are not ready today for crawling?
Holding the end of the glossy belt of your neck
Whitehouse is celebrating democracy in the world festival
Goodbye the sun burnt coppered men of Lithuania
Goodbye the hot desert of Azerbaijan
Goodbye the daring General of Siberia
Head down to Washington the ultra-civilized Moscow
Goodbye you too
My lifted hand is blessing you
Oh my beloved country-people, be comrades again
Now the true-comrade

Hobiganj
15 August 1991                                                                               Top


Stigma

An adolescent girl walks in the street catching eve-hands
She looks far on a bench in the park, responding night-call
Finding happiness in the smell of sweated shirt
of a rickshaw puller
Rickshaw puller caresses his hands
on the soft Pyramids, not Egyptian
Both the brave hands become engaged in wild game
Silent nature is embracing them with her affectionate touch
There is no one here, even not a single bird is singing
Only the dark night alone celebrating
the reception of a new couple

Night moves towards the morning in the ever known path
Stigma in the face of small town
Becomes clean again in the early morning
by the broom of sweeper
The girl walks ahead to the door kept aloof
For the survival nights become sullied in this way
Nevertheless they embellish the morning with crops and flowers


Romna Park, Dhaka
16 October 1989                                                                              Top


Storm

Rim touching copper cloud of gloomy evening
appears in the northeast
Moon behind the cloud, windy siren on the roof
Scientist-eye on barometer becomes anxious
Shaken women-children are fearful of
possible danger, increased concern
Vulnerable shelter of widow shows agitation on destruction
Obstinate nature still menacing by frenzy
Even though mother's eye flares up for hoping light
Tears of boy has been stopped in father's harsh scold
Velocity of wind decreased slowly in barometer
Silence everywhere as normal as before
Skilled hand holding helm, what a contented captain
As if cataclysmic storm made no harm

Sky got rid of cloud, overwhelmed by full moon
Only the salty taste of corpse remaining in the ground


North Badda, Dhaka
15 October 1989                                                                             Top


Stranger

How surprisingly the stranger is unlocking the doors one after another of this darkness city. After long imprisonments have just been released the inhabitants of the darkness city went out with a burst of joy. In the end the stranger has arrived at the center of the city where the biggest merciless locked door of the city stood up in the earth through the sky and simultaneously he is attacking the giant door successively. The inhabitants of the city have been amazed.

Who is this strange angel appears after the long-sufferings of the people; which God's beckon is behind him?
He might have been in the illuminated world with his grocery of effulgence. Is he hawking the light of graciousness everywhere?

Someone must come to rid the evil-stone of the city, the hope waves in the eyes of the people of the city of misfortune.


Dhanmondi, Dhaka
16 September 1996                                                                      Top


Suspicion

The sprouted embryo blooms her petals with my bosom's warm in the abstruse tree of love. The spring is falling down from the branch of Rokto-Korobi*. The flow of suspicion comes down to the abstract eyes of my beloved one; those were love-wet over the long time. Nocturnal birds hurting the illusive spring with cruel pecking; trembling the lover heart of the earth.

In a moment the claim of true love became untruth
The threat of lost builds the nest in
the suspicious fragments of straw
The shiny beauty of the truth has been lost
in the colorful cover of untruth
Innocent woman doesn't understand anything of it, doesn't understand the depth of man's mind
To anchor the ship at the wrong harbor trying heart and soul
In the adverse sea she wafts
her gondola of emotion in reverse tide

Come back my love; anchor the ship at the harbor of trust
And give elixir to love-hurt man; get rid of his thirst.


Mohammadpur, Dhaka
10 March 1996                                                                               Top

* A flower blooms in the spring


The Vanity

Someone never tried to understand me
Someone never tried to find me

Over your hand, which me, am I that one?
I'm in front of your eyes but I'm not there

Where I am, where do I go, when and where I stay?
Everything is left everything is unknown to you
Which me you get at the warm touch in the night
You get a shake at the bottom of your heart seeing which me
Am I that one? Storm of heart to shake your love

Have you just known me like this in your whole life?

In between a wave's roar, blue sky
The door of my mind is locked now

There is no more time to find me out
I walk now in the other way, rootless…

Pristina, Kosovo

20 August 2001                                                                             Top



Thirst

In the interplay of light and shade inside the cinema hall
Tempted youth finds an extended wave in a couple-thirst
The celluloid ribbon is shaking the honey-field of sixteen's
In an unknown technique someone pours the rage of the body
Shy girl is gradually tearing all complicated knots of
her body responding with a generous call
In the terrestrial interplay of light and shade
the quake of the beach-dance
moving towards the depth of blood; a sharp knife

The silver fire is burning her blue shirt
Standing on the soft beach the boy has torn off
the amulet of all obstacles
And wafts the revolted body in the drunken sea
The tiny shore of pebbles has been broken by the angry tide
Salty water can never veil this burning thirst….


Shyamoli, Dhaka
06 August 1996                                                                                 Top


Train

We are two equal lines of railroad
Our love is a running train
Romping time its crazy driver and
Sunny noon of TSC-Chandrima, splashing emotion in the water
Of victory Memorial Lake, poking each other
throwing pique words to each other
Are the boxes-portmanteaus of various goods of this train?
In one of those very carefully kept
The dream of youth like crimson eyes of Dahuk

In the right or in the left or
In the valley of the mountain or on the beach of sea
Wherever leave the body
Very technically we maintain the distance
of the equal line of railroad
Thirty-nine point three seven inches

Because we know riding the horse of emotion
If we become very close to each other or
Move in reverse a little far carelessly
Will fell flat on one's face the running train; our adored love


Badda, Dhaka
10 January 1996                                                                             Top


Time-plant

Idle noon possesses on the wings of butterfly
Afternoons open their wings in the floating clouds of Ramna
Rain-jingles come down crawling the air-stairs
Sky comes down to the earth with a deep feeling of love
Afterwards evening appeared in the eyes
of returning birds to their safe refuge
The tree community takes the illusive wave
of flowers on their laps
How dare the Eve-Adam stop the growth of time-plant?
And trying to build up their leaf's home
in the root of permanency

Nights are coming close to the eyes
of the dangerous beast of prey
The prince is playing with the Golden Stick and the Silver Stick
Over the whole forest there is floating scary pollen
Becoming pregnant the trees open their blue eyes full of pain
The newborn baby is spreading smiles of stigma
In the sound of dewdrops ringing the bell of a new morning.


TSC, Dhaka
22 February 1995                                                                           Top


Trounce

When happened this strange thing
Both the feet of my brave legs moved in reverse
Are they ghost's legs?
The feet moved along with the nails and fingers
Now I am walking backwards though I am looking forward

I've become afraid of seeing the pawn in chess
The uncontrolled horse bites on my knees
Both the black elephants are attacking me
with their lifted proboscis
Shoulder to shoulder the opposite soldiers are attacking me
By open sword with a chorus roar
The bumpy sail of my warships has been torn off in small pieces
Ministers, Generals are engaged in conspiracy against me

How everything has been changed in reverse like this
Continuously walking backwards where shall I reach eventually
Afterwards an ugly tail will grow at my back
Shall I get ugly black hairs in my whole body?
Shall I lift my one leg if I see an electric poll?
And will crawl down with four legs?


Pristina, Kosovo
2 April 2001                                                                                  Top


Two Ends

Two dogs are coming from the other end
Ghew Ghew…Ghew Ghew…..

Hukka Hua….Hukka Hua…..
Replying the foxes from this end

In between the complicated barbed wire of love
Raises the hood of serpent.


Rajshahi
28 September 1993                                                                       Top


Vulture and Delta

The vulture is nodding in slumber, sharp pinnacle of decade
In a breach of palm leave, standing one legged touching blue
Vulture-wife is drawing dreams in a drowsiness sitting his left
Eye-couple is burning funeral pyre as bared nest of allurement
All of a sudden melted corpse is seen
Glowing blood covering the whole of floating delta
Both eyes swell up, another pair looks back
Pair of exotic vultures is flying in the sky of delta

Two makes four, eight, sixteen, increasing like this
The green horizon of delta is now vulture protectorate
Every moment they 're eating the hard rib-bones bit by bit
Leaving greedy fangs in the turning of every path
A procession of vultures now in the bluish sky of delta
How long the small creature will remain flabby.


Khilgaon, Dhaka
31 January 1989                                                                                   Top


White Clouds

White clouds walking ahead
In her bosom the image of moon, oh moon, unsmelt Jasmine
Summer moon rises in Prishtina with the kiss of corpse noon
Countless peep of moon

Suddenly jumps up sweet sixteen from the can of bear
In the air
And walk ahead to Prishtina as clouds
In her bosom the image of moon, oh moon, unsmelt Jasmine

Into the tincture of moon I put my lips
The war burnt thirsty stone of Drenica

Red-blood Drine waves in the glass of moon-dust tincture
Shadow of it crosses the top of Lausha hill
Catching the strong hands of Adem

Adem, the great hero of Kosovo Adem Jeshore
You are not the star of bloody-sky, the love of Kosovo
The vigilant soldier a black Eagle

White clouds returning back
In her bosom the falling moon, in the depth of moon
Crying multinational scar of nails.                                                              Top


Youth-oath

Break down the Eiffel tower of civilization
and come down to the ground
Open your fertile body in the prolonged crops field
Hidden smell of gunpowder in the depth of your navel
The color of dew on the wings of flying birds
you erase from the delusive eyes
And then open your new eyes; see the sun burnt coppered men
And love the favorite dream like the shiney ploughshare
My dream is endless green crops field
The Kanamachhi game of an innocent-turbulent adolescent girl, splashing creativity from her sweaty thigh

Take the seeds of love from the flame of crops
at your womb of dream
Grow only love for the people at the tree
of your fire-full ardor of youth
Fulfill this widened desert with crops and flower
For God sake, spread out this youth-oath to the air…

Mohammadpur, Dhaka
15 December 1999                                                                       Top


You to south, I to north

You and I, so close to each other

Our voyage has started from the same point
You expanded your journey towards the south
To find the ingredients of arts
And I have advanced to the north for life
Between these reverse towards journey who is advanced more
That account has been rendered on time

An open sea in front of you
You are looking for ingredients of arts
in every wrinkle of the hoary waves
I am standing in a wild mountain in front of a live cascade
Praying to the fertile tree for the green of life

Distance of two youth in between us
But once my back was on your back

When you'll cross the ocean
When I'll cross the mountain
On the other side of the world
We shall meet again
face-to-face

Badda, Dhaka
21 January 1995

All Poems on this page
Copyright©QuaziJ Islam
UNMIK Pristina, Kosovo                                                                     
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