Poems
In This City
M.R. Mizan
In this city of spring I have faced life
And I have learnt to live.
My sweat is poured in her streets
And I won it all,
Soaked in her rain.
Sweat drops brought me to the addiction of rain.
I thought rain was my sweat.
My sweat turns villages into civilization.
I drew pictures in her eyes.
I built her a beautiful urban landscape.
In this city, I bled
And sped the wings of my dreams too.
My memories are lost in the pain of labour.
Afternoons of familiar stories and laughter forgotten.
Thirst is hidden behind blank smiles and courteous lies
But she is still alive in heart - a lifelong wait.
Zebra Crossing
Zakir Hossain Khokan
I flew to another country, and I can’t breathe sometimes
And then I wished to stand by the road, idly watching people again
So I stood beside a zebra crossing,
A place I heard, which had many people come and go
And I watch them walking, in their fancy dresses
I look at their faces, their footsteps, and footprints
But could not find anyone inside of them.
Beside a lifeless wall
I write down these day by day
In rain or shine
Flowers blossom nonetheless, and the scent of those flowers
Wafts through the air all over the city.
I see, someone attaching the label “POET” to my name.
I remain quiet.
Standing beside the zebra crossing
In a hopeful watch over humankind.
Force Field
Naive L. Gascon
as your silhouette approaches the lamp post
a maze appears and runs through my skin
in this place of dim lights, trade and celebration
where feet never come to sleep and die
we have five thousand four hundred breaths to spend
my core trembles as i preserve my calm expression
while you navigate our way to the next bend
our words muddle in dust and snoring cars
we fell into sighs and silence
as my ribcage was melting
I was thinking of that line tha6
In Exile
Mahbub Hasan Dipu
I am there,
where I am not supposed to be.
Captivated by mockeries,
I am the man
that I did not want to become,
who lives in a prison cell, at -
31, Street 2, Sungei Kadut.
With the machines, we bury
our hopes and dreams in the forest of concrete columns,
walls and beams.
I become oblivious
beholding this nests of lonely souls
and towers kissing the sun.
I never know
whether dreams would meet reality
in this turbulent exile, far away from home,
neither do I perceive the schism between
residents and immigrants!
Why are immigrant lives exiled?
What do I look for in the streets
of this city of dream,
though I am confined in a cell, at -
31, Street 2, Sungei Kadut.