সব চরিত্র কাল্পনিক

ঘর স্ত্রী’র চোখে জল রেখেই পরস্ত্রী’র দুঃখ নিয়ে কবিতা লিখছেন যেই কবি, তার জল ছলছল চোখ দুটো’র মতোই দিনকে দিন সংবেদনশীল ভাঁড় হ’য়ে উঠছেন একটি রাষ্ট্র। অনুগ্রহ পূর্বক নাম জানতে চাইবেন না; বাবার খেয়ে মা’র নামে নিন্দা রটানোর দলভুক্ত আমি নই। আশা করি আপনারাও তা নন এবং আশা করি উৎকৃষ্ট ঘাসে শ্বাস ডুবিয়ে চললেও, মস্তিষ্কহীন …

PhD-r Galpo: An impeccable reminiscence of personal life

Phd-r Galpo is a latest autobiography book written by Dr. Md. Nazrul Islam, popularly known as Asif Nazrul. Dr. Nazrul is a famous academician, renowned for his bold critique of Bangladeshi politics. Asif Nazrul wrote more than ten novels and non-fiction books: among them Nishiddha Kayekjan (Forbidden Few), Udhao (Lost), Asamptir Galpa (Tale of Incompletion), Bekar Diner Prem (Love …

Scarlet Memories

The very first time blood rushed down my thighs Was not because my insides were put to work In preparation of a home for a future child The first time was when all was lost My growing brain still learning the ABCs No one had taught me what “rape” means The first time he found …

After the Sea

What could be written today? But what’s on the page? About the pulses? Winds tonight are motionless Burial of the torn was done Is it because of the cold? Rain of the that night When the war torch came Back to home with the fall Of the empire and bricks? Runaway fragrance in the light …

Ruined Sun Sets

Laid on a denim hammock, blinking at the violet skyline, Sipping cheap whisky on cloudy ice. The sky is not cloudy, I see palettes of red, orange and yellow. Sounds of sizzle come sailing through smoke, These are sounds of patio, cronies and their presence.   Yet it staggers to a bad place, left-right, right-left. …

আয়ুকাল

শুক্রবার সন্ধ্যার পর ৩৬০° ঘুরে যাওয়া পৃথিবীটাকে বুঝতে হলেও আমি শুক্রবার সন্ধ্যায় যাবো! সবকিছু এতটা সহজ নয়, অথবা এতটা সহজ সবকিছুই, যেনো রাস্তায় পরে থাকা জমা ময়লা লাফিয়ে পেরিয়ে যাচ্ছে ক্রসিং, যেনো তদন্ত থেকে উড়ে যাচ্ছে ময়না। যেনো পৃথিবীর ডাকনাম কমলালেবু! যেনো যুক্তাক্ষরহীন সম্পর্ক লিখতে শিখে গেছে সময়।

Risking a Poem

This poem was written on a perfect afternoon in Pokhara when the Neela1 flowers were embroidered against the sky, when Fewa Lake spread its sun-glinted anchol under the hills, and eastern clouds threatened to soak a hurrying road, this poem was coming into being.   The poet had traveled far in search of a slice …

A Dhaka Minute

 A car, a hopeful meanderer, Static in perpetual motion, an equilibrium Unwanted, undesired, but The only inevitable. Inside, the air is conditioned, cool – Outside, an almighty inferno.   The temple, once hallowed, now erring, ablaze, The slum, once homes, now ablaze, The bus, a promise of transference, ablaze, The rickshaw, a livelihood, ablaze, The …

Paper Heart

there are poems inside of you that paper cant handle all stuck inside an urn sitting on a mantle filled with secrets and dead promises and broken hearts filled with lies and dead smiles and painful remarks there are poems inside of you that paper can’t handle stuck like your mind when your favorite person …

My Amygdala

Naked scales and serrated wants fall around me like inlets of a vertical body of water. Sound is the lizard in me, anhydrous its eyes; slide a finger down its lizard tail and feel irate grooves— centuries old—rising away from fear under its violent epidermis. Take me to your calm place and I will sink …