Daily Selected Poems : Faruk Ahmed Roni

Rhetoric anguish

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Now, my precious dream lives in you
That dream I adorned long ago
But, I never thought about its reconcile
Fear has passed me between terrible thunder.

I never perceived myself in the mirror
Scepticism has overwhelmed me
gleaming eyes of black cat in the dark,
Yet, I’m without light, erupted for thousands of days.

It’s been a long era, and I became an aphonic effigy
I have divided the fortitude of desires
exuberances have flown like cotton in the air
I hid in thorny cactus; now, I bleed!

There was no glee anywhere, neither spring nor winter
Only extinction preserved since ancient times
Now, I only see you as a treasure of my dream
Dream of survival, impervious to love!

Today, nectar means affectionate untouched passion,
My heart thawed at the glimpse of eruption
The neverending journey remains in the rhetoric anguish
As I’m only waiting for my companion, the only dream!

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Mithila’s other Chapter

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The bones of gloom chew and eat by nightfall.
Fleshy body begins to fall from skyline
Mithila stays awake …
Keeps eyes on the wet sky crinkled adorably
ambitious challenge leap into the terrestrial forest
swims acrosses the desert.

In the city of locusts and mosquitoes
Mithila’s blossom youth being swallowed
body of earthen-cloud being cooked in pyre
fertile body-fat being cooked, dried fish
thorns pierce the uterus.

The cream of milk-soaked in bathwater
the swans float on the navel of Mithila
Mithila stays awake, stays awake her chapter
The piteous story of a suicidal forest.

Wild breeze on grass flowers battle with full moon
lonely time being hangs on Mithila’s neck
The necklace of rebellion!

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***A beautiful heroine whose dreams of high ambitions snatched her youth. Gradually her path has diverted – she starts drowning in deepwater, swallowing her big whales (mafias); they are out of reach today. *Mithila (Porimoni) has none around, no friends, no producer or even those she fed her own flesh. Today her youth is inside the prison cell!

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Existence

“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.”
– Confucius

Times are cutting me like a sharp knife
rapidly dissects the soul.
Beliefs are engulfed with apathetic mist
I see ingrate in people and amazed
None, nowhere an alternative word of trust now!

Wide hands mean the boundless texture of almighty
Where I have no place,
Corona and the ruinous nature hidden
across the horizon …
Mortality awaits with a miraculous wonder
youth has auctioned at the wet spring.
The purview of the fancy moon has evicted
mistrust has forsaken the realm of dreams.

Who should talk about; women, happiness, friends or colleagues?
Insect habitat in the texture of green grass
existence of mind burned in the fire of vengeance
river of amour floating in crimson rainwater of burnt Shravan
Conscience has been deceived
Yet I am alive modest, the desire of illusive
in weary, I feel an immortal hand on my shoulders
I know;
The pleasant sky lives behind the dark clouds.

Copyright@Faruk Ahmed Roni

**Shravan- is a month of the Bengali calendar – mostly monsoon season.