I have retired from Government service and am now, at 65, enjoying a fully retired life. Besides reading and freelance writing, I am also engaged with some social works here and there. I enjoy reading poetry more than I like writing. I have written poems in my vernacular Bangla quite a few in my younger days, and now, for the last seven years I have been writing poems in English too. English not being my mother tongue, readers are requested to view my English poems a bit leniently. I write in English to share my thoughts with the world at large. Like every other poet, I also long to be heard!
To me, life is a beautiful piece of poetry. Indeed, life has always been rewarding and fulfilling to me and I thank God for that. As life matures, so does ones mind and mental vision. At some point in life, the physical vision starts waning but mental vision keeps widening, holding the glory of life aloft. The colors of life portray different pictures at different times. I love to see those portraits painted through poetry. I feel a natural fraternity with all the poets of the world, of all languages.
I do not write much, but read whenever time permits. When I do write, I write for my own pleasure. My writings flow out of my mind as expressions of feelings of all kinds, like love, joy, nature’s beauty and behavior, human instincts, heart's yearnings, appreciation of Gods bounties, etc. etc.
I have had an imaginative mind since my childhood. My imaginations were, regrettably, subdued by my introvert attitude. However, fortunately enough, I could overcome this uneasy and uncomfortable state of being in later years, as I grew confidence in myself while growing up. When I think of my curiosity, I remember that Nobel Laureate Gabriel Garcí¬a Márquez described curiosity as “one of the many masks of love” Love in the Time of Cholera . I am, by nature introvert but inquisitive. I used to ask a lot of questions when I was a child. Sometimes due to shyness, I used to ask the questions rather to myself than anybody else and give the answers myself too. Till today, I am inquisitive, so please do not take offense if any of my comments seem to be too nosy. You may just ignore them if you would not like to answer.
I am proud to have many friends all over the world today, and I guess, like me, they too are proud of their association with me. I have a natural feeling that I am dear to all my friends, home and abroad, as they are to me. I value friendship and I forgive easily.
Like all writers, I too like to know what the other fellow poets think of my writings. So my heartfelt thanks will always be there for those who would take time to read and comment on my poems and quotes, good or bad. I have included some of my thoughts in my 'Members Quotations' block. I do not wish to get any word of praise unless I truly deserve, and I cherish no yearning for accolades. I do not believe in comment bartering, so it is not necessary for you to comment on my poem just because you have happened to get one or more from me on your poems.
If you want to criticize, discuss or appreciate any of my work or that of yours/others, and if you want elaboration of any of my comment, please feel free to message me. I offer my friendship to all who would stop by and have a look at my works. I try and read as many poems as time permits, and sincerely rate the poems I read. As a usual practice, I take time to comment on poems whenever I read one. Like all other poets, when any of my poems go unread, I too feel sorry.
I can be reached at: firstname.lastname@example.org
No love is as overwhelming and as pristine,
As the maiden love of a lass, say of sixteen.
When, like closed petals of a bud she begins to unfold
Herself, blossoming into a fragrant rose or marigold.
She seeks a hand to hold and wants hers as well be held,
In secluded privacy, from the outside world as if shelled.
She wants to love and be loved, to touch and be touched,
Promises never to leave the hand that she fondly clutched.
Standing on the crossroads of childhood and puberty,
She seeks a soul mate, not one who is always flirty.
She feels lonely at home, even in a crowd, or among peers,
Unless with her soul mate who keeps count of her fallen tears.
Promises everything that her soul mate wants her to be,
She herself also demands promises on matters flimsy.
Not realizing that promises are easy to make but difficult to keep,
Broken promises are hard to bear with, easy to make one weep.
Sometimes the lass' love remain held back and suppressed,
When she is wary that her emotions will not be addressed.
Flames of this unexpressed love burn her in slow motion
Whenever she muses over some missed conversation.
Lucky is he who wins the first love of a lass, in solemn trust
Pity on him who misses the offer, or throws it into the dust.
When a life's journey is begun hand in hand with no suspicion,
The two unsuspecting souls will no doubt reach their destination.
It's easier to unfurl oneself in poetry than in prose. I love poetry exactly for that.
We are all long distance runners on a track that is as vast as life itself, with an unseen finish line. We may slow down or speed up at intervals, at convenience, but we must never stop.
One who thinks good, cannot speak bad.
Nobody ever comes for ever, but everybody at some point in time goes for ever!
Those who manage their time well, fare well.
Loneliness is a living mirror. It reflects on many shades of life in retrospect.
I love kindness and compassion, in whatever measure, wherever!
Life, methinks, has a beauty in each stage, dawn to twilight. Even a man at the doors of death may have something to look at and revel in.
Love requited is a song of nature.
Kindness and compassion are the two natural byproducts of a loving heart.
We human beings have a memory cell in our brain. With the memories are attached deep rooted emotions, to which we love to look back, over which we love to reminisce.
Poets are usually lonely, but nature befriends them, as if to compensate for the absence of human company.
An artist works on a canvas, with pastels, oil and water colors; a poet also draws a picture, with words only- his open mind is his canvas. Like an artist may carry an unfinished canvas for life, a poet may also carry an unfinished poem in his mind for life. A picture that a poet draws on his mind's canvas with words, may look like a beautiful work of an artist, though the poet may not have drawn a single picture in his life with paints and brush. Likewise, a work of art may blossom into a beautiful poem, although the artist may not have written a single poem in his life. Such is the relation between poetry and painting, a poet and an artist.
Hope is the small raft on which we are to cross the sea of sorrows grappling with the turbulent waves!
History is written by the victors or their agents. The saga of the vanquished has no place in it.
Hope is the vessel that takes us through the turbulent waves of the sea of life!
One who knows his/her mother language well, takes no time to learn other languages well as well.
May kindness and compassion be the constant vanguard of our frail conscience, to set it back to track whenever we tend to err!
A memory is the summation of moments that leave an imprint in our throbbing heart.
Our entire life is for lessons to learn. The syllabus is flawlessly prepared by the Teacher, though it remains unknown and undisclosed to the pupils. From our bedroom to the farthest point of the Earth we tread on, is a seat of learning.
Only a small spark is enough to start a bushfire.
A poet and a parochial hater cannot walk together.
Good friends are like good assets of life. Conversely, the bad ones are bad liabilities.
Love; even if it leaves us, it lives in our hearts 'in the afterglow'!
Your best poem will be delivered when you would be in the utmost pain. Pain is a profound producer.
Conscience is the best teacher. Truth is the foundation of knowledge. Any knowledge devoid of truth is not knowledge, but ignorance.
Love reigns supreme in all hearts! The language of love is universal, for humans as well as other species of the earth.
Time is a treasure we often squander away! By the time we come to realise that, we are almost consumed by time.
Science and Poetry are sisters born of the same Mother.
Poets dream and the scientists bring those dreams into reality. One shows the destination, the other walks the path.
Sometimes, silence is louder than speech.
When there is love, there are dreams. Absence of love can give only nightmares!
Love hurts more often than it heals.
Our spiritual and temporal pursuits should be continually harmonised. Absence of such harmony turns all our melodious songs of life into discordant, dissonant, deafening cacophony.
We are all guinea pigs in the laboratories of the Governments. We can be free only when the frontiers disappear and the mother Earth returns to us as the one single home and habitat for all of us. Home for the humans, habitats for all other species having life.
Hope enlivens, while despair dampens our spirits.
How life behaves depends on how you look at it. Positivity always pays handsomely.
Things that we seek, lose value when we get.
Kindness is a multiplier of virtues!
Cheer up! Life has many avenues open, walk a different one for a better destination!
The beacons of a lighthouse are like light rays that a good poem emits.
All kisses do not linger; some do for a lifetime!
Those who are meagrely-worded in speech, can be eloquently fluent in their writings. The vice-versa is also true. The verbose speeches are often misleading; the writings, seldom.
Poems are love because poems come from the heart, and the heart is where love abides in abundance.
The beauty of God's creations is spread all around; from a little flower smiling out there from a forlorn crevice to the vast horizon painted in multicolors along the distant skies. It takes only discerning eyes to see and appreciate!
Love may bloom through pain but once bloomed, it's a flower of joy- soothing, pleasing and fulfilling.
Poets are a blessed group of intelligentsia, who can see things through the prism of both fantasy and reality.
Acquiescence to crime is no less a crime.
Love is the foundation of all erections!
It's not easy for an aquarium fish to survive in a deep ocean. Before jumping out, should it want to do so, it needs to attain adequate swimming skill.