Malequl Hoque

Rookie (sunamgonj)

Biography of Malequl Hoque

Malequl Hoque. Poet, He has three books of poem. He's editing a little meg called GANDAM.

`Malequl Hoque is a praised and absorbed sewer, who has scattered his seeds to make a harvest of anti-traditionalism soughing a new horizon of contemporary Bangla poetic conception. Claiming himself as the offspring of divine solitude, he keeps himself at a state of a modest giver of newer genius and a rioter against his own self. Vocabulary is a perhaps an art which he has no use or need representing his conceived theory. His art of expression has deepened his pain not to be felt clearly to others. But we should envy his perfection of being impatient and full of longings for the spontaneous over flow of free thinking. We are also surprised that egoism is far away from him. Rather he collected his illusions as a voluntary beggar through the melancholic echo of the springs, breezes, oasis’s, deserts or the vine yards.

He is the terrible one who carries in himself the beast of prey and has no choice expect the revolt against the so called divinity. To search for his own self by analyzing every phase of sub-conscious state around him is his characteristic to be noticed eagerly. He is the seer of his own death which will be caused by nothing but his own devotion only.

He has entered in the worldly life in the decade of seventy in 19th century in Moinpur, of Sunamgonj district in Bangladesh. His academic career was hampered several times as he was pondering over the meaninglessness of the traditional academic process through his whole life. But with the best nostrils to breathe the freedom of neurosis that he inherited from his father, who is dragging the dreadful cry of distress for his lifelong period, our poet is continually smiling deeper inspiring by the flame of eternal bliss. So, he has achieved the self-surpassing spirit of gravity and he is obviously all alone… '
(From flap) Updates

Nothingness Means Beauty

The veins and visions-soul have disappeared too long ago
Emptiness enriches emptiness We are so much purified
What a painful ache-though I wish for something now and then
The breeze will blow the fire will be dimmed with passion
My eyes will be slept the birds eye view sighs
The whole universe is burning with a flame
The wings of fire is only for the depressed bride
The sighs of the corns, the bleeding hearts are seasonal bird
Complexity is complex enough tormented soul is alo

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