To Drink I Make Poem by MAHTAB BANGALEE

I was born there
in a naive village
now this is my city
I walk on the city path

now I walk by the royal path
like the mouth of a hungry child

there suddenly the piece of onion
shows me the path of cost living

I'm in the bed-sheet of sleeping child
the biting cold of winter drives me to a winter cake

dogs are very happy with the street fire
barking they are very much in the cold of the night

withered mouth feels grief
no food for the hungry belly

the light of lamppost in the tempest
speaks with twinkling stars daily

no dream, no desire I have
I walk and observe my life

moon speaks with her beloved
and makes the dragonfly her dove

no caravansary is near to my walking path
no hard drinks I have

walking path is very long
rightly I think I need to drink

I buy the letters, the words, the sentences
by my whimsical thoughtful press
to drink I make by these all some poetry
everyday surely I pursue the life of dignity!




-December 10,2019 Chattogram