Sk. Nurul Huda
Sk. Nurul Huda Poems
|81.||The Pen Is In My Hand||6/3/2017|
|82.||Applied Waste Land.||8/18/2016|
|83.||Poetry Will Exist||12/2/2016|
|84.||You Are The Interpreter, The Ferryman(A Tribute To Mahasweta)||7/29/2016|
|86.||Is It Poetry?||5/22/2017|
|87.||Call From My Heart.||10/29/2015|
|90.||Pre-Monsoon Children In My Village||6/1/2016|
Comments about Sk. Nurul Huda
I did not write you down in poetry
Least my readers discover you badly-
Pleading my poetic weakness;
I did not paint your face on canvas
Least my viewers devalue you-
Pleading my trembling retouch of the brush.
I wanted to make a narrow castle
Like a cocoon of a moth
And then a free fly to the Heaven.
So l plant you at the deepest Earth of my heart,
Where my lungs provide air and my blood,
As a postman, carries temperature and water.
My young-ling love sprouts to a big shade- tree
Like an umbrella over my head.
Your boughs are ...
A messaging missed call makes some measured lines
An undelivered call weaves the same as a call from thine;
Nodding both sides signaling ‘no' again brings the lighting letters
And also on one side summons only those ones better;
Thy overlapping tempt me even to defy th' pondering of hereafter
Withdrawing-phobia anew drive me to dev'ur black ink for peace-weaver;
And for couplet-
O! My writer you shape me- a press printerette.