Poems by Kamrul Islam
I live in the midst of suspicion
and separation in a house
where the ladder of refuge is broken
by the indulgence of love-lore.
The passages are curved
towards the compilation,
and look like the waterhen’s secret bed
in the forest.
The sun, the dead rivers
gay over the lost waves, my return
is groping into the white darkness.
Is she still sitting on the horizon
with fallacy of love? Dead rivers
with the memories of kingfishers,
blooming twilight and its distractions
make the arrangement mess.
Today, I am drawing
on the canvass of rain
your crazy mind with sadness and humility.
In the insignificant chorus,
the vegetation stops
in the tears of squirrels.
The rivers and fish
forget to go back to primitive cave,
and the winds Just falling
on the shores of the broken night.
Let’s not win but return,
not-see intense darkness!
You are the cruellest heart,
a crazy damsel sowing
the seeds of sorrows on the fragile eyes
of a novice boatman yet to learn
the language of water…
Wings Of Cloudy Dreams
…a flock of doves,
and the coos,
the clouds and rains in the valley-
a craft of embracing death,
The shadow of a evergreen ghost
burns the race of tomorrow.
Your good days go by
the distant moonlight,
the spurs flying far off the shore,
I only see half-dead palm trees
I see blood-dust, secret ashram
in the shadow of cosmetic evening.
Wings of cloudy dreams
launch the dawn,
The serenades humanize
the black winds
in tune with the feathers of doves.
Gradual purgation shapes
the crazy veins,
when rattling bones leaning towards
the green silence…