Poems by Kamrul Islam
The Mystic Cliff Of My Soul
When you sprouted from the dark region
of my staggering blood,
I looked at the mystic cliff of my soul
oscillated by the windy rays of modern Caliban.
You picked up the myth of Sisyphus
from around the innumerable casualties,
Your burning eyes lost sleeps and dreams,
You forgot how people love each other,
You bent upon the mercy of roasted wings
of wisdom that lead you to my corpse
that you saw some years ago
on a desolate sea shore speaking to itself.
When you first opened your innocent eyes,
Could you remember what you saw around?
Your eye-brows smiled at the gentle breeze
and the world wrapped the smell of holy creepers
and the black rains messed up the secret music.
Only some coos you humbly brought
to my dead body to console my silent soul…
The blood and its inborn faiths
A mystery mountain, rhythmic and melodic
peacefully swaying in the wind. Two wild ducks
changing in the mountain, a fountain painted
on the edge of a blue stone, servitude breaks.
The bends of their sonic bodies, the fears
climbing on the ignited freedom, grassy and fret.
The hill in the guise of a ghost playing alone –
the window of the mild misery, the mountain weeps
no mystery can protect the honesty of poetry
standing by the window I see . Inside the window
a dream-clad lady with the adolescence of a wild goose
with the flesh of their flesh sleeping.
The enchanting sound of a fountain drawing
The blood and its inborn faiths…