Aftab Alam Poems

Potters used the wheel
And made the lovely pot
The greatest invention of past
Still we are wheeling
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Killing-killing-killing everywhere there is killing
Flood of blood, tears and cries without healing
Gun and the powder are the fruit of festive time
For cruelty they act, for religion they lay mine!
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With my pleasant winged thought, was somewhere?
Cuckoo, the black bird that just sang the sweetest song!
Listened and got hurt, now with unpleasant mind, here
Awake with my unfathomable disgust; I am not wrong!
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Joy- joy, enjoy; yeah,
Joy- joy, enjoy
Your prayers,
Your worship, ahoy!
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Freedom is like a rose with fragrance
It is the word with complete balance
Freedom tree bears fruit of tolerance
Freedom is killed by the fool's igrorance,
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Sweet language wrapped with literature
Thou keep o silky Bangladesh, thy Soft
Nature, still struggling, to get rid of poverty
Yet when you were hatched with liberty
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Let’s light candles into the heart of darken hut
Wait, it is made of sandal, door, don’t thud, shut
All blinded with thunder, a cloud of blunder
A dark shadow round us with a tam o ‘shanter
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One star,
Very far,
Seven post man,
One great bear
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Love Treasure

Long ago a King lost the war
Almost all has been killed
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Glittering, glimmering, gleaming with glamour,
Darkest night brightly decorated; earth shimmer (s)
Heaven's necklace with pendant; the moon,
Is seen nowhere, a moon less night; a lovely boon,
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