Rayhan Rhyne Poems

'What remains in the folded sleeves of the winter-sky
What exists in the ceaseless gibberish of the evening-madness
Whose empathy advances from earth towards the bunches of green leaves
What keeps growing in the scribbling of a fade, rough notebook... ”
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Once Yama asked a grave-digger, for whom have you dug grave today?
The grave-digger smiles, you know-
nobody has died in our city.
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When we forget the name of a 'ghat' left behind;

When a known face cannot be recalled at any attempts;
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'Some deaths slipping away from murderous shape
beholds our conscience;
makes the night profound;
then the calm soul sleeping
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I saw an unknown musketeer in my dream;
a pair of eyes of stone followed me
from somewhere very close, nearby.
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Forgetting over and over,
his mind is a killing ground now;
he is to stand face to face with death
in a cold war everyday.
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Swimming across a river-edge,
a tiger came to a village;
a burning fire-bright tiger;
whichever house he visit
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Bringing home Rupa Tashmin,
I saw an apple and a knife on my table.
Opening the northern window,
the wild-fowl warbled in the wood,
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1.
A cat haunted a shalik, playfully. That bird dies off before the eyes of some earth-doves sitting on the tree. The moment the jerking stops, the moment death approaches- in what an unknown restraint, the cat retreats, slowly.

2.
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Once intruding into an orchard, a hungry boy
Ate up some well-ripe apples,
Moreover, he hid some more beneath his wears.
The sentry saw this theft in his dreams while drowsing.
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