REHANUL HOQUE - POEMS

Born in the village of Majkhuria in Bangladesh, Rehanul, a bilingual poet started writing poems at an early age. Although he has interest in all the genres of literature, his first and foremost love is poetry. Falling ‘upon the thorns of life’ as Rehanul takes refuge in the lap of nature, so also he seeks pleasure in poetry. He finds no antagonism between art and science. Rehanul believes beauty is religion and poetry can build a habitable earth by promoting beauty and truth together through the appreciation of beauty. He dreams of a future ruled only by love.
 

​Passion

​Indifferent as
An electron changes orbit
Particles lose way from massive explosion
Gaseous molecules are aimless
Sky indulges in ficklesome spree and
An aroma larger than life floating me away
 
Bearing the foresight of intense darkness in mind
To light the way
Living under the spell of an enigmatic horizon
To purify the inner self,
My entity madly chases after a shadow-
The shadow true to yourself
The shadow you cherished for life.
 

​Nothing Makes Happy

​Now a day nothing makes me happy
Bunch of roses, sweet sunshine, water drops
Grey desert, cold breeze and green land
Beauty pageant, glistening stars----- nothing
 
Walking across the valley I met a peddler
He said: Look over there
Earlier hills were not like these
They looked like brides wearing vermilion
Music could be heard from that desolate heath
At midnight there were meteor showers
Breaking silence a bird used to shriek
Now nothing makes the peddler happy
 
A bee buzzing around complained:
The star has fallen from its orbit
Long since there is no rain
Flowers bloom in the arid desert
Followers are decorating a coffin with flower
Now nothing makes the bee happy
 
A bird was flying nearby
The bird told:
In the coming winter many princes will visit this place
Some Houbara bustard live in those tall trees
The locality will be developed
There will be avenues, stadiums and large shopping malls
Now nothing makes the bird happy
 
Few steps ahead
A small stone on wayside looked sad
‘Stone, what caused you such pain?’
The stone replied mournfully-
We are three siblings
Now the older one resides in the White house
People say she is happy
The stair that His Excellency steps down every morning
She enhances its glamour
The middle one is in Aleppo
Now she is too old to be recognized
And the youngest stone herself is too lonely
Now nothing makes the small stone happy
 
A gust of wind blew over
The wind whispered:
Do you know once wind and water were true lovers-
‘Single entity, single soul’
Many nations, many civilizations through rise and fall
Bear witness to their historic love,
Today the age-old civilization declares
The share of water is the hottest topic for politics
Wind and water became separated
Now nothing makes the wind happy.

​Appearance of Man

​The appearance of man remains an wonder over centuries.
 
Man!
Anyone coming  across becomes sceptical of
feeling being originated from the evolution of a complex cell,
beauty emerging from a scheme by molecule and atom.
The twisted horns of a wild Mercor though amazing at look,
twisted reasoning fails to prove so
twisted jilipi is sweet but twisted talks are disgusting
None is acquainted with the alphabet of goat
that of man sounds tricky 
Is this the reason behind their names becoming
goat and man respectively?
-A difficult question to answer.


Some man’s face encourages to think about Urenus plunged in darkness
for twenty one years,
The sight of some man is associated with the raging lust of Aouroch
Someone dances like tailless monkeys of the family of Prokunsui
Someone is in charge of fostering a primitive stage like the Silverback gorilla
The hair of some men grows as long as unbridled Mastang, hired for race
The belly of some is sexy enough as Huiuk, idol of sex
The tip of the head of someone is elephantlike-
they are  the beings  entrusted with the task of infecting clear thoughts
And some are husbands with universal demand of the status of god.
 
 
The food habit of some men reminds one as dung beetle moving in swarms
for food, with an acute sense of smell these insects excel on earth
and someone’s speciality lies in law of indomitable energy,
they feast on  bread and rubbish equally
to heart’s content.
 
Seeing someone with a grin, I am haunted by the dreadful teeth of Smiloden
Which, in an endeavour to escape by asking asylum to human community,
I am rejected
The civil society excommunicated me long ago for declaring fiddlehead fern
and its  wonderful   bloom, more fascinating  a work of art than
the too complex twists and turns of human intestine
Therefore, humans aptly branded me unfit.
The language of man is unparalleled allowing him the liberty to address a goat as
goat;   goats also do not regard man as man, rather an awkward fellow.