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  Sep 2014 Mizanur Rahaman
Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.

In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.

So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.
D. H. (David Herbert) Lawrence

English writer D.H. Lawrence’s prolific and diverse output included novels, short stories, poems, plays, essays, travel books, paintings, translations, and literary criticism. His collected works represent an extended reflection upon the dehumanizing effects of modernity and industrialization.
In them, Lawrence confronts issues relating to emotional health and vitality, spontaneity, human sexuality and instinct. After a brief foray into formal poetics in his early years, his later poems embrace organic attempts to capture emotion through free verse.

Lawrence's opinions earned him many enemies and he endured official persecution, censorship, and misrepresentation of his creative work throughout the second half of his life, much of which he spent in a voluntary exile he called his “savage pilgrimage.”
At the time of his death, his public reputation was that of a pornographer who had wasted his considerable talents. E. M. Forster, in an obituary notice, challenged this widely held view, describing him as, “The greatest imaginative novelist of our generation.”
Later, the influential Cambridge critic F. R. Leavis championed both his artistic integrity and his moral seriousness, placing much of Lawrence's fiction within the canonical “great tradition” of the English novel.
Mizanur Rahaman Oct 2013
I'll be back my love
Its getting dark in here
And I am leaving for you
Are you waiting like me too?

The sun is hurrying to the west and
My shadow is getting smaller than I expect
My eyes counting the silence in the sky
It happens every time I say Goodbye.

Folding all my obscurity in my pocket
I promise-I'll be back,just keep looking
at the horizon, where out in Gray
the sun's kissing the shadow of the day.

Can you read between the line ?
Do you know when can I ripen the wine?
Dusty summer fields know it is true
that I'll send this green letter wrapped in blue...
Fabricated digital pain...
Mizanur Rahaman Oct 2013
I am temporarily passing through
this thin slice of space-time continuum,
Things appear and disappear like the
clouds in the sky with a rainbow.

Cant say whether I'll return
to the starting point again but
this travelling with myself is like
a never ending circles in still water.

Events are like the blinking stars in sky
but I can see the blank dots as well.
Cant make sure where I am staying right now.
Do I recognize me?I'm not sure.
traveler of time in a specific space....
Mizanur Rahaman Oct 2013
When you were a Tulip and I was a Red Rose,
I wonder how did that Red get me so close.
Now the Red is Grey and desperate to get back
the narrow stream where the ancient blood flows.

When you were my princess and I was your fool
I wonder sometimes ,how easily I could let you rule
my kingdom of heaven whose gardener cuts all it's
roses and denied the each lesson he learnt in school.

When you were the dream and I was the dreamer
the nights were young even when its close to dawn.
You used to disappear deliberately to appear again
but now I open my eyes and see you'v long gone.
Thanx to Jim Morrison....
Mizanur Rahaman Oct 2013
Since I didnt choose it,
I cant change it.
But there something bothering me today.

When things happen,reoccur,shape and
demobilize on a special day around you,
do you feel like changing the day?

And if you can change the day,
it will be something like you have
changed your birthday!!!

How does it matter anyway,
its all the same day right?
but then, why birthdays are so
special to us unlike the other days??
Mizanur Rahaman Oct 2013
The Autumn is here again with
it's wind carrying the same smell
that once upon a time I used to
fly high on my imagination.

The Fibonacci sequence starts
giving me the same kick that
used to take me to the realm of
uncertainty over my belief and disbelief.

The sky has the same arrogant sun now
that once it used to remind me of me
and my honest love and sorrow which
I manipulated to get rid of pain.

Now I promise myself that I would
be the same again ,no matter who when  
and how shattered this honesty with
the easy game called love.

My eyes will still carry the curiosity
My heart will still beat faster than I expect
The sunset will still make me feel sad
This autumn will still make me FEEL...
A mathematician's prelude!!!
Mizanur Rahaman Sep 2013
Tonight I bade him a good bye,
probably the coldest wishes
that a son can bid to his father
under this blue Autumn sky..

We both suffer from the Male Chauvinism,
and thats why we miss the cute little thing
called -Hug,which can melt the ice of even
the Himalayas and can meet the Sea.

I wish I could say that there are more
to hear than what meets his ears from the words
that I carefully choose for him and the cold
shoulders I give him in his hours of need.

May be I will never understand how does it
feel being at the other side but this much is true
that this sacrifice of holding back and hiding  
the emotions will end one day out of the blue.
Something's in the way...
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