Shine or shower, we bend forever
Bend to see if the path talks to us
Bend to earn a nickel with a foreign face

Oh! How it bleeds, to walk on the gravel
The stones are crushed to confess their stories
they could be frozen tears of
my colleagues and my fellow countrymen
Who tramped here before!

How it pains, to sleep on flour, which is not mine
Lack of family affection makes us half humans
It has been an infinite urge to
Fly away on the wings of breeze
Just to escape the scorching sun’s torturous smile

We extinguish the fire of anger
No fire, but the flames in the breast
Endure between ambition and desire.

We see light in soldering electrodes everyday
But can’t see the bright eyes of our children for ages
Oh how it torments, a faithful heart that’s broken
To avenge the sad tale of labourers on a foreign soil

For us who experience all the ravines of Life
Night returns with dark chocolates
We continue to lift and bend ourselves
With fragrant bosoms near our feet

Theme : We get to see many  labourers working in the Middle East and East Asian countries like Singapore, Brunei etc. These workers, as construction labourers or as grass cutters, toil a lot on the road exposing themselves to Sun and shower. Most of them are from India, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka etc. It pains to see them working under very unfavourable conditions. This poem is an appreciation of their commitment to look after their family back home.

I have walked all them roads you said me I shouldn't,

I have felt all them things you said I shouldn't.


I have talked all them things you told me I shouldn't do,

To talk about.

I have felt all themthings you told me I shouldn't think,

To write about.


Now, in these woods.

Where the paths lead me to everywhere.

Astounded and blissful.

I rest to stand, till you join me again, my Love.

Anything doesn't Come
Today all known roads are blank
All have gone away
Have devoured into
An expanding vast spaces

Beside the Southern window
Sun doesn't laugh anymore
Even you haven't sung no more
As the lonely pied crested Cuckoo

Yet, what makes hope of the birds
When they flying away in the sky,
What prompts this metaphor
Don't understand the pen
Don't know the mind
Not hear the time

When getting out of the lost in the dark
As if there is no space
Between known and unknown
Coal is the same as diamonds
But how beautiful thee songs are!
Spreading light in the darkness

Fascinating with its Form
Wondering to touch
To Catch in the dark
Unclogging the thousands wings of imagination
Bringing a bed of roses
Have laid on the grass
Passing the time to gossip
With the hidden Stars
Under the open Sky

At the end of a thousand
Miles away
Whose face popped
Don't Speak
Don't Laugh
How pensive the faded Classic face!

@Musfiq us shaleheen