Poem Collections - Various Authors

Bondhura, shobai ekhane tomader fav kobita post koro
Kobita section onek khujlam ei dhoroner kobitar thread ache kina. pelam na...tai khullam....



THINGS CHEAPLY HAD - Taslima Nasrin

In the market nothing can be had as cheaply as women.

If they get a small bottle of colour for their feet,
they spend their nights sleepless for sheer joy;
If they get a few bars of soap to scrub their skin
and some scented oil for their hair,
they become so submissive
that they scoop out chunks of their flesh
to be sold in the flea market twice a week.
If they get a jewel for their nose,
they lick feet for seventy days or so,
a full three and a half months
if it's a single striped sari.
Even a mangy cur of the house barks now and then,
but over the mouths of women cheaply had
there's a lock,
a golden lock.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” from The Poetry of Robert Frost, edited by Edward Connery Lathem. Copyright 1923, © 1969 by Henry Holt and Company, Inc., renewed 1951, by Robert Frost. Reprinted with the permission of Henry Holt and Company, LLC.

Source: The Random House Book of Poetry for Children (1983).


If—

by Rudyard Kipling

(‘Brother Square-Toes’—Rewards and Fairies)

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!




Source: A Choice of Kipling's Verse (1943).

awesome thread MINA; i never really appreciated poetry till the later part of my schooling, but by then i had forgotten the vast majority of poetry that i had learnt and read of in school

LOL nice one mina sis thx...
sis okhane lekha asa Taslima Nasrin...
Ami dekhsi Taslim Nasrin....
lol hahahaha
ami mone korachi amader boiragir poem
hhahahaha

Ami o dibo amio dibo amar fev poem but kivabe dei keu ki bolbe amake ami camelia kothai pai Robindro Nath er mina khuje dao amake ami o dibo .nice Thread.

eita amar collection-e ache mone hoi...ami khuje ber kore post kore dibo...

"Keu Kotha Rakhe Ni"



Sunil Gongopaddhay....





Keu kotha rakhe ni....
Tetrish bochor katlo keu kotha rakheni...
Chele belay ek bostumi hothat tar agomoni gan thamiye bollo.....
Sukla dadoshir din Ontora tuku shuniye jabo....
Tarpor koto chondrovuk omabossha kete gelo...
Tobuo Bostumi r elo na...
Pochish bochor protikkhay achi...

Mama barir majhi Nader Ali bolechilo....
Boro hou Dada Thakur...
Tomake ami tin prohorer Bil dekhate nie jabo...
Shekhane podmo fuler mathay sap r vromor khela kore....
Nader Ali ami r koto boro hobo???
Amar matha ei ghorer chad fure...
Akash sporsho korle tarpor tumi amay tin prohorer bil dekhabe???

Ektao Royal Guli kinte parini kokhono...
Lati Lojjench dekhiye dekhiye chusheche Loskor Barir chelera...
Bhikharir moto Choudhuryder Gate e dariye dekhechi vetore Rash Utshob...
Obirol Ronger dharar moddhe shuborno kongkon pora forsha Romonira koto rokom amode hesheche...
Amar dike tara fireo takayni...

Baba amar kadhe hat rekhe bolechilen, Dekhish Amrao...

Baba ekhon Ondho...
Amader dekha hoyni kichui...
Sei Royal guli, Sei Lati Lojjench, Sei Raj Utshob...
Amake keu firiye debe na...

Buker moddhe Shugondhi Rumal rekhe Boruna bolechilo....
Jedin amay shottikarer Bhalo Bashbe...
Sedin amar Bukeo erokom Atorer Gondho hobe....
Bhalo Bashashar Jonno ami hater muthoei Jibon niyechi...
Duronto Sharer chokhe bedhechi Lal Kapor...
Bissho Shongshar tonno tonno kore khuje enechi Eksho Aat ti Nil podmo...

Tobuo kotha rakheni Boruna...
Ekhon Tar buke shudhui Mangsher Gondho....
Ekhono she je kono Narii...

Keu kotha rakheni....
Tetrish Bochor katlo....
Keu kotha Rakheni....

I AM RESTLESS
by: Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941)

• • AM restless. I am athirst for far-away things.
    My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance.
    O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute!
    I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore.
    
    I am eager and wakeful, I am a stranger in a strange land.
    Thy breath comes to me whispering an impossible hope.
    Thy tongue is known to my heart as its very own.
    O Far-to-seek, O the keen call of thy flute!
    I forget, I ever forget, that I know not the way, that I have not the winged horse.
    
    I am listless, I am a wanderer in my heart.
    In the sunny haze of the languid hours,
    what vast vision of thine takes shape in the blue of the sky!
    O Farthest end, O the keen call of thy flute!
    I forget, I ever forget, that the gates are shut everywhere in the house where I dwell alone!

"I am restless" is reprinted from The Gardener. Rabindranath Tagore. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1913.







The Kiss

Lips' language to lips' ears.
Two drinking each other's heart, it seems.
Two roving loves who have left home,
pilgrims to the confluence of lips.
Two waves rise by the law of loveto break and die on two sets of lips.
Two wild desires craving each othermeet at last at the body's limits.
Love's writing a song in dainty letters,
layers of kiss-calligraphy on lips.
Plucking flowers from two sets of lips
perhaps to thread them into a chain later.
This sweet union of lipsis the red marriage-bed of a pair of smiles.

~Rabindranath Tagore

Shamsur Nahar





AGGRESSION - taslima nasreen

Human nature is such
That if you sit, they'll say, "No, don't sit."
If you stand, "What's the matter? Walk!
And if you walk, "Shame on you, sit down.!

If you so much as lie down, they'll order, "Get up."
If you don't lie down, no respite, " Lie down."

I'm wasting my days getting up and sitting down.
If I'm dying right now, they speak up, "Live."
If they see me living, who knows when
they'll say, "Shame on you. Die!"

In fear, I secretly go on living.

taslima nasreen

BORDER

I’m going to move ahead.
Behind me my whole family is calling,
My child is pulling my sari-end,
My husband stands blocking the door,
But I will go.
There’s nothing ahead but a river.
I will cross.
I know how to swim,
but they won’t let me swim, won’t let me cross.

There’s nothing on the other side of the river
but a vast expanse of fields,
But I’ll touch this emptiness once
and run against the wind, whose whooshing sound
makes me want to dance.
I’ll dance someday
and then return.

I’ve not played keep-away for years
as I did in childhood.
I’ll raise a great commotion playing keep-away someday
and then return.

For years I haven’t cried with my head
in the lap of solitude.
I’ll cry to my heart’s content someday
and then return.

There’s nothing ahead but a river,
and I know how to swim.
Why shouldn’t I go?

I’ll go.