Gafur
His home is in an unknown village
Far away from the city.
He had two acres of land
And two cows for the plough
Plant the land of others with his own hand
So starts with the life.
Youth has seen many dreams
Never got completed
Still did not stop walking
Life has not stopped yet.
Now at old age the body is lenient
The house, cows, plough have become old too
Everything is lean and thin.
In this way a life has gone
with no marks
The hard days have been passed without any border
The way was dense.
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Author:
Hakikur Rahman (
Offline) - Published: January 19th, 2022 23:11
- Category: Family
- Views: 6
Offline)
Comments2
(such a poignant portrait you painted
with your words
thanks for sharing
and inspiring my little scribbled reply, below
forgive my elongated response
just got carried away, as usual)..
the fog of life, worded poetic:
some
toil and strive, in cyclical ignorance
doing what their forefather's did
and hoping, wishing
will be enough
to grant them an escape
or their deliver them
their just rewards, in life..
but
existence is too cruel, to leave too chance
even now
even in this old beaten down, stage of life
we must shuffle, a little closer
to whatever it is, we think
can make us happier
or offer solace;
Never, surrender
never let your ending, miniscule
our worth
'We' all, belong
to those whims of Fate
as equally
as those born
with silver spoons
and kingdom's to inherit,
till someone returns from that six feet divide
to let us know, it all ends
with that final blink
we must, reach
for what meaning we can glean
for this gift of breath, we were given...
Delighted to read the fine composition of yours. Yes, in reality those poor souls toils for their entire life, but never been recognized. Thanks to you too for sharing your thoughts. Best regards.
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