Gafur

Hakikur Rahman



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.

  • Author: Hakikur Rahman (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 19th, 2022 23:11
  • Category: Family
  • Views: 6
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Comments +

Comments2

  • L. B. Mek

    (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...

  • Hakikur Rahman

    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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