Christmas poem By Mahfuz Al-Hossain

A CURSED YEAR

Once all the roads towards our village home Garchapra were lost in the deepest mud of the Maoist semiotics due to indiscriminate exchange of bullets among Sarbahara outfits

Defaced dead bodies of our distant cousins were kept lying under the open sky in broad day light for few days as villagers were very much scared of getting closer to those corpses due to enforced nihilism

Coincidentally, In this unattractive atypical autumn I see so many rusted yellow leaves are dropping down altogether like dewdrops of despair here and there

What a cursed year this is As lovely human -flowers of different colours and fragarances are falling down on the ground like intermittent raindrops of November due to unknown pain and anguish

Photo courtesy : Modern Arts -- Paintings of the 20th Century

Admin