Poetry

AFP photo

By

Tamanna Hossain

The Waiting Room

I sit at the corner in a half broken bench, wandering in my mind is the loneliness of this place. People passing by and staying for a while, when their call is heard they are leaving in a hie. What is that they are all chasing forever? Is it the best seat that will comfort them for long? The nameless voyage will end someday, and then they will know it’s not the real way.

No one pays heed to what they are supposed to do, but it is sad when they will apprehend, it will be the time for them to crack. They know not why they are here, what is the purpose of this voyage?

For those it is a journey of  severe calamity who know not the easy path to the final land. The burdened soul will look forth for the place to brighten, and then there are those whose journey would be easy like pie and garland of roses will be thereby.

Suffering and pain will come to an end and there will be a new beginning but only for those who were not in a hurry to take the first train. Those busy with this temporary and immaterial world will be left behind to enter the eternal land of tranquility.

Mind gets back its pace and realize I’m in the same place, awaiting the call with impatience, but where is my position in the queue if I had taken this world as a mere waiting room?

Nights

Nights, sometimes I pass them in delusion and sometimes in despair.

Sometimes colorful imagination and fantasies takeover, but sometimes the dark clouds of sorrow empower.

Nights, sometimes take me to the shallow streams in heaven, and sometimes the hell fire is woven.

Tamanna Hossain

Tamanna Hossain is a spontaneous optimist. She enjoys working with a colorfully diverse group of people. Challenges and fun are important ingredients of her areas of interest. She appreciates receiving new stimulation, meeting new people, and continuously collecting unique experiences. She is an academic and loves to play with words in her leisure.