TASNEEM HOSSAIN, majoring in English Language and Literature is a multi-lingual poet from Bangladesh. She is also a translator, columnist, fiction and op-ed writer, educator and trainer.
TASNEEM HOSSAIN
Her writings appear in different anthologies and dailies of different countries like: Human Rights Art Movement, Southern Arizona Press, MockingOwl Roost, Setu, Pen magazine, Valiant Scribe, Prodigy Magazine(USA), Borderless Journal (Singapore), Discover Mississauga and More-eBook, Mindtalkers (Canada), Dark Thirty Poetry Publishing, Krishnochura (UK), Polis Magazino, Homo Universal (Greece) Worvid and Homagi International Magazines (Indonesia), INNSÆI Journal, Cultural Reverence, MicroPoetry Cosmos,The Fatehpur Resolution, TAAHIRA E – ZINE, Khwahish (India), EDAS Chronicle, The Dhaka Literature, An Ekushey Anthology, Dhaka Prokash 24.com, bdnews24.com, The Daily Star, The Business Standard, Asian Age Online, Daily Observer(Bangladesh).
Her publications: The Pearl Necklace, Floating Feathers and Grass in Green (poetry) and Split and Splice (articles).
A faculty of Chittagong Engineering University, currently, she is the director of Continuing Education Centre (HRD). As a trainer she has imparted trainings to more than 27,000 mid-level to top management staff of different UN agencies, MNCs, NGOs and govt. and private organisations.
She runs an international poetry writing project and group named Life in Lyrics.
She also worked as newscaster, commentary reader and radio presenter in radio Bangladesh for 10 years and directed dramas like Shakespeare’s ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’
TIME DIMENSION
Standing on the beach,
It strikes my mind how nature can teach;
The horizon, the sea and sky all symbolize,
Time present, time past and time future. They are all so alike.
Prisoned on the horizon of present we stand,
Tumbling and tossing on which past and future remain.
Time present drowns and vanishes in the deep sea,
Just like the drop of water which we cannot see.
The past is the flowing water of the sea,
Moving away never again to be seen;
We can think and feel the past but never touch it again;
As if it never had been and our past has been all in vain.
Future is the vast sky above day and night,
Sometimes foreboding sometimes clear and bright;
We can only gaze and think,
What in future for us awaits.
Past is something we cannot change,
Future, we can only hope and wait;
From the past we can learn our mistakes,
Future is in our hands, though it is abstract,
If we know how to act and create.
Present is the only time that we can act,
So never should we let it waste and be very apt;
Act fast to make the future that is best.
The future you build will be present tomorrow,
The present today you live will be past tomorrow;
Once again it will be future tomorrow.
Past present and future change,
And are gone, in a flash, in a blink;
Past present and future all exist in sync.
LOVE PRISTINE
Ah! There you come
With the red rose in your hand;
Tears in eyes, you put it on my grave and stand;
Sitting on the tombstone, I gaze at you.
Each day I pray that you can see me sitting, our love renewed.
The smell of the perfume on your shirt makes me languor,
Still you wear my favorites ‘Straight to Heaven’ or ‘Cartier’.
You always dressed immaculate,
Now you come totally disheveled.
Perhaps, you think I cannot see and care,
But I sit here on the grave, my feet are bare.
The flower you bring to the grave I cannot relinquish,
Spreads so much beauty and fragrance I cannot resist.
Seldom did you have time when I was alive,
To bring me those heavenly flowers sublime.
Though I knew you always did care.
Your undying love you would always declare.
Now that I cannot wear those in my hair,
Why do you bring fresh red roses and leave those here?
Perhaps you bring a fresh rose every day for me my dear,
An act of repentance to cheer me up and be near;
Remember those bygone days and say a prayer.
My love for you was always pure
I did not want anything from you for sure.
People say love is at its peak in your hay days;
I know love grows stronger with time and with old age.
It pains me to see you come to me every day
You know, dear love, I visit you when you sleep and pray.
Sit by your side and ruffle your hair,
Sometimes you awake and only stare;
Thinking it is only windy air.
I wish you could see that it’s me with you there.
Rain, thunder or heavy shower you come right at six.
Scorching sun or snow you come, not a single minute you miss.
You sit by me long one hour, reluctant to go and leave.
The caretaker asks you to forget and live.
I can’t bear to see you come here in pain and limp,
Sit and cry till your eyes are dim.
I sit beside you; I know it’s not fair.
Connecting two worlds on the two sides,
My love, our love transcends age and time.
Our love has conquered even death itself,
It’s bliss to have such love pristine.
UNTOLD LOVE
Eyes to eyes, gaze to gaze,
On the subway train they met.
Smiling and nodding heads,
Greetings exchanged.
Dark almond eyes, peach like lips,
Swan like neck beneath the fair face; a dimple, deep on the cheek;
Long red coat and a black scarf on the neck;
Black pants and red stiletto to match;
A pretty sight, rare to contest.
Sea blue eyes, full lips and a sharp pointed little nose;
Navy blue tie on white long shirt tied very loose.
Denim jeans with oxfords with pointed toes;
Strongly built with a stubborn square face.
Freely one can die on his broad big chest.
Train comes to a stop
Towards destinations they all bolt.
Both come and go, commute every day.
Flickering eyes searching every walkway.
Passions arise in each one’s heart at night,
Memory of that sight has become their plight.
Days, months and years have passed,
Emotions alive, everyday surroundings are glassed,
With lasting memories,
Fifteen years of life crawled past.
Wrinkled blue and dark circled almond eyes,
Piercing glances exchanged, suspended sighs.
Staring and gazing painful secrets in dreams,
Love never breathed, must now only be buried and sealed.
Destinations reached,
They walk away with trembling old weak feet.
Prepared Angela Kosta Academic, journalist, writer, poet, essayist, literary critic, editor, translator.
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