Poems by Mahfuz Al- Hossain
THEORY OF LOVE MAXIMISATION
Love doesn’t care any rules of thumb
So no ruinous room for
trade off between risk and return
in our volatile love affairs
You’re may be ultra cautious
managing your emotional portfolio
while I am least bothered about
cruel consequences fetching out of it
Shock and grief is the ultimate outcome
Nine out of ten cases we’ve noticed
from the days of prehistoric cave paintings of Altamira
That’s why it’s no harm to be imprudent my dear friends
And all provocative prognosis those are leading to
gero sum pragmatism is a kind of hidden knife
undercutting the throats of throbbing relationship
From the solid viewpoints love maximisation
let the mendicant pennies of mind to be invested further
disregarding your powerful purposive pound sterlin
JOIN THE PARTY
My dear garrulous galloping friends
across the gloomy gluttonous globe
Join the party without wasting your
remaining ruinous seconds
after all it’s a killer -survivor caged bout
played with singular biological life
programmed with domestic logic and wisdom
Don’t you know bloody blindfolded buff
The whole world is celebrating nowadays
the most astonishing Avant Garde era of COVID -19
with absolulte fanfare and fantasy
only comparable with the last few days of Pompey
Don’t know why you’re hesitant to accept the crude reality
that you’re currently enjoying its every amorous moment with
voyeuristic viral social media postings
and nascent news relating to Voodoo vaccine contests
along with post -death live shows with celebrity deadbodies
appearing publicly wearing sexiest swimsuits
powered by protruding polemic pumpkin skull
Demonically decorated with upscale scary LED lights
And sadistically sound -engineered by
spooky background scores with
crazy Amazonian blazing rage
And the very existence of the humankind
turned into a series of staggered staged comedy
prompted posthumously from backstage
by an unknown ghost writer of Chinese origin
as per actuarial scale of latest gossiping gauge…
GOLAM NABI MASTER
(Tribute to my math teacher of primary school
passed away recently)
Golam Nabi Master is gone out of
every calculations of this
melancholic mortal world
the calculations he used to teach
his small heights students in
Gorchapra Govt. primary school
for more than three decades
with empty abdomen
as an unrecognized
Assistant teacher of Math
After a long battle against
vicious cycle of poverty
finally he had to concede
against self vanquishing
mathematical tough ask of
multi stair simplifications in which
he was very much adept in
applying the classical
Yadavian formula of BODMAS
His adhesive relationship
with blackboard
chalks and dusters were
nothing less than
or equal to nuptial one
During the fortified days of
war of liberation in 1971
he used to mind over the
stock of supplies
in terms of man days
using unitary arithmetic
and head counts of
surviving freedom fighters
after a lethal combats
against Pakistani occupied forces
as a member of a
rural guerilla platoon
fighting for Independence of his
loving motherland.
Falling short of words
to paraphrase a befitting obituary
in memory of a rural mathematician
who passed away silently
But left repeated
factors of love for us
PAIR OF POEMS
An unparallel pair of poems
Trying to read simultaneously
For quite a long time
Both the poems are of almost
same length
Having same colour complexion
Dress code and hair cuts
One is a perfect prose but moves
musically with end rhymes
Another is a nice nursery rhyme
depicting prosaic realities
One is incomplete without the other
Simply overwhelmed by their simplicity
But they’re not easy going at all
That’s why my sloppy reading continues
LET THERE BE LIFE
Under this canine COVID situation
and with due respect to your
beliefs and faith based loyalty,
I would like to conclude critically
and purely on potent literary views,
you just tell me whether I am wrong
or inconsiderate to opine that
Intrusive intolerable eternal words
are ruining poetry pastorally ;
Please, bring back those
lustrous smile and youthfulness
in the title and body of the poesy
Inject real flesh and blood in stanzas
and spice it up
with sizzling erotic words naturally;
Don’t you understand that your rustic
readers are fade up with death stats;
They’re now dying for 36-22-36,
And enough you’ve fatigued
and strained them ecclesiastically;
They’re now craving for going wild ,
Let there be life full on, basically.
