Poem
Mir Mahfuz Ali
An Old Photograph
An Old Photograph
An Old Photograph
The wide-eyed boy,holds a split star
in the black holes
of his eyes.
Shy. Unsmiling.
Gazing out from the old frame
into the new world.
His small round hands
in the pocket of his shorts.
Dark hair brittle as a shoe-brush.
Flat-toed Bata shoes shiny.
Socks folded around neat-ankles.
Standing stiff like a pillar,
before the rushing stream
of his many rolling senses,
the muddy meetings
of rising waters
in the chaotic city.
Time in slow drops.
His mother is not with him
to lament the theme of change
that hums in the shadows
at the end of his boredom.
Bright light winces off the walls
disturbing his safety.
He never suspects his picture
will not fit daintily
into the spectrum
of his family album.
A pattern is broken.
It is his last photo,
but the camera keeps clicking
every year without him
in the dark lens.
© 2007, Mir Mahfuz Ali
Publisher: First published on PIW,
Publisher: First published on PIW,
Mir Mahfuz Ali
(Bangladesh, 1958)
Mir Mahfuz Ali was born in Dhaka, Bangladesh in 1958. He studied at Essex University and the City Literary Institute in London. He dances, acts and has worked as a male model and a tandoori chef. As a performer, he is renowned for his extraordinary voice – a rich, throaty whisper brought about by a Bangladeshi policeman trying to silence the singing of anthems during a public anti-war demonstra...
Poems
Poems of Mir Mahfuz Ali
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An Old Photograph
The wide-eyed boy,holds a split star
in the black holes
of his eyes.
Shy. Unsmiling.
Gazing out from the old frame
into the new world.
His small round hands
in the pocket of his shorts.
Dark hair brittle as a shoe-brush.
Flat-toed Bata shoes shiny.
Socks folded around neat-ankles.
Standing stiff like a pillar,
before the rushing stream
of his many rolling senses,
the muddy meetings
of rising waters
in the chaotic city.
Time in slow drops.
His mother is not with him
to lament the theme of change
that hums in the shadows
at the end of his boredom.
Bright light winces off the walls
disturbing his safety.
He never suspects his picture
will not fit daintily
into the spectrum
of his family album.
A pattern is broken.
It is his last photo,
but the camera keeps clicking
every year without him
in the dark lens.
An Old Photograph
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