Plant A Corpse (Poem)

You plants the corpse behind your house,

In the garden full of lavender.

You think nobody can smell the rotten skin and flesh.
Even if, by mistaken, your doggy dig it up with it’s nails.

You plants the corpse behind your house,
In the garden as a bed of plants.
You think that will make people mistaken as you plants many trees,
perhaps some beautiful flowers.

Please let me know, Does the tree grow up?
Does the flower bloom with beautiful colours?

Oh baby, you just plant me there
And never can forget ever.

I don’t blame you.
May be happy a little bit, as I always the opposite you.

Beside forgetting me,

you choose to suffer.

You suffer and remember me in your mind whole the time.

Oh baby, You kill me with a little knife.

Oh baby, I suffer for a while.

Oh baby, but You choose to suffer for a long, long time

besides forgetting me….

– Me.

Inspired by Eliot’s The Waste Land -“That corpse you planted last year in your garden “


A Dead Person

It was only a dream

And you left me eventually in the end.

It was only an illusion

And you cracked my mind in a way like fragile land.

It was only an imagination

And you scattered my limbs hither and thither.

It was only a memory

And you make me forget my existence.

It was my life

For which, I, now mourn everyday,

Cry like crazy without express any mournful expression.

It was my life

And I loose my control over it with each day passing, lost my passion.

It was my life

For which, I spent my values to make it perfect

And now, without you,

I am nothing

But a dead person.


The Winter Heart

I still never see the raindrops fall from the cold eyes.

I have never seen the ocean flow in the winter heart

Always the hard mind struggles with flurry wind

As I assume and hope for heart as kind,

And Something good will happen in the heart of them in the end.

Always I try to open my eyes to look behind the lids of white.

The blankness there, reminds the whole dissemble, hiding the truth of emotion,

Where always try to find the tenderness in the heart of cone.

My heart is in moan.

-Sajia. ☺

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I have come after the hunters

In English-

I have come after the hunters

Not the hunters coming after me.

I won’t give them the chance

To soak in blood, dropping from deer

And to break the wings of any birds,

Or, to dither of any shivering eyes

from the fear of the sound of guns…

Coming after the hunters myself,

Not the hunters coming after me.

– Sajia Afri

In Bangla-

আমি শিকারির পিছু নিয়েছি
শিকারি আমার নয়।

হরিণের শরীর চুঁয়ে পড়া রক্তে
আর ভিজতে দেব না তাদের হাত,

পাখির ডানা দেব না ভাঙ্গতে,


গুলির আওয়াজে দেব না ভয়ে কাঁপতে কোনো ভীরু চোখ।

আমিই শিকারীর পিছু নিয়েছি,
শিকারি আমার নয়।
-সাজিয়া ☺

What’s your life’s title?

Obviously everyone’s story is different. If you find any similarities,you also will know soon the dissimilarities as well. Everyone’s the ultimate life theory is different. The moments, the point of views, the scenery and angle of the same thing is different for different people. The feelings and emotions; the realization or thoughts are different. So the titles of the life of everyone’s are different.