The Defiant of Poetry My Term
The Defiant of Poetry My Term
By Quamruzzaman
Many times, at alone, I was struck by the poser- what is poetry? To me, this is a baffling figure on a jigsawpuzzle that I have to match on my own. And Yes, I did it- not in this world! Recently I've got it again, very personally, in a close tete-a.-tete deal, then I was tolled- You can not write poem, but build it! Here comes the question- how does poem build? To answer the question, I've to say- I don't know. But how is poetry getting done? Many bodies tell that poetry is a form of illusion. In contrast with this, I want to say- poetry is something like meditation, a form of prayer. As all intramendance appeals disperse when we muse in true meditation, this is the same that we enter a virtual mysterious world of the finest beauty when we get in poetry. Perhaps this is the building place of poetry. I wonder to see the beauty, variety and colors in nature then my pleasure knows no bound. In rainy season, on country side, I discover a wonder world at marshy lands which looks so starry with blooming white water-lily that magic spells my eyes and makes me come to feel poetry in its beauty. In a dead noon, I stopped to a singing bird on a tree branch; it lost in its own in song then I observed a unique pattern of creation making so beguile in its song and body. I tried to understand the concentration in which the bird sings. I was pleased by the beauty of nature, when the charm and luxury of woman pushed me on the other end of mystery. Then I often seem woman is the secret gate to all beauties of the world.
The famous musician Bismillah Khan during his Dhaka visit said Open your heart to feel music, if you don't, you don't feel the music! I think here sense might be the hard desideratum for opening up the heart. I want to say to know how to discover yourself in the ultimate limit of sense. May be from the quest for yourself through nature, beauties and niceties, the heart becomes ringing. Then intelligence remains no longer active. I want to attribute a greater value to ringing up of heart rather than intelligence. So, naturally I enter my own world of sounding, lyric purest verses. Would it be very wrong if I say it is not me but God that these verses come from? This way I feel the tense of all exquisite splendors, peoples noises, and passion in relations are gathering in me. Let me call it romance. I proceed to understand it but something defies my way, then I try over and over again and through this, I look for help from verses.
