Tareq Samin- Bangladesh

Tareq Samin- Bangladesh



Tareq Samin is a Bangladeshi Author. Born in Tangail, in 1977.He writers in Bengali Language. His first book ‘The Lost Poet’ is a collection of 49 poems. His second book ‘Nonviolent Revolutionaries’ is a collection of 14 Short Stories. His Third book is a Novel ‘Shahrin-Suja’.


In personal life he is an Information Technology businessman. He was a serious bookworm from his early teenage.His first poem published in 1993. From 1997 to 2014 he did not write at all.  His first book “The lost poet” has this grief of staying out of writing for 17 years. He came back as an author in2015.


Nature, Love, spirituality and human values are his writings main subjects.


His hobbies are reading, writing and traveling.


Author website: www.tareqsamin.com/welcome




Twirl of civilization


One hundred years ago,

To promote the message of socialist equality

That young man was killed in police firing;

Hundred years later after his rebirth

For  people’s right  of religion and freedom of expression

He was hanged till death by the communist.


Thousand years ago the spiritual man

who lighten the dark society

by the teachings of great religions

On that day, his beheaded head, scarred body

Was found for talking against religious extremist.


The young man who ignored the bitter cold

of the Himalayas

spends twenty years in meditation,

His body was found yesterday

Due to modernization of thoughts.

The young women who was a decade in prison

for democracy

Was shot for free thinking at her last life.

Because of inhuman’s

Socialism becomes dictatorial system,

Looting became a democratic system

Dishonesty becomes religion,

Freedom of speech is used to spread hatred

Everything because of power greedy people.


Those who gave their lives for the noble ideology

They are all great man, dignified.

Monopolization of their ideology, selling their name

greedy politicians take advantage from it.


Thus, the good from the evil, evil from the good

Turn around in the world continued

civilized became savage due to prejudice and ignorance.


Author’s Death


Death could not lose you

You are still alive in your writing,

Every death is separation and bereavement

But the death of author to readers

more than anything.

Your pen is silent in your death

The birth of each word is end now

You may not understand the pain of readers

So may not write it.

your death just not put us in sorrow,

Continue muted us.

You will not write!

Such a pain

What could be more for the reader!

Death could not lose you

Your creation is still alive.


In memory of Poet Allen Ginsberg

Beside the ‘Jessoreroad’  under the trees

Broken camp; humans covered with polythene,

Thin naked body, hollow eyes

Near Bangaon border in September’ 1971.

Allen Ginsberg angered in grieves;

insulting his almighty government

He wrote the immortal poem, “September on Jessore Road”.

Millions of East Pakistani refugees

Mourning, anguish and tremble of grief

afraid of torture , inhuman horror of war.

Hyena-like Kissinger-Bhutto’s atrocities

Yahya’s  bayonet-bullet-bombs and bloody wounds

Howl of Bengal, silent in Western world.

Allen Ginsberg seen in small scale

Yet the poet’s heart has felt countless

Sorrows of Human-soul.


Oil painting

‘Why not you draw my picture?’

suddenly she said.

A  girl of twenty,

depth of forest  in her face

eyes  are blue lagoons

lips are as soft as lotus.

thick black hair like a shiny  river,

many monks lost their way at her neck.

breast are like volcano

eruption is  underway.

beside the curvy Silk-Road

undulating desert parks her hip,

a spring beneath the mountain deep.

No other artist could be

canvas painted something different.

Yet she made me

painted her picture

using words




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