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		Yellow and other Poems  Moushumi Hasan Published on April 07, 2007                YELLOW                    When I try to reach to the axis               the dead horizon turns its face               as the moon shows its other side.               The neon of city life �               as yellow as jaundice-               as a deadly poison.               Somehow an old fanatic tries to survive once again --               So far he sees -               There is only the misery of Modern times,               The Past, and legends.               The creamy stars foreshadow the Pine jungle;               The top is covered with silver light,               while the bottom is Copper-gold.               He tries to get lost inside the Devdarus and Pines,               the moon is cloud covered.               Lilac-Dream             The smell of Lilac             Lemon-grass candle, burning incense,             Lady with blue eyes:             All of them search for the same assertion.              But the mystery is an illusion �             That never comes true, never remains stable.             It becomes a fantasy,             Of the old time history,             Like a mermaid in shinny water,             Like butterfly wings �             The crows fly in vain with my dreams,             My door is closed tonight.                                Desert-Day                                          In the middle of the night --            With the full moon beaming,            I saw the flesh of a naked nymph.            Standing in the middle of the night wood.            The owls were staring at her glorious beauty.            Grasshoppers forgot how to fly --           The black yellow butterfly started sucking honey from the pink Tulip.           Was that a beauty or fire in the hub of ice?                                         That moonlit night, with a glow of unfathomed moment           Gives me a shiver,           A shiver in my blood.           Will she come back again?                                         Now I am on verge of this desert,           where the camel left marks on the sand.           The tents are transparent with the shadow of bodies �           Coming and melting together,           and their traces just linger unsound..                         Exile           I don�t belong here,           Nowhere between this valley or the mountain.           Summer of this town is not yet           Fall is all around her           Falling like a maple leaf.           The smell of Cherry that I carry           Inside the bag,           over my shoulders -           My little sister would pick up more, more blue berries and           mother will still scream and scold  her           her dirty hands,           golden hair with pink ribbon on her head-           one loose end other one is tight.           Her brown - white socks.           what a beauty of perfection!           with a clean pair of eyes.           loved to watch           all these �           Between the valley or the mountains.           Fall is all around           Falling like a maple leaf.           When I was falling down the mountainside.             My favorite Eucalyptus stands so tall,           I can only count the red dots of my memories,           where no one can stand and fall.                                                         ______ About the author: Moushumi Hasan, a Bangladeshi-American poet, is the adjunct lecturer in the Department of English at City College, New York. She could be reached at [email protected]

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