Editors’ Choice Top (5) English Poems
My Perished Garden
By Ro Anas
My peaceful garden has turned faint.
All birds of varied groups have vanished .
Neither lovely sounds of flourishing trees,
Nor withered leaves dropping I can heed.
How lamentable I am now!
With the loss of my ancestral garden,
And the melodious birds.
Being Refugee Is Not A Choice
Refugee is not just a word
It is a home of pains and despair
No one wants to be refugee
And being refugee is not a choice.
It is a man-made disaster.
With no crimes we committed,
We are made refugees.
Once the tarpaulin shelters in fire,
Once in the huge flooding
We are victims of several again and again.
In an open prison,
Called refugee camp
Confined now by the barbed wire fencing
We are just like prisoners
And we die each single day.
O’ the mankind, we can cry and smile too.
We can feel the same like you do.
We also belong to the human-family you do.
We also have the same dream
to make the world better and peaceful.
By Maung Maung Khin (Pacifist Spider)
The river within my homeland Arakan
At the east side of Mayu Mountain,
People visit from place to place through
The main water-way in northern Arakan
The river flows from south to north
Where fishermen catch fish by nets
Where ships import foods and goods
Where many inhabitants rely on
Arakaneses survive by it,
The life-blood like Ayeyarwady
Now people’s blood and tear gush to it
The river witnesses the crimes
Somewhere there’s robbery,
somewhere gun-fire and killing
Somewhere people are running
Somewhere children are crying
The river beholds horror and terror
People face now the sea of dilemma
The river we enjoyed in childhood in
Now blinking its eyes by blood and tear
A Rohingya Rape Survivor
By Yasir Bin Osmani
I am a rape survivor,
I can’t explain the horror I faced
My body has been eaten by a group of Burmese soldiers
Women are the meat and helpless,
I begged them for many times,
but they did not listen to me.
They raped me one after another,
they didn’t hear my screams.
When the incident came to light,
they put all the blames on my shoulders.
I was shocked to hear that telling;
I am dirty and ugly
Those soldiers released their rage on me
My treasures were molested
I haven’t gotten my justice yet,
Instead The Lady laughs out loud and
spreads the motto as Fake News
How shameful it’s!
Being a Rohingya woman,
No right to seek justice
I am still suffering those pains
While I am waiting, I am hoping and I am alive,
to get justice
to get justice
By Jahangir Alom
Life is a book.
So many chapters,
With different titles.
So many stories,
With different morals.
So many questions,
With different answers.
Sometimes it makes us confused,