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Kashmir Delirium

Oh People Of Earth! Thankful are we,
For each act of benevolence shown to us.
Your gilded sweet words describing,
The beauty of Kasmir, land and people.

Mention in books and talks of it's riches,
Naming it the Sweet Paradise Of Earth.
The Lord has been bountiful to Kashmir,
Treasure of resources in every sphere.

To elevate each aspect, our wish for life,
As every acre of this land is worth millions.
Full of treasures and recreational value,
Forestry with grandeur and silvery rivers.

The outside world's view is so limited,
Simple folks living in the lap of rich bounty.
Mentioned in world forums and organizations,
But what of the goal of giving us freedom?

What has The UN established in our name?
To measure the pain and anguish we bear,
At the hands, of our supposed benefactors.
The saviours who has us fractured.

But in reality they train their enforcers,
In the art of creating oceans of tears.
The red blood now hidden in camouflage,
The spent shells now gathered and hidden.

The leaders we are told to elect in electoral shams,
Run publicity kiosks and swell friend lists.
Joint conferences to address personal interests
Dialogues that never address the root issues.

Just the formalities and no sympathy,
For the ones burnt in cruel sadistic reprisals.
The hypocrisy continues deliriously unabated,
More augmentation of the security forces.

For a first hand view of deep hypocrisy,
Walk this land, you know as beautiful.
Religious leaders will teach you  political artistry,
Sermons full of ambiguity and guile.

Waywardness and narrow mindedness on display,
Political apologists give great lessons.
Religion and religious ethnicity are tools,
That keep minds and bodies in total check.

Gamesmanship by leaders is the rule of thumb,
As promises are forgotten once office is obtained.
When writing of this succulent beautiful land,
Write of the air, pregnant with sadistic practices.

This land is being stripped of worldly treasures,
And the greatest treasure is mistreated daily.
The best of nation is the inhabitants,
Ignored are the real gems of this beautiful paradise.
I stare at the mirror
A creature stares back at me
She has no features on her
But she keeps on banging her fist to be free.

I stare into the giant river
The ripples wrinkle her smooth face
Devoid of nose, devoid of eyes, devoid of lips,
Her face, I see, is the emptiest place.

I stare at my reflection,
But I'm acquainted with an unknown countenance,
Staring back at me like an empty piece of paper,
Begging words to be written on her to make sense.

But making sense wasn't enough.
If you've ever stayed up until 4 am,
you're either lonely or in love.
And I don't know which one is worse anymore.
 Nov 2015 Gul e Dawoodi
Kj
dating a poet is fun,
and you'll learn things about yourself,
that you never knew.
but when you leave her,
you'll be the one who's broken.

you see,
she'll break you down
into bits and pieces-

she'll carve rhymes
into your rib cage
and
she'll make your kisses
into pentameters.

your voice becomes her rhythm,
and each color in your eye
forms a stanza.

you become pieced together
and poorly stitched,
because she's taken out
the very best parts of you
and the very worst.

she's taken you,
and cut out her favorite parts,
and she'll promise to put you back together,
but the funny thing is,
she never learned to sew.
 Nov 2015 Gul e Dawoodi
Pax
I tried to stop being depress,
and start making friends.
But then…
I build too many walls,
Just to hide my flaws
always fearing they’ll crumble.
And...
In the end I can’t stop my thoughts
when I’m alone, reoccurring questions it sought.
Burdens comes falling,
Rushing like the tide, washing
pushing away
the happy mask
I wore.
I haven't been writing much as of late. Maybe because like the first two lines said. Yes, I did make some friends and bond with them. It's great being able to joke around and laugh here and there... But I know deep down I still built too many walls, they can't see what's there, Perhaps I am too good in wearing this mask, that some people didn't see what's lurking behind it.
I hope you never reach
The day
Where you are lost for words
Because they're tangled up in
Agony.

I hope you never reach
The point
Where your innocence of
The world is
Robbed.

I hope you choose
Your friends and
Lovers wisely
So that you never have to
Discover what it feels like
To see those who you believed
Would take a bullet for you
Dance behind the
Trigger.
I am very fortunate that this has made the daily poems! I am completely new to this site (about a week or two in) and it is truly an honor to have my work recognized. Thank you guys for supporting!
 Nov 2015 Gul e Dawoodi
ryn
Hear ye!
Hear ye!
Oh how I love concrete poetry!
Itching to write and sculpt and mould.
Twiddle my thumbs as I thought to myself silently.
Reckon I'd render my musings in italics and in bold!

Hear ye!
Hear ye!
30 days of concrete, wouldn't you fancy?!
These poems, they come in various shapes.
Would you consider them "poetic eye candy"?
If I fashioned poems to look like grapes!

Hear ye!
Hear ye!
Awashed with excitement!
I can't wait to share!
Fantastical, delicious and ultimately succulent!
A wonderful spread of such wordy fare!

Hear ye!
Hear ye!*
When is this... GREAT BIG AFFAIR?
On the morrow, I'll dish out the first serving!
Do tune in if you so do care...
30 days of concrete! The shape fest is beginning!
Greetings! I will be posting a concrete poem each day for the next 30 days. It's a huge undertaking and I'm really pumped up about it! Stay tuned... :)
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