"islamabad" poems - Hello Poetry

Hush all you voters, don’t say a word Or you’ll be sued by a great big **** He’s loud, obnoxious and has orange hair. You can hear him lying almost everywhere. He thinks he’s rich and a moral man But actually he’s just like the Ku Klux **** He has an endless supply of brainless rants Aimed at non-whites and the immigrants. He thinks it is time we let morality pass And started kicking some immigrant *** And if that immigrant’s mouth grows fat Trumpy gonna hit him with a baseball bat. And if that immigrant acts sad.. Trumpy gonna treat them like Islamabad. If Mexico gets ****** at all. Trumpy gonna build up a great big wall. And if the taxpayers say ‘No!’ Trumpy says he’ll bill it to Mexico. Trumpy says he can shoot people too And anything else he wants to do. Trumpy is counting on the Democrats To stay home election day and sit on their pratts. If the voters in this country don’t soon wise up. There won’t be any peace until Niagara dries up.

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Mar 16, 2016

Mar 16, 2016 at 10:51 PM UTC

brent-kincaid

HUSH LITTLE BABY (PARODY)

Hush all you voters, don’t say a word Or you’ll be sued by a great big **** He’s loud, obnoxious and has orange hair. You can hear him lying almost everywhere. He thinks he’s rich and a moral man But actually he’s just like the Ku Klux **** He has an endless supply of brainless rants Aimed at non-whites and the immigrants. He thinks it is time we let morality pass And started kicking some immigrant *** And if that immigrant’s mouth grows fat Trumpy gonna hit him with a baseball bat. And if that immigrant acts sad.. Trumpy gonna treat them like Islamabad. If Mexico gets ****** at all. Trumpy gonna build up a great big wall. And if the taxpayers say ‘No!’ Trumpy says he’ll bill it to Mexico. Trumpy says he can shoot people too And anything else he wants to do. Trumpy is counting on the Democrats To stay home election day and sit on their pratts. If the voters in this country don’t soon wise up. There won’t be any peace until Niagara dries up.

24

After it blossomed, The flower said, "Now, my beauty is beyond my control. Now, even I am beyond my reach." Ahmad Nadeem Qasimi, Selected Poems, The Pakistan Academy of Letters, Islamabad 1995

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Apr 15, 2014

Apr 15, 2014 at 10:06 AM UTC

irinia

"Diffusion"

After it blossomed, The flower said, "Now, my beauty is beyond my control. Now, even I am beyond my reach." Ahmad Nadeem Qasimi, Selected Poems, The Pakistan Academy of Letters, Islamabad 1995

5

Have you ever heard in your mind the sounds that silence makes the silence that spreads like music as in splendor a dewy morning breaks silence that clings to a Florentine fog as lone cyclist a cobble street snakes the silence that hangs heavy after a heavy down pour finally ends or await with it for the moment when heaven its pearly reward sends they sound so different and surreal like life’s ethereal myriad bends the silence that weighty dwells in wisps, rises from vacant eyes the silence that fills to the brim dole, of a beggar’s ripping sighs silence that hangs like a sword on fears of unsaid distant byes silence o endless tormenting silence you play on a piano’s dusty keys from a chair that rocks in howling wind on a lifeless verandah, distant sees from a score of such like mends wherefrom one has drunk to ones lees it speaks no man’s earthly breath yet heard in shattering numbness in ache and blight so steeped in rustle of a long gone worn dress in raucous merry gay proceeds or the mirth of a child’s bless in the time of a frisky bloomy day or gnaw of a long starry night the lullaby of distant streaking trains or the gondola’s reflective sight the cavort of journeys done together Echoes the hush of a soundless blight original saadat tahir 22nd July, 2k13 Islamabad.

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Jul 22, 2013

Jul 22, 2013 at 11:59 AM UTC

saadat-tahir

Sounds of Silence ... 2207-2k13

Have you ever heard in your mind the sounds that silence makes the silence that spreads like music as in splendor a dewy morning breaks silence that clings to a Florentine fog as lone cyclist a cobble street snakes the silence that hangs heavy after a heavy down pour finally ends or await with it for the moment when heaven its pearly reward sends they sound so different and surreal like life’s ethereal myriad bends the silence that weighty dwells in wisps, rises from vacant eyes the silence that fills to the brim dole, of a beggar’s ripping sighs silence that hangs like a sword on fears of unsaid distant byes silence o endless tormenting silence you play on a piano’s dusty keys from a chair that rocks in howling wind on a lifeless verandah, distant sees from a score of such like mends wherefrom one has drunk to ones lees it speaks no man’s earthly breath yet heard in shattering numbness in ache and blight so steeped in rustle of a long gone worn dress in raucous merry gay proceeds or the mirth of a child’s bless in the time of a frisky bloomy day or gnaw of a long starry night the lullaby of distant streaking trains or the gondola’s reflective sight the cavort of journeys done together Echoes the hush of a soundless blight original saadat tahir 22nd July, 2k13 Islamabad.

40

With eyes of black obsidian And eagle's beak of nose Black turban of the Taliban Worn everywhere he goes, Warrior of God's mountainside Mujaheddin, known by name, Pashto is his verbal tongue And Allah's quest, his fame. Razored knife in braided belt Long"Jezail"musket points to sky, A gimlet glint to garnet gaze One thoughtless move , you die. Gliding fast from rock to rock Gazelle like in his easy grace, Silent as an adder's strike Assassin black with turbaned face. For centuries invaders came To vanquish this stark land, Persians,Romans, Russians And British redcoats tried their hand. And recently the Yankees Came with automated war, To find themselves engulfed And fleeing for the exit door. Inexorable Afghanistan Has bleached their bones as one Vendetta for the insult While there's air to breath and gun. Like Shah Massoud, the warlords Descend from mountain cave To slaughter all who venture Be they terrified or brave. Tribally disconnected From Islamabad to Kabul, Tajik versus Pashtun Versus Koranic Islam's rule. No prisoners are taken, The women always use their knives And ravines echo shockingly As tortured slowly lose their lives. But the sunsets are glorious Valley mists by morning rise And row by row of fractured peaks Rise in grandeur to blue skies. And the children croon to goat herds As they graze high meadow's green And above the taloned goshawk glides Ever watchful and unseen. Hulks of Russian gun ships Litter valleys and the plain And the ghosts of many nations Walk these dusty roads of shame. For the legacy of the Afghans Is a ****** litany of war And the road to their tomorrow Is paved with promises of more. Marshalg Wanganui 30 December 2009. www.worthyofpublishing.com www.hellopoetry.com

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Jan 3, 2010

Jan 3, 2010 at 9:15 PM UTC

marshal-gebbie

Afghans

With eyes of black obsidian And eagle's beak of nose Black turban of the Taliban Worn everywhere he goes, Warrior of God's mountainside Mujaheddin, known by name, Pashto is his verbal tongue And Allah's quest, his fame. Razored knife in braided belt Long"Jezail"musket points to sky, A gimlet glint to garnet gaze One thoughtless move , you die. Gliding fast from rock to rock Gazelle like in his easy grace, Silent as an adder's strike Assassin black with turbaned face. For centuries invaders came To vanquish this stark land, Persians,Romans, Russians And British redcoats tried their hand. And recently the Yankees Came with automated war, To find themselves engulfed And fleeing for the exit door. Inexorable Afghanistan Has bleached their bones as one Vendetta for the insult While there's air to breath and gun. Like Shah Massoud, the warlords Descend from mountain cave To slaughter all who venture Be they terrified or brave. Tribally disconnected From Islamabad to Kabul, Tajik versus Pashtun Versus Koranic Islam's rule. No prisoners are taken, The women always use their knives And ravines echo shockingly As tortured slowly lose their lives. But the sunsets are glorious Valley mists by morning rise And row by row of fractured peaks Rise in grandeur to blue skies. And the children croon to goat herds As they graze high meadow's green And above the taloned goshawk glides Ever watchful and unseen. Hulks of Russian gun ships Litter valleys and the plain And the ghosts of many nations Walk these dusty roads of shame. For the legacy of the Afghans Is a ****** litany of war And the road to their tomorrow Is paved with promises of more. Marshalg Wanganui 30 December 2009. www.worthyofpublishing.com www.hellopoetry.com

61

My heart pulsates in my throat untamed like dark voodoo drums within the drums roll tears fearing words that are yet to come it’s been just a moment, just a trice that I, hope filled, just found you my searches in the raves had given me an answer in you Scarce had my eyes feasted scant to my heart’s fill if at all, a look in your doe eyes hardly the expression of my sighs a bit had I heard those chimes not at all in them hid the signs The shine off your rosy cheek language that your eyes speak The curls of your auburn hair flick of them, sans a care flutter of thy lashes and their storm Supple the lure of full arms the yearn in their heavenly charms swaying slowly as you walk a rage for the town to carry on talk you speak not those words twitter for my ears, of loving birds I shudder in pain and consuming loss woe begone, beset, I toss loss of a lifetime, in a frame reset you say you are helpless, weak whence shall I fetch for you a winners streak. O love! Walk up bold to the deserting train in the deluge of love nothing is sane walk and you shall not walk in vain Blow away the haunting shadow of pain or slowly step aside and let it chug off to let them laugh who had their scoff don’t throw away a beautiful life and buy us both a lonely strife original saadat tahir 12th Jun, 2k13 Islamabad.

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Jun 12, 2013

Jun 12, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC

saadat-tahir

To the deserting train ... 1006-2k13

My heart pulsates in my throat untamed like dark voodoo drums within the drums roll tears fearing words that are yet to come it’s been just a moment, just a trice that I, hope filled, just found you my searches in the raves had given me an answer in you Scarce had my eyes feasted scant to my heart’s fill if at all, a look in your doe eyes hardly the expression of my sighs a bit had I heard those chimes not at all in them hid the signs The shine off your rosy cheek language that your eyes speak The curls of your auburn hair flick of them, sans a care flutter of thy lashes and their storm Supple the lure of full arms the yearn in their heavenly charms swaying slowly as you walk a rage for the town to carry on talk you speak not those words twitter for my ears, of loving birds I shudder in pain and consuming loss woe begone, beset, I toss loss of a lifetime, in a frame reset you say you are helpless, weak whence shall I fetch for you a winners streak. O love! Walk up bold to the deserting train in the deluge of love nothing is sane walk and you shall not walk in vain Blow away the haunting shadow of pain or slowly step aside and let it chug off to let them laugh who had their scoff don’t throw away a beautiful life and buy us both a lonely strife original saadat tahir 12th Jun, 2k13 Islamabad.

44

The city questions the virtue of animals Islamabad

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Aug 21, 2020

Aug 21, 2020 at 10:29 AM UTC

normancrane

Islamabad

The city questions the virtue of animals Islamabad

3

"Love of A Poetess " by Nadia umber Lodhi You are love of a poetess, my beloved, Reflects from my words ever, Forget you never, My passion increase ever, My Love decrease never , You are love of a poetess, my beloved You are the Magic of a words magician, You are the business of a pain earner, I shall write departure, loneliness and tears, I shall describe fears, And earn income. You are love of a poetess , my beloved I shall sell dreams, earn profit, How can I gain loss, No Never, my dear I sold my heart, my dear One and Only wealth I have. ———— Nadia umber lodhi, Islamabad . Pakistan.

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Dec 12, 2018

Dec 12, 2018 at 5:42 AM UTC

nadia-umber-lodhi

Love of poetess

"Love of A Poetess " by Nadia umber Lodhi You are love of a poetess, my beloved, Reflects from my words ever, Forget you never, My passion increase ever, My Love decrease never , You are love of a poetess, my beloved You are the Magic of a words magician, You are the business of a pain earner, I shall write departure, loneliness and tears, I shall describe fears, And earn income. You are love of a poetess , my beloved I shall sell dreams, earn profit, How can I gain loss, No Never, my dear I sold my heart, my dear One and Only wealth I have. ———— Nadia umber lodhi, Islamabad . Pakistan.

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