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I am one of those who is under the weather, and not weather beaten so the weather influences my moods which further influence me to write.
In the east where I belong to , Pakistan to be precise MUSHAYRAS are held where poets(SHAIRS) are given a lot of audience response and the air is filled with WAH WAH a phrase lauding the poets poetry and helping him to do his best in reciting poetry, so spontaneous feedback is very essential to get the best from a poet at a poetry recital(MUSHAYRA)
If accompanied by music these poems can become songs and as Shakespeare said,' If music be the good of love, play along'.
By:
Zeenat iqbal Hakimjee
From the moment a child opens its eyes,
To the world and its ties:
She nurtures it like a steadfast rock,
Right from pant to frock.
" And I shall guide you,
On the path that I walked on,
Before you came along.
In sickness and in health,
In poverty and in wealth,
Whenever I needed company,
You gave the note to the harmony.
Sit tight little one......".
By:
Zeenat iqbal hakimjee
It seemed like my paradise was there to stay,
Everything I always wanted I possessed,

To hold to cherish till, I was dead
The envy of the crowd, I swayed to the rhythm

My heart heat and my breath hummed,
We were five in all, two boys and a girl,

The mild summer and a picnic by the beach
Snowflakes on the mountains not our of reach

On holiday or at work
Happiness and contentment always at my doorstep,

Suddenly fate started changing for worse,
The truth came home, not an act to rehearse,

He had to leave my side for greener pastures,
The children went along, all for one, one for all,

I was left all alone, to wipe my tears,
One my one they left me for a motionless floor,

I was all alone, all alone.
Confessions of a terrorist.

Possessed by the devil,
I strode out to do evil,

With enmity written large on my face,
Somebody has to be clad in deaths embrace.

Just yesterday a child became an orphan.
And a couple were worried by the ransoms burden.

The fetters of depression behold the city,
Where everyday criminals like me enter captivity.

Karachi, Karachi of yore
Shall not surface, will not surface
Whilst I trigger my double barrel bore.
written by:
Zeenat Iqbal hakimjee
It is a indeed a privilege to have my poem on your page.

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