Thank you – Zamreen Zarook
Thank you is a sweet word in the nature,
You may be a guy of adventure,
May be you are a person of agriculture,
What matters is your architecture.
Never forget the people, who guided you,
In no degree neglect who were with you,
Don’t ever overlook a creature, who gave a smile to you,
Because, you will meet them above you.
People forget the past due to selfishness,
They have no time to remember their unawareness,
Society, most of the times behave in awfulness,
They will understand when their lives come in to bitterness.
Be a person to thank and remember,
Don’t consider them as December,
Because, you might need them in November,
So, always be as a good subscriber.
Copyright © Zamreen Zarook
On the wings of two angles I was brought into this world…
My mother and father I’ve called them since I first spoke,
To their arms I ran when I first walked…
When my heart was not calm
Their love would come…
When no one believed
They saw what others couldn’t see
When I would cry
With a calm sigh they would smile
And the whole world would stop and the pain would die…
They taught me to not lie…
They taught me to be human…
On the wings of two angels I was brought into this world…
My mother…her beauty puts the stars to shame….
My father…his heart stronger than all the men that walk among us…
I thank my lord for giving me
The biggest treasure on this world,
Love that is clearly out of this world…
Copyright © Zeki Madjid
The Apple PASTURE
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.
Copyright © JAY JOHNSON
oh mum, don't kill me if you can't afford dowry.
oh mum,don't kill me if you want a boy to birth,
oh mum, throw me alive to live on this earth,
oh mum, don't dig a hole to hide me as indian myth;
oh mum, just educate me then never feel sorry.
i shall serve you as a servant don't feel pain my living,
please ask my brother if he can protect me if dare having.
I can walk on thorns to keep you happy don't cage my
why is Indian culture don't believe that I am also human?
why is security matter for me as a man is nudity fan?
don't afraid from gangs they are coward can't face a girl,
they can't love to daughter and sisters, looking beauty
they kill girls, demanding dowry, live in a cultural
when women 'll be free in india that's facing degrading
Copyright © Daljit Khankhana
I do not know?
The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims.
When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,
ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,
does Allah not recoil in horror,
to see His child whimper,
to see His daughter cry.
Where is the indignation,
the anger that often boils over and manifests itself as flags and books and videos are burnt in mass orgies of hollow piety,
where are the voices that scream so loud,
that denounce all but their own creed,
where are the men, the impotent men who crave for nothing more than their fascist egos to feed,
where are the voices that so loudly proclaim,
enemies here and enemies there, always quick to condemn,
where are those voices when the enemy walks amongst them.
14 year old Malala Yousafzai was shot in cold blood,
Advocating the rights of girls to an education.
Shame on you, men of bigotry and men of cowardice.
Shame on you, silent and mute accomplices in this carnage.
Shame on me,
for my inaction,
Shame on us all,
who proclaim lofty ideals,
yet are conspicuously silent,
when a 14 year old girl is shot in the head,
by fascist fundamentalist bigots who only worship bullets of hot lead.
Not in my name!
Not in my name,
shall the cowardly men rain down abuse,
Not in my name,
shall the bigoted men light the communalistic fuse,
Not in my name,
shall Malala Yousafzai be shot in the head,
left to bleed out,
while countless mothers' tears are shed,
not in my name,
shall religious murderers,
be left to wander free,
not in my name,
for I dare all believers to open their eyes,
the innocence of a 14 year old girl,
wanting only an education,
as the men of the cloth,
prance around with their pathetic self-righteous indignation.
I write this today,
the anger raging in my veins,
yet I fear,
that I shall write more of this,
unless we stand up and say 'no more',
I fear that I shall be writing this again,
until we all,
reclaim the true principles of humaneness,
until we silence the voices of bigotry,
of fanatical insanity,
I fear I shall be writing this again,
until the muck-ridden bile,
is not excised,
I shall continue to say,
NOT IN MY NAME!
Or else I shall have nothing,
but my unending shame.
(for Malala Yousafzai, 14 years old, in a critical condition after being shot in the head by the Pakistani Taliban, for her work as a young activist advocating the rights of girls to attend school)
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses
Momma you're so lovely
You're always there when am lazy
You are a great cook
The one who I always look
When am not good
You're there when the moon's down
& when my face turns into frown
And the times I become the clown
You're there when I have no-one
b'cause you're the special some1
No matter what time of day or night
You're always right beside
Oh my dear mom
You so deserve to be loved
We love you so much
We don’t know how to express
We love you mom
You're truly the best-est of all the angels
Copyright © Musheera Fatima
Asking or wondering,
teasing or affiliation,
you never said sorry,
for what you did to me,
here i am today,
sitting all alone,
out here in the stone cold world,
asking myself the same question,
did you ever really loe me,
as each day goes on,
memories are becoming the past,
now looking back,
what a blast we all had,
never will it be the same,
because you thought i was insane,
leaving behind all the people you ruthlessly blame,
sitting here all alone,
wondering why the h*** i ever cry,
you dont give a f*** about me,
so why should i,
yes i maybe your daughter,
very first child for that matter of fact,
you still turned your back,
and to this day have never looked back,
to see what a wonderful child you really do have....
Copyright © Kellee Smith