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Best Poems Written by Osman Gani

Below are the all-time best Osman Gani poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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A Shakespearean Sonnet

The moon doth appear in that dark horizon
And glistens with a beam of drifting light.
Let thy passions stroll with the companion
Of forlorn hovering clouds in moonlit night.
O Nature, sing not thy lonesome songs again
For I doth find a friend in each of thy cells.
I rejoice in thy touch even in wrecked pain
And my life hath mend its stuttering wheels.
Dazed weariness once mocked my forlorn being
Ere it came unto thy shelter, Mother Nature!
Whilst my morale dips in bosom, come and sing
A song of Love that warmeth every creature.
Nature hath a bliss that drenches our dry mind,
Pouring tender showers amidst the roughest wind.


(This is the first time I have tried to write a Sonnet, so, please pardon my shortcomings)

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The Supermoon

The astronomers, common people, kids are gazing
At the Super-moon that has appeared in the sky.
The super-moon is so big, so bright, so charming
That the bystanders cannot even blink their eye.

Next day, the burning furnace of the Sun will burn
The shimmering of Super-moon with its warmth.
What will change tomorrow? Will the waves turn?
Will fate of the poor change? Can death be birth?

The poor who sleep at rough footpaths of the city
Were sleeping starved in the chilly moonlit night.
They had nothing to do with the moon’s luminosity,
If the moon were bread they could eat it with delight.

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Though Nothing Can Bring Back the Hour of Splendour In the Grass, of Glory In the Flower

Morning comes with downpour of dazzling dew
That sits on leaves of grass, petals of the flower
And with splendour and glory stains them anew.
Beauty of Eternal image shrinks into finite Hour.

The cruel ray of Sun quivers the grass, the leaves
And the dews suddenly vaporize and flutter away
Like the scattered flying bees of broken beehives.
The parting dew yields to dreary mechanical day.

Though nothing, nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower
Yet tomorrow Dew will return with the downpour
Of splendours and glories of the heavenly power.

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Two Hearts Beating As One

Our two hearts are beating in One hemisphere,
Throbbing in same rhythm and in same nerve.
Our souls subsist in bodies so far yet too near
Like two molecules of a single atomic curve.

Our love connects the guild of our blood veins
And we respire through the unseen lung of love,
We share together each joy and all of the pains.
Our hearts are two white wings of a flying dove.

These two hearts will beat together until we die
And mock dying Death with the eternal reunion
As even in abstract body of infinity they will lie
Forever as two blissful hearts beating as One.

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Rainter

Rainter! O my Rainter! What are you, Rainter?
Are you a new season tinted by holy painter?
Rain is falling hard even in this freezing winter,
Everywhere disgust roams like a lonely hunter.

The winter rain congeals brains, soaks hearts,
With its two ice-cold hands and crying eyes.
Nature is camouflaging itself in several parts
To display how changing carpet of Time flies.

Rainter, a fragment of Nature’s jumbled play,
Is nothing but a cyclic blend of its crude tools.
Some would sense it exciting, others may say
“Rainter, thou art disgusting except to the fools”

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Send a Land-Craft To the Planet of the Poor

Atlantis, the last of the spacecrafts, left this exterior of world
For the scientific expeditions and to discover something new.
Such heroic spacecrafts search new planets, aliens and herald
New discoveries to us that delude our conscience like the dew.

Send no more spacecrafts to search Aliens (even if these exist)
But send some Land-crafts to the Planet of the Poor, this Earth.
The Poor wait, starved and neglected, with an empty open fist
Where to born as destitute is a Curse and cursed is every birth.

A single gram of meal for an Astronaut costs more, yes, more
Than the whole year cost of a poor man who lives to struggle.
Send a Land-craft, at least, to this unexplored planet of poor,
You will discover luminescence of God in their simple smile.

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The Fragrance of Virtue Rises To the Heavens

The blissful flower landed on the earthly dirt
And rooted its seeds on the bosom of mankind.
The flower blooms only in fruitful pure heart
Which grazes its petals like one hungry hind.

Virtues are the atoms of God, the holiest one.
The more we attain it, the more we appear near
To Him, His being, Virtues and godliness anon
As our soul drenches with immortal holy tear.

The earthy flower blooms, dies in perched air
With a fragrance that melts, melts, melts away.
But the fragrant flower of Virtue is always fair,
Its fragrance rises towards heavenly stairway.

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A Day To Remember

This is the day when I came to this Earth
After the persevering struggle of my birth.
The day and that hour returns every year
And certainly such a day is to remember.

The gyrating birthday has come yet again
And the dawn’s trumpet dissolves all pain
And renews the weary heart with a vision
Of hope and fills heart with great elation.

The day that makes you feel so, so special
And every pain of world seems superficial.
On such a day, you know how people love
You, tend you. You feel like a dreamy dove.

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Fasten Your Seatbelts, It's Going To Be a Bumpy Night

The journey of life ends at some holy land.
The roads are so awfully dark and too blur.
The night do seem so long as never to end
And that dreamed daylight appears too far.

Still we tread the stony steep roads of life
On wild desire-car that bears us, our dreams.
Edges of the road slice our hopes like knife
But courage holds us against scary screams.

After the fall of dark night, daylight appears.
Behold there, where waits dreamland of Light.
O Solitary Traveler! Forsake your frosty fears,
Fasten seatbelts It’s going to be a bumpy night.

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Lice Attack

They prepared a squad to ambush
On hairy forests of a human head.
Things were well planned to push
The army on the murky skin-bed.

Army of Lice marched on warily
Towards the places assigned to all.
They had to peep everywhere slyly
Lest they are knocked by Fingernail.

The Larger ones are the commanders
Of this momentous Guerrilla attack.
Smalls will follow forgetting Slanders
And battle with guts, work in Pack.

They furrow the skin to make Trench
So that they can fight and stay secure.
Some would plunge in them to drench
Themselves in the blood for adventure.

These Lice have a Mission to fulfill.
They make slices of nice hair with
Their teeth of Vice like stinging Eel
Or Mice, with ruthless urge beneath.

They have attacked on the Two-footed,
Some would hide and ambush at once,
Some hang by hair until it’s uprooted.
All they do is sip, sting, cling, flounce.