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Best Marsiya Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Marsiya poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of marsiya poems written by PoetrySoup members

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The Best Marsiya Poems

Details | Marsiya Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I'm my Daddy Made Over

Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013


I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over

Taught me to fight back 
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over

He gave me my stubbornness 
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over

How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my mind worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over

Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on 
I may stumble I may fall 
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over


Sabrina Niday Hansel



Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013


Details | Marsiya Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Peshawar Massacre by Terrorists killing 134 school children

In English

What sort of a mother am I
Who cannot even count 
the innumerable bullet wounds 
spread all over the delicate body
of her beloved child
However, day and night 
I keep   counting 
the myriad of  marks 
left by the terrorists'  bullets
on his school bag;
I will also keep counting 
the innumerable shot wounds 
that spread all over 
his blood-stained books and uniform as well
provided I have the luck 
to live until then.
(translation by mazHur Butt)

In Pushto

STA PA BADAN K DA GOLO NAKHO TA,
CHA HADO PRE NAKHODAM
CHE MA SHMARALLY KHO WAY
STA PA BASTA K DA GOLO NAKHY HUM KHEY DERY WAY
ZEH TOLA WRAZ YE SHMARAM
STA KITABUNO AU KAPO K NAKHY
HAGHA BA HUM SHMARAMA
KHO K JWANDAI PATY SHOM
( Pa 16,December da yo shaheed bachi da Mor sanda)
16 December ko shahadat pany waly aik Bachy ki Maan ka Nooha..

 ....HumayunHuma

In URDU 
Mein kesi maa'n hoo'n 
ke jissay 
goliyoan ke nishaan
jism nazuk per tere 
ay meri aankh ke taaray
gin-nay ka izn 
mila hee nahi 
haan magar shumaar karti hoon
subh o roz 
tere bastay pe lage 
golion ke ghaO  beshumaar 
tere kaproan aur kitaboan per bhi jo hein
zaalimoan kee golion ke beshumaar nishaan
tere pak khoon se labraiz
mein unhein bhi gin-na chahti hoon
aur gin hee loon gee unhein 
agar zindagi ne wafa kee.
Mein Ik maa'n hoon,

(translation by mazhar butt)


Copyright © mazhar butt | Year Posted 2015


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Panda and Combine

Panda and Combine
We both are generally lazy
Until it comes time to work
Then we both eat crops
We both are losing land to live on.

We both start small then eventually grow
While one prefers the west.
While the other prefers the east.


Copyright © Conner Woltzenhowzer | Year Posted 2014


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Heart trapped between two mountains

When my heart is crushed between two rocks, 
I struggle to find you in the darkness.
Build of temptation
foundation of moral
a layer of guilt.
To lead me in this world of **** twisted hearts.
Take mine out to see if you were hiding you there.
Building on temptation
flowing though lust 
killing myself knowing all that I have lost.
To take my heart to free my soul because I always knew I would be buried alone.


Copyright © matt wood | Year Posted 2016


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Dear Godfather

(true feelings none fiction)


Dear Godfather Ernest Pinckerly.
       The day you died when I was young was horrible.
My life had changed ever since. The memory of you is like a blur all I remember is your name and being with you from that short moment.
      My father came to visit. Before I knew tears and cries of your death happened. Your beautiful white home came to it's silence. My tricycle and playground I left behind and more ,to go live with my older sister I found out about in last minute.
    Till this day my life haven't been the same, went through so much since after your death.
     My father doesn't speak of you.but I never bother to asked for observing the situation already gave me my answer.
      I write this letter to you to release these memories. To let you know I always miss you.

      
 


Copyright © Nagella Jean-Baptiste | Year Posted 2017


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What makes it okay

I use my hand to write poems that will convince you that my soul has been bleeding from start to end. But this may be a poem for those who think I've been writing from the heart. 
What makes it okay? 
What makes it okay to bow for our souls when they cling to the pregnant clouds of tears and fears?  
This is just me maybe running out of ways to numb this pain by reading old books with coffee stains and nothing makes it okay. 
But the coffee stains are the reason I'm uncomfortably wake at three A.M trying to cover the holes I opened with the knife but the blood wasn't mine; it never was. 
What makes it okay to see temptation in a blade, knife, or a pair of scissors? It's the fact that it's not my life I'll be taking. Maybe it's only now you see that the "be careful" note I left on your doorstep wasn't just one of my dramatic moves. You better be wearing two left shoes. 
What makes it okay to know we're not happier? 
What makes it okay to hide the misery with a smile? 
It's me; I'm willing to go the extra mile just as long as you stay behind; I just want to make sure it's safe. 
What made it okay for me to call you at 3AM in the morning telling myself I've had enough of this sadness. Followed by your voice telling me "everything's going to be fine and maybe it's that time of the month" and no "it's not me; it's you." what makes it okay? I do. 
I've always had that "go for it" vibe hidden inside me I'd ask you to find it but I'd be uncomfortable. 
What makes it okay to cling to a cloud? 
That's probably the hardest **** I've ever had to do. After closing the toothpaste cap; I mean that **** is kind of hard to remember. Like replacing the toilet paper roll; i repeat that **** is hard; literally. That's why the toilet paper needs to be replaced. 
What makes it okay for me to judge you without having to hear your pain and bleed for you? I'll take the blame any day; just make sure I'm going to be okay when I come back to you every night asking for day light. 
I mean girl; the sun sets; why won't you.?
the sun rises; why won't you? 
clouds move; why won't you? 
What makes it okay to put bravery to test? You do. 


Copyright © Kedumetse Ramonate | Year Posted 2017


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HISTORY OF JESUS

he  was father and son
all in one
no doudt
he was sold out
it was for few dime
as they drank wine
one was unkind
that was a time
the little boy was born
the world was torn
he came in at dust
it became christmas
that
HISTORY OF JESUS




Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2017


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understudy

emotional 
understudy
positioning 
it's self
upon the 
stage of
life as
prop to
be used 
as a 
replacement 
for the 
injured true 
internal self


Copyright © shari thomas | Year Posted 2017