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Best Pashto Poems | Poetry

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

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The Best Pashto Poems

Details | Pashto Poem |

Under The Same Moon -in Afghanistan

Here in violence and in beauty, living under the same moon
The beauty is so ancient, but the present violence here consumes
On one hand Afghanistan is all that it appears
Insurgents here are so deadly; through the land they spread fear
But a turn of that coin, would reveal a much different side
A land which contested the Great Alexander, and ruled by Shahs with pride
With its mighty Hindu Kush, and many rivers at hand
The graveyard of countless empires, its resistance that spans
The brave here fight hard, a fierce gamble, with their inheritance of wealth
Battling the Taliban with an opulence of old grit, using the hands they were dealt
Keeping Kandahar, Herat, Mazar-i Sharif, and the capital -Kabul
Free from tyrannical domination, oppressed by Taliban rule
I’m in awe of these courageous Afghans, this country has come far
This is the Afghanistan which I see, who else will share where they are?



This poem was inspired by "Under The Same Moon" a three way collaboration by Poet Destroyer A, Chris D.Aechtner, and NIKKO P..



Written DEC 2013 in Afghanistan

Details | Pashto Poem |

Stinky McGee

A poor little boy named Stinky McGee.
His problem, he'd fart whenever he'd pee.
His Mama fed him beans.
And you know what that means.
He was worried he'd fart the kind you'd see.

Details | Pashto 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)

Details | Pashto Poem |

Silent Lies

Silent Lies 

Silent lies
Silent tries
Silent deceptions upon the meek
Blaming Yahudi or any others of different speak
Whoever doesn’t subscribe to propaganda’s blubber

The gardens of Babylon had both fools and gardeners

False accusations
False assumptions
Defiling peace, a sad interruption
Deception is the tool of the propaganda’s fool
Silent lies, yet on and on do they try

The gardens of Babylon had both fools and gardeners

Hiding behind his many monikers and dark lit screens
Many of us are crying cause one of us is lying
Hate wrapped in well wishes
Love wrapped in ancient vendettas
Deception hiding in his own confessions

The gardens of Babylon had both fools and gardeners

While the sickness spreads upon her breast
Silent ones, wandering along the poetic path
Seeking brides with beauty to accept both cane and wrath
Deception and lies all dancing in the rain
Once bitten, most lovers know never to take that train

The gardens of Babylon had both fools and gardeners

Never praise the fool
Never kill the gardener
The ancients lost their wisdom
Repeat not the tribulations of the Iraq

The gardens of Babylon had both fools and gardeners

Silent lies, truth cries
Silent ghosts, phantoms dance
Deception mixed in romance
Fools mange the mirage of silent lies

The gardens of Babylon had both fools and gardeners

Details | Pashto Poem |

My ink is my blood

Lick these writings of mine  
Let my ink stain your taste buds 
Can you stand the taste of my pain?

Wounded by the sharpness of thy mind       i bleed continually- my ink is 
my blood
The words of my qull flow from my vein

I'm standing below the poverty line
Will manna fall from above?
There's no nourishment in the rain    

The freedom I search for is yet to find 
I want to be free like a dove
Free my brain from the mental chain    

Racism should be once up on a time
Pour me hate and i dilute it with love 
Hate me with passion- what's your gain?

Details | Pashto Poem |

Respect The Roots

I’m thankful for slaves who never could understand, “Why do I work for people and get less than the bare minimum wage?”
Why do I go through the pain and suffering if there’s no gain for my family or me? My greats never were a boss and rarely knew who their family was so why live this life if it wasn’t free to be?
My roots nurtured the seeds who helped create opportunities; if we as the people could see how they lived maybe we would be stronger minded people rather than living like we have no sense
We are a culture that is talented in so many ways but we want to be the target of a negative headline news story. 
We already seen shackles on our feet, slavery, segregation, and racism against our peace, so why do we still act as if we can’t change the way people perceive us to be
We are not going to blame it on our past because they gave us freedom to see so why can’t we exploit this and live the true meaning of the land of the free
Disregard the negative news and set yourself apart change the way you act so others can see a fresh start
If we started from the bottom now where here isn’t that living proof we can do anything besides spend money on material things but invest in the future or non-profits to help others to build something and have a heart
We can’t just stay a struggle we have to be humble take over the government and make change not think we high class and go to jail for spending money or getting caught up for the wrong things
 Set a strong example for these homeless, gangs, prostitutes, and dealers because they are suffering and have only 2 choices that put us on the news headline story in jail or death coming soon
 As we lift up those who make a change on the streets or on Capitol Hill we are happy these people are creating an Underground Railroad to victory without suffering and hopefully this stand is coming to all my people to
 We got to take charge in numbers instead of sit back all for nothing
 If you better yourself from how others use to see you maybe you can see the roots that can help make the change for you as others grow in this thing called a root lifting cycle. Respect the roots.

Details | Pashto Poem |

Undying Love


Undying Love



For you I would drain the ocean blue
 fight it's fearsome monsters too
Sail a ship smashing stormy seas
 buy the bank giving you the keys

For you I would slap a tiger in it's cage
 dance bare naked upon a public stage
Knock mighty mountains down to gravel
 across barren deserts swiftly travel

For you I would totally change my life
 cut my own throat with razor knife
Dive headfirst into a bottomless dark pit
 do anything , anything  but commit!

For you sweet baby, anything but commit!

Robert L. 05-28-2014

Travelled that road for 8 years as a young man between marriages...
Greatly fearing to commit because it meant opening my heart to 
a possible future unbearable pain again. It took a miracle for me 
to overcome and right on time 21 years later I got blind-sided again.
Live and learn...

Details | Pashto Poem |

A Welsh New Year

A Welsh New Year

The night's dark shadow 
creeps softly over the sky. 
Dark, soft fingers pull slowly at the light, 
fully engulfing it into it's dark mass. 
The wind whips off the sea.
Snatching and releasing, 
pushing and pulling.
Rough and unforgiving.
Wild as our hearts, 
beating quickly in the night.
The wooden walls groan in around us.
A ship, 
forever docked, 
deeply into the cliff.

A yearning spirit hides in anticipation 
behind each eye, 
quivering in excitement and childish glee.
When finally, 
one scuttling figure jumps from the couch 
and out the door.
We chase him, 
fleeting feet and unruly rain jackets, 
across the courtyard and towards the wild sea. 
The wind's intensity grows with the seconds.
We stop, 
finally,
when we reach the light.
It flashes, 
giant and glowing.
The sea roars far below us 
and the wind thrashes and screams in our ears.
I feel as if it could lift me off my feet 
and carry it as far as it pleased.
Clinging tightly to whoever is closest, 
we stand in silent awe. 
But it only last one flickering moment,
before we're dashing back 
to the warm safety of the indoors. 

But when the morning comes,
and all putter around the kitchen, 
little fragments of the night still remain. 
A crumpled flag of the living room floor. 
Muddy shoes scattered 
on the cold entranceway.
The quick sprawled footprints in the sand. 
And a lone wine-glass of water, 
on a disheveled bedside table. 
Gentle smiles pass through the house,
and the steady sea beats rhythmically on.
 
related link:
http://thearyan.com/category/poem/

Details | Pashto Poem |

The school life

Tears in the eyes
When my school began
Willing to go to home back
That time, the only place of heaven
A small child doesn't know much
What are books and what is school?
Just like that, I was unable to realize
That its very beautiful...

With span of time it brought
Some different changes in me
That school and home with no difference
seeming to be
An innocent child with bag on his back
Transformed into teenage
Now, school is home and home is bore
wishing, even sundays to be working days...

First time bunking the class 
was severe challenge for me
But slightly with growing time
It became my cup of tea
Many scoldings and praises, I got
from almost every teachers
And i enjoy the school time
Enjoyment for me mainly matters...

But, slowly stress has increased
Only studies, studies and studies
My childhood was here and teenage is going
School is one which has taught me everything
I came with tears and will go with the same
But will leave the remark of my name
Its the thought of almost every student
That school life is the mixture of all enjoyment...

Details | Pashto Poem |

Coming Clean

Coming Clean

Suppose  I was your inner self
the one so determined  to fall,
you wake each day  with a frown on your face
blaming it on all others after all.
 
But suppose this person fell from oneself
became a shadow to leave behind,
Could you or would you find happiness
leaving old memories on the sidelines.
 
Honestly with life so short  why take part
in hiding in misery  day after  day ,
why  fold  yourself  into a crumbled  mass
yet  crying  within of  needs  deteriorating  away.
 
Tell me how hard do you work 
to make others see your pain ,
for maybe they would understand why
if you was trying to be whole once again .
 
Arms  reach out and you slap them away,
makes  you once  again embracing your pain .
to refuse  the  help sent  your way,
and you refuse  again and again.
 
What is  so bad you cant come clean
to  find life is what we make it to be,
What is so woven into your mind
where even your shadow  has become unkind.

related link:
http://thearyan.com/category/poem/

Details | Pashto Poem |

New York

She glimmers by the darkness of the sea
To welcome those who seek true liberty
This apple of the earth tempts all to see
The truth that nothing in this world is free

Such beauty bears a burning torch up high
The glorious towers of an empire try
To reach God's heaven with a greedy eye
A dream compared unto a slice of pie

Thou sleepest not and yet unvigilant
For evil blinded thy Inhabitants
When unrighteous riches reigns abundant
Eternity becomes irrelevant

Then terrors fall on thee in judgment quake
When nations drink his wrath at last awake
Filled with much pride thy golden idols break
Forbearing grace thou rudely didst forsake

But from the ashes stands an emblem old
Upon a hill of broken dreams foretold
Unworthy friends he was betrayed and sold
The priceless one with selfless love untold

So spread the word, cease from thy night of work
A new day comes, O glorious Sun of York!