Short Minaret Poems
Short Minaret Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Minaret by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Minaret by length and keyword.
Halo of hallowed air
rising from six strings
walk over my bridge
minstrel minaret
magnified maple
ovate oak
viral wings
open in harpischords
playing archangelic
a myriad
of elphins
dancing
I think about my dreams ;
and i think about the nightmares
they carry on their wings !
My dreams they fall like sweet rain
from the clouds on the minaret ;
but still hard to satisfy...
The Gods in the tone of nightmares they cry.
(25.02.2022)
All decisions are made
at a desk in another country.
They pass through
‘in’ and ‘out’ trays,
collecting signatures along the way.
Then, one day,
they become a concrete wall,
where once a few
tired weeds grew.
Afghanistan, 2017
First published in Blue Minaret
Russian balls
Russian
Glass
Atop
Spires
Orthodox
Spine
Tingling
Last
Breath
Car
Exhaust
Counting
Change
Pink
Carpet
Gold
Entrusted
Box
Open
And
Dark
One more onion in the broth
Make the sign of the cross
A black cloud
rains selectively
on the dispossessed,
a wretched lot.
My billowing abaya
now clings to me,
revealing my form.
Their glances lacerate.
The road stretches
to the horizon,
but has swallowed
my expectations.
Palestine, 1948
First published in Blue Minaret
poised
above the minaret
a crescent moon –
a woman in labour
holds her husband’s hand
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A Strand (1048) Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
© 3rd December 2021
Note: The crescent moon is related to life… a sign of fertility.
The ‘curve’ refers to the moon and the belly of the pregnant woman.
What do I know!
What do you know!
And the sound’s,
Warble from church tower
And minaret
And the spring, river
And the wind
While continuing their flow
In the ground
What do they know?
And the spirits busy
Without even knowing they are!
And I who do not saw things
As you see it
How could I know things that have never been seen?
The famed archer perches on the minaret
While the waxing moon disappears
He studies the dancing silhouettes
Waiting on the reclusive premier
The scant light of a torch coyly dances
And soon the moribund ruler emerges
The bowman knows where his allegiance is
Soon the realm will be singing dirges
The arrow hits the heart and it is rent apart
And so departs the tyrannical tetrarch
Do you envision a creeping fear
climbing the minaret
to reach the moon ?
A debate has started
between believers and non-believers.
Why not he who lives
in eternal emptiness climbs down
and settles the dispute of hymns
in the scortching heat of words.
I just want you to read
the script and don’t say, a sky
has wept
drop by drop on the nakedness
of human beings
who could not cover their shadows.
Satish Verma
Form:
Do you envision a creeping fear
climbing the minaret
to reach the moon ?
A debate has started
between believers and non-believers.
Why not he who lives
in eternal emptiness climbs down
and settles the dispute of hymns
in the scortching heat of words.
I just want you to read
the script and don’t say, a sky
has wept
drop by drop on the nakedness
of human beings
who could not cover their shadows.
Satish Verma
Form:
‘I’m a failed Muslim.
I drink raki now,’ he says.
A bottle twinkles
on the upturned orange box.
On the unmade bed,
a punch-drunk pillow
lurches in a sea of ruptured quilts.
‘I never pray,’ he adds,
as hawk-eyed Ataturk
retreats to an ascetic frame
and glowers at the room.
And we who are too precious
to confess our faults
feel awkward in the silence.
Turkey, 1990
First published in Blue Minaret
Go with the wind Oh! my pigeon
And sit on the minaret of my Beloved
Kiss it softly, gently and sacredly
And come fast, pierce your beak
Deep into my heart to feel that touch
Of love and devotion.
Do go over the lovely vales
And do pick the scent of roses
Do go over the velvety rocks
And pick a touch cozy gentle
Do go over the Oceans' deep
And pick the sheen of cool breeze
And don't forget to pass over my ailing heart
For every pulse ,there , looking to be healed.
Music
Like a raindrops,
When racing October, smoothly,
Shaking upon ember pulse
Ah _ I adore its talk,
When fear roars into myself and calms
And when the minaret of the village,
Exclaims my name,
Like a successive waves,
On the banks of sorrow
And when my old friends,
Taking a farewell look,
It’s lying down next to me
As a white star,
Dancing between five sleepless angels
Upon endless greenery land,
Playing grief tunes; the tunes of the end
a beautiful nymph descending from the heavenly skies
dispel the sadness that grinds the root of days
cheer me with your voice
and let your ankles squeeze the wine of the days to come
be for me the temple of the dancer
that writes in the dust the mystery of the days to come
and let your body be the wonderful minaret
that supports the call
be my throat that struggles to whisper
and prayers and whispers and curses
be the luminous foundation
that supports this vitiated life