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Real Abdullah Poem
Highly sunshine in out of the house.
The animals are very discord in that temperature,
Water of the canal also highly heat.
For temperature, legs can't keep there.
Fishes are running too and fro.
Maybe They want to keep
their selves in shadow.
Birds are in the nest,they don’t fly
they Keep safe themselves in their nest.
Chickens are taking rest on the tree,
behind the leafs.
A cow is calling hamba hamba.
An ass is calling bray bray.
A goat is going to death.
They all need water, but where is water?
There is no water,burning sun is absorbing all water.
Desert and desert all over the world,
So,Everywhere need raining.
Emergency getting life, water has no alternative.
Sun rays should be cold,wind should be blowing
Shadow needs, shadow.
Heavy Rain would be down.
The whole world will wet with a gentle cold rain.
Copyright © Real Abdullah | Year Posted 2022
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Real Abdullah Poem
Poetry of the poet can damage your heart.
So don't believe that.
A poet who thinks
And what he thinks is just for writing
So don't take it serious.
A poet falls in love every moment.
He is always looking for his writing material.
A Poet falls in love
To get sorrow again and again.
Sorrow is his beloved
He loves his beloved very much.
So don't believe a poet.
He is not your right and desired person.
Copyright © Real Abdullah | Year Posted 2022
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Real Abdullah Poem
If everything is ok,
go near the window
And open the window.
Keep your eyes outside
You will see there
A beautiful blue sky,
Sunny day or cloudy day.
You will see some birds are flying
And a river is flowing there.
Or
Some Butterfly is dancing on flowers
And many kinds of beauty.
In the night,
you will see Firefly.
Flickering Stars
A beautiful moon
And a moonlit night
Night Queen blooms
On the Roof.
If you be silent
You will hear crying.
Of baby or unhappy person.
All are easy in life,
If you can access
that is easy otherwise very hard
If everything is ok.
Copyright © Real Abdullah | Year Posted 2022
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Real Abdullah Poem
Never go there.
Where dark has captured daylight.
Never go there.
Where there is no singing of birds.
Never go there.
Where there is no pulse of the heart.
Never go there.
Where there are not any interactions of love.
Go there, where there is much daylight.
Where it is filled with songs of birds.
Any kind of songs of the world.
A melodious song can bring happiness in love.
And can relieve the boringness of life.
Go there, where it is filled with intimacy.
Copyright © Real Abdullah | Year Posted 2025
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Real Abdullah Poem
Oh! Eyes!
Very excellent eyes,
Hurt in my heart.
Oh! Eyes!
If you have no tear,
I feel,
My heart has become a desert.
Oh! Eyes!
An ocean, or a sky,
I can sink in it.
I can die.
I can fly.
If you look at me
Keep your eyes on my eyes.
I can fly.
I feel like millions of lovebirds.
singing in my heart.
Copyright © Real Abdullah | Year Posted 2025
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Real Abdullah Poem
I am crossing the Pul e sirat of the fire Ocean.
Countless ignoble, worthless and all the devils.
Dedicated angels are burning the dead bodies of everyone.
I asked the Fire-Worn Angels
Listen, you who burn the sinners—
You also burn equally.
What was your crime?
The Angles didn't give any answer.
They started showing busy-ness in their respective works
Again i asked them they didn't give any answer also.
But one Angle call and reply me
that they are not Angle
They are the old inhabitants of hell
Burn after burn, fire has become tolerable for them
Fire can't do anything on them.
Angle asked me, " Where do you go? ‘
I answered them that i have cross the Ocean of hell.
I will now go towards the Divine.
The Angle astonished, asked me,
"What are you saying?
You haven't crossed the Pul-e-Sirat!"
Extremely eager, the Angle then asked me,
"Where have you come from?
What is the name of that country?"
I smiled faintly, puffed out my chest, and said, "Bangladesh!"
The astonished Angle said, "May your journey be successful!
For those who come here from Bangladesh—
They need no Hashr, Meezan, Pul-e-Sirat, and no Hell.
Take the name of Allah, close your eyes, and go ahead."
I understood that I had mistakenly stepped onto the Pul-e-Sirat.
I started walking in the name of God.
God's shadow delivered me to the exact destination.
Still, I knelt and said, 'O God! If I have made a mistake, please forgive me.
• 'Pul-Sirat' (a bridge in Islamic eschatology).
• Resurrection (Hashr), no Scale (Meezan), no Bridge (Pul-e-Sirat), and no Hell (Dozakh).
• The astonished (Hell-dweller)
Copyright © Real Abdullah | Year Posted 2025
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Real Abdullah Poem
To Gaza people
—Real Abdullah
What will i say for Gaza,
I have no anything to say
When the people of Gaza,
Don’t get any honor- like a pet.
Then i feel bad—I'm about to cry .
The gaza is the third world,
Probably God doesn’t live there
And doesn’t stay with Gaza people.
Gaza is alone,
The people of Gaza are all alone.
Anyone can think.
The people of Gaza aren’t people.
They are curse for human being.
They have the right only to die.
They have no right to live,
to get food, medicine, or clothes,
or any other living things.
The people of Gaza are born to die,
The people of Gaza are born for negligence.
The people of Gaza are born to be forgotten.
We are human beings,
and it is painful to think
that we can't help them.
I hope that one day,
millions of Gaza's people will return,
Yet there will be a soft love for them.
Copyright © Real Abdullah | Year Posted 2025
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Real Abdullah Poem
Amidst intense bullet rain
A little scavenger came to collect casings
Shot, bleeding—the smell of gunpowder in his pocket.
Tanks arriving from the city,
The heartless brutality of olive-green clad people—
Fire-spitting defiance—the ruler's red eyes.
The wound of losing colleagues
People who easily forget, take action
The olive-green clad trusted ones take action.
Those whom people consider dearest
The last refuge for justice in times of distress.
Against the people of the entire world
Their own declaration of war—
In their consideration, everyone is a fascist, an accomplice.
Actually, everyone is a fascist
Mad for power
The goal of all rulers is one: the throne.
Essentially, the throne is a virus,
Spreading through veins, everywhere
From one body to another, from city to village
Among rich and poor, people of all religions.
Bullets run out, bullets are reloaded
The youth who falls lifeless from a bullet
He never returns.
Copyright © Real Abdullah | Year Posted 2025
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