|
Details |
Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Poem
Dear God, my love for you flickers in wavering shadows,
Caught between the whispers of evening prayers
And the intoxicating allure of liquor’s path.
I am well aware that this habit I cling to displeases you,
Yet I beseech you, dear God, how can I find repose?
How can I surrender to sleep’s embrace?
Your kindness, a radiant beacon in the vast expanse,
Leaves me in awe.
But within your world, cruelty dominates.
From the break of dawn till the descent of dusk,
I confront the unyielding face of Your world’s reality.
A realm steeped in injustice and hostility,
Where love and compassion are futilely sought,
Their traces lost amidst the clamor.
In the sheltering hours of twilight,
I yearn to release the burdens that plague me,
To erase the echoes of nonsense, pain, and regret
That haunt my being.
And so, I turn to the amber elixir,
With its seductive allure,
Hoping to numb the jagged edges,
Seeking refuge and respite
In its transient embrace.
But God, please understand,
I do not fit into the vast tapestry of your grand design.
This world, this test of existence, eludes me,
Leaving me adrift in its absurdity.
Chaos and suffering entwine,
Weaving a complex web that ensnares those within its grasp.
And yet, despite this darkness that enshrouds,
My love for you remains steadfast,
Clutched tightly in my trembling hands.
I extend my apology, baring my heart’s vulnerable core,
Yearning for you, God, to witness and share
In the weight of my burdens,
The profound depths of my pain.
In your infinite understanding,
May I find peace and love,
My spirit reaching towards
The solace of your compassionate embrace.
Dear God, let your smile grace my wearied countenance,
Illuminating the path as I traverse the trials of this desolate place.
In the twilight’s whispered prayer,
Within the sweet surrender to liquor’s embrace,
I seek but a fragment of peace,
A fleeting glimpse of your boundless grace.
Though I stumble and fall amidst this relentless test,
Let it be known that my love for you
Will forever find its resting place.
For I am naught but a human,
Flawed and fragile,
Yet in my unwavering devotion,
Let my spirit prevail,
Resolute in its pursuit
Of your eternal presence.
…
Copyright © Muhammad Nasrullah Khan | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Poem
Oh dear Artist, wield your brush upon my canvas,
Paint me naked, bared to the core of my essence,
Strip away the veils of societal pretense,
Reveal the raw truth that lies beneath this flesh.
Paint me drunk, with strokes of wild abandon,
Capturing the intoxication of life’s elixir,
For in its swirling depths, I find liberation,
A temporary respite from the chains of convention.
In this world, where life has been imprisoned,
Confined within the walls of civilization’s facade,
Human instincts suppressed, labeled as taboo,
Let your art be a rebellion, a vibrant outcry.
Let me stand before you, vulnerable and unadorned,
A testament to the raw beauty of authenticity,
For it is in our nakedness that we find freedom,
An escape from the suffocating confines of conformity.
Paint me with colors that defy societal norms,
Bold strokes that challenge the boundaries of expectation,
For art has the power to unveil our hidden desires,
To ignite a flame within that yearns to break free.
Oh dear Artist, through your strokes of defiance,
May my nakedness and drunkenness be celebrated,
Embraced as a testament to the human spirit,
And may your canvas be a gateway to liberation.
Copyright © Muhammad Nasrullah Khan | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Poem
In the passage of time, my love has grown old without you,
A fragile flower, aching for the touch of morning dew.
Once, our dreams interlaced, and we painted sunsets bold,
Casting vibrant hues across the sky, a tapestry to behold.
But now, those sunsets fade, their brilliance turned to gray,
Devoid of their true view, lost in shadows of yesterday.
The keys of my piano, once alive with melodies divine,
Now bear the weight of weariness, a touch that can’t align.
Their ivory surfaces struck, yet the enchanting tunes they bear
Are but whispers in the silence, echoes of a fervent prayer.
The melodies that danced upon its strings with grace and flair
Now lie silent, forlorn, robbed of their lyrical air.
Like ink slowly fading from the page, my poems lose their might,
Words once soaring with passion now drift, lacking their true light.
The colors that once painted emotions with vivid hue,
Pale and diminish, yearning for the inspiration that was you.
Their essence wanes, their impact diminished and undone,
As the guiding light of your inspiration remains undone.
Silence, my companion, sits beside me, constant and near,
A desolate presence, casting a chilling tone of fear.
Spaces we once shared are cloaked in a quiet despair,
Where your voice, a symphony, once filled the empty air.
Now they stand empty, haunted by the memories of past,
A reminder of love’s absence, a void that seems to last.
Abandoned by your songs, I dwell in solitude’s grip,
Confined within these walls, in a lonesome, mournful trip.
Life moves around me, a playful breeze, carefree and bold,
Carrying laughter that seems to mock the dreams I hold.
Their merriment amplifies the ache of unfulfilled desires,
Highlighting the void within, where longing never tires.
Yet, even in this darkness, a glimmer of hope remains,
A flicker of light that stirs, defying melancholy’s chains.
For love, though weathered and worn by time’s ceaseless flow,
Can find renewal and bloom like a flower’s resilient glow.
The symphony of life can regain its rhythm and song,
With melodies unwritten, and harmonies that belong.
With every word written and every step I take,
I reclaim fragments of my being, the essence I remake.
The flame within rekindles, igniting dreams anew,
Transcending sorrow’s confinements, embracing life’s debut.
For in the depths of my resilient soul, there lies a key,
Unlocking the beauty that still resides within me.
Copyright © Muhammad Nasrullah Khan | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Poem
I have thrown out all the rules,
No rhyme or meter to follow through.
Just thoughts of you,
And the way you walk under the trees.
You are the figure of speech,
The embodiment of beauty and grace.
With each line, my heart does reach,
And the words begin to take shape.
Like a bird, I am drawn back,
To the place where my heart is never slack.
And in my heart, you always rest,
The one I love, the one I bless.
A lonely bird, coming back to its nest,
My thoughts of you, never at rest.
As the words flow from my pen,
My love for you, gets its reign.
The words I write, they speak of you,
Of all the love that we’ve been through.
And as I write, my heart takes flight,
A love that’s endless, full of light.
As the words flow from my pen,
My love for you spills out again.
It dances on the page, so true,
A never-ending ode to you.
So here I am, writing free verse
With nothing to hold me back
My pen dances to the rhythm of the universe
As I pour out my soul on the blank track.
In these lines, my love remains,
A treasure that forever sustains.
As long as I have pen and page,
My love for you will never fade.
…
Copyright © Muhammad Nasrullah Khan | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Poem
God, my mother told me,
You are the embodiment of love.
Since then, I have adored you most.
But I wonder do you understand me?
I read your book in the foreign language
of those who rule us.
Are you on the side of missionaries
who pour money into their coffers?
Do you not hear the cry of the children who sleep on dirt floors?
Their souls evaporate into the night
— the dark and cold embrace of death.
How can you ignore
the suffering of a child?
Or the landscape of poverty that swallowed his mother
and misplaced his dad?
He cries in his own language.
Do you understand that language too?
Malnourished mothers ‘milk dries in their breast;
They can no longer feed their babies.
Their hands raise to you in despair.
Can’t you see, God?
A father who does not beg or steal, starves.
He looks towards you before hanging himself.
I believe you can’t be blind to the sight.
Do you greet and welcome his fractured soul?
A poor young girl screamed before being raped
You’re not deaf.
Starvation, neglect, illness, and cruelty
are not different in your holy book.
Unless you don’t understand
when they’re said in my language.
Is the emotion behind them the same,
no matter the place, no matter the people?
Outside a fancy shopping mall,
A little girl sells colorful balloons
to buy medicine for her mother.
She looks towards the sky,
and talks to you.
Do you feel her despair?
A woman on her knees at a corner begs for coins,
a tiny baby in her arms.
In pain, she calls You.
Do her prayers reach You?
Or are they the wrong language?
Do you live in her empty bowl?
The World is Your creation.
Why won’t you listen, almighty savior?
Do You sleep inside a nascent dream?
We ask only for a piece of bread,
no matter if it’s stale; we don’t care.
We are hungry.
But we receive humiliation and hunger.
I don’t dare say
You have a careless heart.
But — could it be true?
Oh, God! Will Your Kingdom never come?
We yearn to walk the road to the edge of the light;
where there is no hunger or death,
where sun does not sting bare skin.
Where intangible, indiscernible
words do not wound us.
Our breath grazes the candle’s flame,
at a saint’s tombstone.
The flame struggles, in its last moment,
to live or to die.
Are we that candle?
Or smoke dissipating in the darkness?
Copyright © Muhammad Nasrullah Khan | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Poem
The UN Rides on Human Skeletons
By
Muhammad Nasrullah Khan
The UN’s representatives
Suited in beautiful attire
Torchbearers of justice
Warriors against poverty
They strut before cameras
Magic bags in hands,
Walking, heads bowed
Carrying weight of the planet.
They ponder destiny of the bleeding earth
Sitting on cozy chairs
The Secretary General pushes peace
Promising of better days.
Far from the cameras
Missing limbs
Pay the Cost of War
Leaving behind hungry orphaned children
Suffering unending grief.
In the name of patriotism
Young soldiers, torn from family
Their eyes like kittens
Separated from mother
They sleep in ditches dug in mud
They kill the enemy during the day
And see the dead, dancing and laughing at night.
Guilt cripples them more than battle
In the loneliness these “brave” men
Curse the curses their generals spat at the enemy.
Peace
This promise rides on human skeletons
So absurd, amid a stretch of war.
Eight-year old Olena lies in a Ukraine hospital
The sun colors her dolls
Left in a broken pieces of home
Her burnt body, an unread page of her cut-short life
What worth is the UNO to her?
She never chanced at hello
Could only say goodbye.
News cameras in Afghanistan,
An old man rasping with languid lungs
Buries his young son
Wiped-Out
Because he was a singer
UNO charter sings
Peace, dignity, and equality
On a healthy planet.
The blue wrecked ship sinks
Peace mocks through shattered spars
Sleeping on flowery mats
The Security Council dreams
Another amazing sermon
Preaching peace to the world-wide family
Discovering love in human DNA.
Copyright © Muhammad Nasrullah Khan | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Poem
She stands behind the glass,
Her towel in hand, so still,
Watching as the snowflakes fall
Like stars against the winter’s chill.
I watch her, where she pauses,
Still and contemplative, gazing out at the world.
What does she see in those snowflakes?
A blanket of white, a city of cold towers, white mountains?
Maybe she recalls a time
When life was harder still,
As a young girl working the fields,
To save her cottage, her only shield.
Does she remember her youth, working
Hard in the fields of a cruel landlord,
Striving for wheat grains to survive?
Or does she think of her family, left behind?
Or maybe she remembers her lover,
Left behind in those fields of toil,
Lost to the whims of a cruel landlord,
Leaving her heart heavy with sorrow.
Maybe she watches the lonely bluebird
In the snow that matches her life
As it flutters and dips, without a word
A picture of loneliness and strife.
Maybe she wonders if the bird knows
How it echoes her deepest fears
If it feels the weight of her sorrows
As it braves the bitter tear.
She cleans the tables, quiet and calm,
As I watch her, lost in thought,
Wondering what lies within her heart,
What memories she has brought.
As she stands there, lost in thought,
I can’t help but wonder what she sees,
In the snowflakes falling gently,
Against the cold glass surface.
Copyright © Muhammad Nasrullah Khan | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Poem
When words fall short,
I sit in the world's shadows.
Watching the world through my window,
I rejoice absurd songs.
Life spills in laissez faire economics,
consuming dreams to rust.
Forgotten blue and white banners flutter.
Wind sighs in Red Oaks,
echoing the doleful cries of a lonesome.
The song rises:
a kite lifted by a gust
of ethereal wind.
Through my window,
humans look like pieces of unknown debris.
Scattered and strewn without rhyme nor reason,
Withered leaves swish through the grass,
Dandelions soar through the air
Rain falls like the tears of a homeless boy,
while a little girl sings::
"The Lord is taking a bath today."
A street sweeper laughs:
"Now I understand why God is cold."
Migratory birds fly by,
their eyes to the skies.
Angry crows peck the snow.
A duck walks towards the edge of a frozen lake,
staring at the surface.
A lyrebird cries from a bed of reeds.
Who am I to judge them?
I am no savior or hostage.
But merely human corruption, tattooed with invisible ink
on pages of The New York Times that keep me warm.
I’m forced up against a window,
I peer through refracted lenses.
I envy those people who finished themselves.
They didn’t desire heaven or fear hell.
Imagining nothingness,
they jumped to taste the bottom.
Fear of the unknown keeps me alive in this void,
we call life.
I open the window
and watch as life goes by
like a bat’s dream.
©Poet: Muhammad Nasrullah Khan
Copyright © Muhammad Nasrullah Khan | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Poem
I’m a commoner
fighting the demons of bills, of food, of life.
My meager pension enough to buy
slippers and a jacket at a thrift store.
Once, I sought stars
Now
I hide behind a trashcan of dreams.
I am a statistic,
known only by my photo ID.
A bomb blasts and news channels read:
Another sixty or so,
dead.
Death pauses eating
but soon resumes her feast.
I am a number on her dining table.
I have no place for pride,
crawling for crumbs of life
with mangled hands.
Years ago
as I stepped through white moaning snow,
I met a pretty girl
taking shelter for a bus
like a freshly feathered bird
I snipped through white moaning snow.
Her hazel eyes flicked towards mine.
Snagged for a moment —
ice on a stove.
We loved in blessed silence
She, a promised paradise.
But pledges faded
like colors of rainbow:
purple, blue, yellow, and colors never seen.
I slept there for a while,
and awoke to wind’s sad song
birds mourning
cold reality tugging my naked dreams.
Many years later
We met again under that shelter
She with her children
Me with mine.
She held mortgage papers
I clutched my rent receipts
We did not speak
but smiled at how rotten fate
spread over our lives
a poor sketch of a tombstone —
cemetery hidden under cypress trees.
We lived between heaven and hell.
Where once, we jumped in a sea of life
and fell into commonness’ jaw.
Stuck in the panes of sky
I wait for God to open His door,
and reply to my hungry prayers.
Link: https://allpoetry.com/poem/16503782-A-Common-Mans-Love-Story-by-Muhammad-Nasrullah
Copyright © Muhammad Nasrullah Khan | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Poem
Dear Canada, if I were an artist,
I would paint the world with your beauty,
A masterpiece for all to see,
As I know it to be.
Oh, the beauty of my land,
With its sunsets creeping in the rain,
And clouds shining on the rocks,
Like moving lights in the sky.
The night flowers would be my stars,
Pumping out their chests like small artists,
Playing red violins with grace and charm,
Creating a symphony of nature’s art.
And as the twilight settles in,
I would capture the dance of amber trims,
Like a dream of a mother with pure eyes,
Watching over her children with love and pride.
Canada, you are a canvas of wonder,
A mosaic of colors, sounds, and life,
A symphony of nature’s beauty,
That fills my heart with joy and delight.
Dear Canada, know that your beauty,
Is etched in my heart forevermore,
A masterpiece that I will always cherish,
And a love that will forever soar.
…
Copyright © Muhammad Nasrullah Khan | Year Posted 2023
|
|