Me
So many songs
And poems
You might
Have written
But you have forgotten
To write about me
As I am neither
Extraordinary
Or below
Ordinary
I am very common
Exceptionally normal
But I am in the middle
Very voluminous
And rotundly weighty
I can stop the blowing
Of the wind
And flowing
Of the river
I can bring down
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poem by Abdul Wahab
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Dullard's Diatribe
Life is poetry, how it can be!
Life is without rhyme and rhythm,
Poets seek flow and mystic music,
Life lacks both and stumbles like a freak,
All these are make believe and a false promise,
Truth lies in meter and foot, a fool's paradise!
Life, poetry, truth and beauty in different tracts,
Truth is bitter beauty is sweet, in fact a true fact.
So No truth and no beauty in poetry, all are bogus
A hoodwinking, blackmailing and logically fallacious.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Unfortunate man
Unfortunate man
No lamp burns
As the lamp of love
No cloud rains
As the cloud of love
No water flows
As the water of love
No wind blows
As the wind of love
No pleasure is more
Than the pleasure of giving
No return is more golden
Than the return of love
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poem by Abdul Wahab
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Love at first sight
Wasted the time
In choosing the impossible
Among the figments of imaginations
The most capable
My super hero
Mind said right
First time first sight
The soul felt
Dykes broke
All the doors opened
All the roads met
The rivers flowed
Hope danced on the floor
The breath stopped
My super hero
Fist time said hello
Ears melted immediately
With the melodious song
The heart took a loud bang
First time first sight
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poem by Abdul Wahab
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Ball Bearing (Two)
Beauty and wonder
In opposites
And uneven things lie
The warmonger
Applies force and fight
To make things even and flat
In monotony
The diversity cries
The thorns and the counter force
When you oppose
They will give you
More pains and sorrows
High or low
Odd or uneven
I start a smooth ride
Journey is a joy and fun
Tensions and troubles
I release
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poem by Abdul Wahab
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Bigger Poet
Religion cosmos divine truth revelation
God hell heaven and incarnation are
the big things small poets take on
The bigger is the poet smaller is the thing
charms magnificence tit bit and wonder
He writes on, the very common with
mighty observation, gives a model figure
on his speech: how daily the spoon steals
his dish, the rose in the heart with thorns
makes him bleed, delight hides behind
views just he needs to seek the point
here, he kills the cliché.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Horse
I used to make my horse run
Very fast and into you, oh, deep sea
To meet you and say ‘'I live for you ‘'
But my heart never ceased
Without a good news
And still it beats for you
Once it was very grand and gorgeous
Now a bit tired and tattered
Though it knows how to swim
But at far distances
It does not see any shore
Yet if there is a storm in the sea
Violent and tumultuous
All around dark and bleak
While all the boats are useless
This old horse is the only means
poem by Abdul Wahab
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What Is Life (ii)
Under the tight grip
Of total emptiness
I stood alone
In a pensive mind
On a lonely ground
Wild Memories crowded in
Unruly, started fighting.
Anarchy rolled
From the top
Of the treacherous hill
Dyke broke
Tears rolled down
Tumultuous feelings
Rushed in
From inside out
Kicked and butted
Like a bull.
Jaws tighten
Complexities turned
More complicated
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poem by Abdul Wahab
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Xxxxx
You have no right
To show your hanging face
The lousy laughing wounds
Deep and red
Of rejection and hate
In return of love and care
As you are neither dullard
Nor haggard dull
Drink pain and sorrow
Conceal the real scene
None here to concern or understand
Every one wants to see
Weakness and is busy to show
So Keep showing your smiling face
Beautiful moon full
It does not mean
All things for you are right
But you are bitten by
Shrewd and intelligent bug.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Dream and Life
I used to make my horse run
Very fast and to the south sea
To meet you and say ‘'I live for you ‘'
But my heart never ceased
Without a good news
It still beats for you
Once it was very grand and gorgeous
Now a bit tired and tattered
Though it knows how to swim
But at far distances
It does not see the shore
Yet if there is a storm in the sea
Violent and tumultuous
All around dark and bleak
While all the boats are useless
This old horse is the only means
poem by Abdul Wahab
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