No time to turn at Beauty's glance, And watch her feet, how they can dance...
Poems forever
By W. H. Davies
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
By Majda Ulfat
The ancient land of olive trees,
Where stones remember centuries,
Echoes with bombs and broken cries,
And helpless whispers beneath the skies.
While we stand frozen, blind to time,
They rise, they fall, they bleed, they climb.
Their voices call through smoke and night,
Their hopes endure despite the fight.
Yet their screams cannot awaken us
From our deep and endless sleep.
As they fade into the silence,
Their dreams lie buried, their wounds run deep.
Still, in their struggle, they summon their strength,
While our silence disappears from sight.
For the free are those who dare to stand tall,
Not those who watch as the shadows fall.
By Esha Bakht
I sang a song in melodious rhyme,
Recalling moments from another time.
I often thought of days gone by,
Though memory had grown
somewhat shy.
Such happy moments once were mine,
Their warmth still lingers through
the years.
Yet sadness quietly follows me,
For those days have disappeared.
My past is now forever gone,
And sometimes I feel all alone.
By Bahaar Abdullah
Out of this affliction,
Away from compulsion,
I long for a mansion
Where caution has no place.
I yearn for tranquillity
And true emancipation.
Your pretty days?
Cast them into oblivion.
In this cruel world,
Life is no child's play.
Bury your inclinations;
Leave no easy escape.
I count my breaths,
Changing hours into days,
Days into weeks,
Weeks into months,
Growing ever more forlorn.
Will my life ever begin?
Now I am utterly weary,
Living in this golden cage.
Please set me free.
Let me fly, touch the sky.
For my part, I shall not yield,
But strive for liberty until I die.
These golden chains
By which I am bound,
Cast them aside
And end this tyranny.
My life is fading in dying colours,
My spirit cold as stone.
By Abid Agha
The clouds gather like silent witnesses,
Bearing the weight of words I never spoke.
Then the sky sighs,
And raindrops begin to fall,
Soft as memories drifting home.
Each drop sketches my heart
Upon the waiting earth:
The joy I lost, the love I kept,
The wounds I hide beneath my smile.
The downpour carries every thought
I tried to bury in silence,
Unveiling them gently,
Not to wound,
But to remind me I am human.
As the earth drinks my secrets,
As the sky washes yesterday away,
I no longer hide my tears.
I feel myself grow lighter, renewed,
Reborn in the story
The rain has whispered quietly across my world.
