All Poems
/ page 13 of 3210 /Death and Co
© Sylvia Plath
Two, of course there are two.
It seems perfectly natural now——
The one who never looks up, whose eyes are lidded
And balled¸ like Blake's.
Who exhibits
Rubaiyat
© Tanwir Phool
Jo lamHa guzartaa hai who keya detaa hai?
Dauraaniya-e-zeest bataa detaa hai
Aie Phool ! ghaTaa umr se ik aur baras
Jaataa huwaa har saal sadaa detaa hai
Rishta-e-jism-o-jaaN
© Tanwir Phool
Please see these links for Tanwir Phool's poetry :
http://forum.urdujahaan.com/viewtopic.php?f=18&t=4969
O My Native Land(English translation of Urdu poem"Aie Watan")
© Tanwir Phool
O my native land !
O my native land !
Far better than a garden
Is your dust and sand
Naat
© Tanwir Phool
Muhammad(SAWAWS) Rah-e-Haq dikhaanay ko aa'ey
GunaahoN sey ham ko bachaanay ko aa'ey
Hamd
© Tanwir Phool
Tiri Qudrat ko yaa Rab ! zarray zarray sey a'yaaN dekhaa
Qamar maiN ,shams maiN ,anjum maiN Tujh ko zaufishaaN dekhaa
On the Welch Language
© Katherine Philips
If honor to an ancient name be due,
Or riches challenge it for one that's new,
Portuguese sea
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
Oh salted sea, how much of your salt
Are tears of Portugal!
For crossing you, how many mothers wept,
How many children prayed in vain!
Ode of Ricardo Reis
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
To be great, be whole: nothing
Yours exaggerate nor delete.
Comment
© Dorothy Parker
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Roumania.
Song of Sorrow
© Olu Oguibe
I shall sing you a song of
Sorrow when the moment comes.
It is the way of poets.
I am bound to this Land by blood
© Olu Oguibe
I have cried so often with broken men
And peered into a million faces blank
Faces without bodies bodies without faces
The owners of nothing breakers of stone
The owners who are owned I have known them all
All because i loved you
© Olu Oguibe
once i wrote with the irreverence of youth
and the fire of a heart burning to ash
The Four Seasons
© Obi Nwakanma
The forest hugs them
carves them into stones,
Etches them into the slow
eastern landscape: rivers, hills
the slow running water,
times broken inscapes…
Nadia
© Obi Nwakanma
Marrakech: the grey hairs of
Atlas, streaks of the light of years,
like truth accompanied by a bodyguard.
Lion and Honeycomb
© Howard Nemerov
He asked himself, poor moron, because he had
Nobody else to ask. The others went right on
Talking about form, talking about myth
And the (so help us) need for a modern idiom;
The verseballs among them kept counting syllables.
The Earthly Paradise: Apology
© William Morris
Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing,
I cannot ease the burden of your fears,