Though I don’t claim perfection, it's my soul's reflection... Poetry, too, is etched within each sketch...
Poems forever
By Emma Lazarus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride
from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset
gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild
eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!”
cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
By Abid Agha
I choose a canvas,
An easel, a palette of colors, and a brush.
I paint strings of imagination,
Portraying unmet dreams and desires.
My emotions, vibrant and creatively expressed,
Carry the bliss and joy, forever expressed.
As my painting nears its end,
The colors on the canvas set a new trend.
My art wields the power of illusion,
Though I don’t claim perfection, it's my soul's reflection.
Poetry, too, is etched within each sketch,
Colors alive, displayed on the cutting edge.
My painting, an endless dance of hues,
With no destination, no boundaries, no rules.
Art lovers gaze and comprehend my creation,
Each interpretation unique, a personal revelation.
By Noman Aslam
In my world of laughter and play,
I dance through every bright day.
With sparkling eyes and a soul so free,
Everyone should explore the world like me.
Leave your worries far behind,
And let no one catch your joyful mind.
Dream happily under the stars' light,
Inshallah, Allah Almighty will make you bright.
By Zeba Aziz
I saw him leaving
With those blurred
Eyes of mine.
The tears helped
Where eyes were
Helpless, like me.
For those eyes
Could never imagine
His departure
From me.
It kept pouring
Until he could
Barely be seen.
With each blink,
I wanted him
To look back
At me.
The hopes
Drained down
With those
Tears, badly.
The blurry scenario
Was cruel indeed,
As bitter and harsh
As any of the truth.
By Esha Bakht
Home is where the heart is.
When you are away,
The place you miss
Is the one that is called home.
So, wherever you roam,
The place stays in your heart.
Even for a while,
When you come miles and miles,
Home is truly a place that can never be apart.
By Ali Asghar Ghani
Behind
A beautiful piece of writing,
We will find
A soul,
Teeming with darkness, pain and
Melancholy.