As players march, with spirits bold and true.... Their faces gleam, ambition in their eyes ....
Poems forever
By Sara Teasdale
I lift my heart as spring lifts up
A yellow daisy to the rain;
My heart will be a lovely cup
Altho' it holds but pain.
For I shall learn from flower
and leaf
That color every drop they hold,
To change the lifeless
wine of grief
To living gold.
By Zoya Adil
The echo of childhood laughter fades
As responsibilities start to weigh
We chase the memories of the past
Trying to hold on, but they don’t last
We grow up, but lose our way
In the maze of life, we are forced to stay
The toys we once played with
Are now lost, in memories that have strayed
Life is not easy as it seems now
And we are searching for a way to break this pain somehow
The hidden sweet delights
Now chase us every night
Nothing is what it was before
We are nothing but grey ore
Emotions are a big mess
I know I’m not the only one to confess
By Binte Hawa
When the days are hard,
And symphonies
Don't make any sense,
The heaviness
Takes the weight
Of pride away.
Then, to align,
To compose
Everything together,
All back again,
The evolution
Of emotion
Finally
Revolutionizes
All fears
Into nothing but courage.
By Abid Agha
I am the twelfth player, by the field I stand,
A hopeful figure, yearning to command.
To grace the green, my talents to unfold,
A story waiting, yet to be told.
The sunbeams dance, a golden, vibrant hue,
As players march, with spirits bold and true.
Their faces gleam, ambition in their eyes,
Chasing glory, beneath the summer skies.
I, too prepare, with zeal and burning desire,
To ignite the field, a soul on fire.
But shadows lengthen, as the day descends,
And fading light, my fleeting hope
transcends.
The match concludes, my chance
remains unseen,
But hope remains, a flicker, ever keen.
The twelfth player waits, for the
morning light,
To rise again, with renewed might.
An unwavering commitment no oversight
By Syeda Maqsoom
In silence thick, where whispers softly tread,
Complaints, like ghosts, emerge from
heavy hearts.
The words unsaid, a weight upon the head,
A silent language, tearing souls apart.
Each glance averted, a story left untold,
A sigh suppressed, a tension in the air.
A tapestry of feelings, growing cold,
Woven with resentment, and with
deep despair.
The smile so forced, a fragile, thin disguise,
Concealing wounds that fester
and that burn.
A yearning for connection,
in tear-dimmed eyes,
A silent plea, for lessons we must learn.
The unspoken hurts, they linger
and they stay,
Like shadows stretching long
across the floor.
They haunt the spaces, through
the night and day,
And choke the chance to heal
and to restore.
Oh, to release the burdens that we bear,
To find the voice to speak what lies within,
To break the silence and to truly dare,
And let the healing, cleansing grace begin.
