Fathers will carry toys for their children in plastic bags, not their children...
Poems forever
By Maya Angelou
I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Children.
Memory of old tombs,
Rotting flesh and worms do
Not convince me against
The challenge. The years
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines along my face.
They dull my eyes, yet
I keep on dying,
Because I love to live.
By Abid Agha
I miss you every autumn,
when trees begin to shed their leaves—
vibrant hues
that keep my eyes
glued to nature’s marvellous art.
The way this autumn begins
reminds me of your last tear.
A palette of colours spills around,
outshining once the tender shades
that shimmered in your eyes.
In your quiet absence,
I hold the rusty, purple, crisp leaves
close within my hands,
whisper your name,
feel their frail touch, their fading scent—
then let them go softly,
the way you said adieu to my world,
leaving behind nothing...
but the whisper of a cold, harsh winter.
By Nida Irfan
Another round of ruination,
Lit up to cause distraction.
For them it's addiction,
For me it's evasion.
Breathed the air of my destruction,
Many called it mortification,
Ignoring others’ depravation,
Showed their tarnished perception,
Accepted it for the sake of fake relaxation.
By Alina Yasir
They build their Romes
In a day,
While you are left stranded
Without a say.
It takes you miles of walks
And hundreds of self-talks
To carry a brick
In hopes of building
A tower.
Their skyscrapers,
High rising,
Make you cower.
But child,
Once they shatter,
They're gone forever,
To be unremembered.
You and me,
When we fall,
We do not crumble.
We rebuild brick by brick.
Lions we are, after all
We only roar and rumble.
By Umaima Hoorain
I pray for the day when
Palestine will be free.
The day when
Children will wake up to the light of the Sun,
not bombs.
The day when
Fathers will carry toys for their children in plastic bags,
not their children.
The day when
Mothers will look for their children in playgrounds,
not rubble.
The day when
Ice cream trucks will carry ice creams,
not martyrs.
