I think that we’re beginning to remember that the first poets didn’t come out of a classroom, that poetry began when somebody walked off of a savanna or out of a cave and looked up at the sky with wonder
The first poem
I think that we’re beginning to remember that the first poets didn’t come out of a classroom, that poetry began when somebody walked off of a savanna or out of a cave and looked up at the sky with wonder and said, “Ahhh.” That was the first poem.
- Lucille Clifton
The bat
By Isaac Umer
While the children played outside and made it merry.
Little Vlad sat in his room, feeling feeble and dreary.
Not just his family, but in the whole town of Sprout.
He was, quite lonely and a cast out.
Chocolate, for which every little child craves.
Had he no desire, but desired to live in caves.
Children of his age read Blyton, to Merryland did they go.
The only thing he enjoyed, was to read Edgar Allan Poe.
In his room did he sit, turning off all the lights.
Loathing the bright days, loving the dark nights.
Sat he today in the room, feeling terrible pain in his navel.
An insidious voice, strangling him, shouting “I’m the devil”.
His mother rushed to him, such actions drove her mad.
Out of her great anger, she shouted at him and said.
“You ain’t the devil but man, man made of clay.
Leave this dark room, go out in sun and play.”
Little, did she know of the sin she’d just done.
Ordering little Vlad, and that to go in the sun!!
Into her white neck, went his sharp pointed teeth.
Extracting out all her blood and every single breath.
Lifeless! She fell. Once a woman now a corpse.
For the murder just done, had Vlad no remorse.
Rushed his dad and brother, to find out what took place.
Horrified were they, to see their beloved lying on her face.
For the culprit, they rushed their eyes, Dad and his brother Matt.
But nobody was to be found, but an evil, evil looking BAT!
The ugly truth
By Aamna Saleem Khan
I sit on a log, staring at the darkness,
Away from the crowd and all the madness,
I have bid goodbye to the air of chaos,
It was too loud; I am glad for the loss,
Wearing tux and dresses; they get hysterical,
Hollow dead eyes; their laugh is superficial,
They all are hiding a twin inside,
Stuffed with fakeness; they walk with pride,
The red horns fabricated by the scent of money,
The shining gold coins blind rest of the dummies,
The evil eye is taking over the globe,
The superheroes have taken off their cloaks and are sitting in robes,
True love is hard to find,
Looking for sincerity is a daily grind,
Number of ‘likes’ determining popularity,
Leading only to social insecurity,
People screaming to make their way,
All so busy, night and day,
Guns, bombs, terrorism
Stampeding the land in name of nationalism,
Loss of faith and loss of hope,
Drunken sick; they just roam,
I’ll sit on this log; looking at the moon,
Till the world goes down in BOOM!
Smoke
By Ambar Siddiq
One dark gloomy night,
The smoke from the ashes of my soul
Blended with the cold air,
As I treaded down memory lane,
For every next thing I saw,
Reminded me of you.
All this time...
By Laraib Zakir
I looked for you in the autumn trees;
Between the lifeless leaves and rustling winds.
But you were not there.
I looked for you amidst the corroded brick walls;
Among their stale smell and dingy ridges.
But you were not there.
I looked for you from behind the smudged windows;
Beyond the shattered glass and sinking reflections.
But you were not there.
I looked for you amongst the clouded skies;
In the midst of thunders and bewildered lightning.
But you were not there.
Because all this time, you were never there.
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