Poems by
Mohammed Ansari P H Dr


a poem by Mohammed Ansari P H Dr

Thy the few idiotic beloveds set up murder,
Thy the old man preparing to suicide,
Thy some one waiting for assassination,
Thy few weeping deep in heart.

O! I hear the sobbing of innocents,
O! the one among whom I contacted,
O! his frustration and fear,
O! how sad almighty.

How the way he stretches his hand,
How the way he jumps in to black hole,
How low pitched his request,
How can I lend him a hand O God?

Them who did calculated miscalculation,
Them the one who ignores advises, did only tragic blunders,
Them “why we should listen brothers opinions, it only his opinions”
Them God please takes care and lead through right path.

I feel the blackness of black September,
I feel the frenzy coldness,
I feel the tragic horrifying October,
I feel the emptiness.