POETS’ CORNER

Poems foreverWhat is our life What is our life? The play of passion. Our mirth? The music of division: Our mothers’ wombs the tiring-houses be, Where we are dressed for life’s short comedy. The earth the stage; Heaven the spectator is, Who sits and views whosoe’er doth act amiss. The graves which hide us from the scorching sun Are like drawn curtains when the play is done. Thus playing post we to our latest rest, And then we die in earnest, not in jest.By Sir Walter Raleigh Molecular WorldBy Kaka KhanI have to break the bondI have to make a bondAs the vapours condense to waterThe minerals manipulate to a roasterAs day is to night, night to daySubdue each other as a preySo is my bosom and regret correspondEntangled with an ardent bondBut regret is a bit mischievousIt annoys the bosom zealousWhy I care you too muchWhy I value you too muchWhy I don’t care myself a bitWhy I don’t value myself a bitI have to break the bondI have to make a bondThe bond of bosom and impenitenceWhich might content my existenceIf you are polite, I will dieIf you are rude, still I will dieFor the death needs life, life deathAffection and benevolence is life’s breathI have to break the bondI have to make a bond.An apologyBy Mashaal FaridDon’t please Interpret my sleek intentionIn frame of your wretched perceptionDon’t please Confuse it with some clash of clansThat was just my frozen beat and blocked sight in a dreadful fight of “than” Ah this choice of me and you...Tore my heels in the long runO my long irate fellow!You don’t know my storyBut can you accept my sorry?Scream outBy Binte HawaI want to scream out loud,Beyond the clichéd taboos,That fill up my soul My surroundings,I want the volcanoOf my emotions To outburst,Before it’s too late,I want people to let me be,I just want To breathe Before oxygen Is cut short,And my time Runs out,I want to scream out.GrowthBy Hafsa SardarNo tree bends the same,No individual grows in a uniform frame,No branch sprouts equal leaves,No person has a similar seek,I see the world through my glasses,You see it through yours,Then why do you expect me to grow;With eyes as another,Gray is my world through them,Blind am I through those seams.Flames UncontrolledBy Adnan Ahmad KhanThere were a myriad of starsAnd a moonAt its nightly primeAnd he was staring atThe flames uncontrolledIn her eyes.Compiled by SKKindly send your contibutions at: uspoetscorner@gmail.com

from The News International - US https://ift.tt/2HO7Nia