Biography of Abdul Wahab
Abdul Wahab Poems
>≫≫I Want To Die
Heavenly cursed and heavily sinned I No more i like to add them, so, I want to die And I want to become a holy ghost Whom the people would like the most.
The Song Unsung
So many people have sung so many songs On and from earth to heaven but they have not sung me I am the song
>≫≫Whom Do I Belong To?
Sometimes I wonder If there is a better species than me But I found after so much search and hard work Human being is the supreme
>≫O Love Love Love Love Love Love ...
I love my love As love should love But you never love As my love should love me.
The sight of the hills is a beauty The bright moon is the sign of purity The flow of the river is a murmuring music The act of the sun is so philanthropic.
>≫≫I Know What Love Is!
I know what seeing is! As I saw you that day for the first time So I know what liking is!
>≫A Poet's Journey
The first poem was a wonder The second was a surprise. The third poem made me a poet, The fourth gave me a name and fame.
A lot of praise and admiration I got when I was full of innocence Now, I am under crook clumsy seductive adolescence. Keeping head straight, running life difficult a lot Sensing the senses makes me a bewildered pot.
How Could They Dare To Kill The Crowd?
I stood straight Legs were one foot wide Fingers were one inch apart Suddenly, I threw my hands up.
>≫≫≫The Book Of My Life (One...
In between my decorative cover I laid a lot of colourful words In red, blue, green and white In black, sorrow and pain
Oh, butterfly, butterfly, why do you flutter by? Why can not you fly straight, and have any weapons to fight?
>≫A True Friend
When the burden of life is too much as the rain
Oh, Teacher! If You One Day Become My St...
Oh! Teacher, Oh! Teacher, If you, one day, become my student, and I become your Teacher. Before I teach you
Oh! Mirror the most loveable, cunning queen You reflect in mostly whatever you have seen. Face is the mirror of the soul Literature is the face of the society as a whole
Dole Out Dull
You talk to me too much-
From hell and heaven to cricket match.
Still I find you a squib damp dump.
The gray matter remains nimble numb.
Poet to poet, poetry to poetry
You praise and praise.
Fragile domestic docile humble gullible-
No question learn to raise.