Abdul Wahab

Gold Star - 16,131 Points [Northern Wind , Suriya , Suzlon , Ruhida]

Comments about Abdul Wahab

  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/20/2016 9:08:00 AM)

    My poems and your poverty

    Some of my poems
    I place to you
    To read them out
    Read them anyway
    Silently or loudly
    Either way you lose nothing
    And don’t risk anything
    You will get knowledge
    And knowledge is power
    You will be powerful and rich
    In return I will be a poet
    You take a turn, very sharp
    As you wish not
    To make me a poet
    But you know I am very sorry
    No matter
    Whether i become a poet or not
    But obviously you become poor.

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  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/20/2016 3:10:00 AM)

    Life is like a poem

    The tree
    On the bank of the river
    Is life
    Experiences are like water
    Keep ever flowing
    Fishes are ideas
    The food of the soul and mind
    Leaves are words
    Being yellow
    Keep falling
    Fruits are the results
    We mold in a poem

    Thus, Life is a river
    And a poem is like a tree
    So, on the bank of a river
    Life is like a poem.

  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/20/2016 2:09:00 AM)

    To claim the vastness
    Of literature written in his own tongue
    Once a friend of mine said
    Whatever he is going to write
    He has found that has been written
    By the renowned poets
    Or by his peers
    This is the absurd way
    To show his narrowness
    And he touched the height of his foolishness
    When he sees the tiny dot of literature
    Written till date by all the poets of the world
    Writing is such kind of a thing
    That can break the rules of physics
    Randomness and e3lasticity
    The stuffs are so infinite that
    Can easily defeat the theories of mathematics
    A single world has many connotations
    And each impression is taken in different ways
    To add more
    Each ways has different angels
    Making a single point so diverse
    The mind of the world cannot hold
    Not to mention the depth
    It has so many varies and degrees
    That no one dare to fathom out
    Each moment is history
    And each page of a moment is full of stuffs of poetry
    We are unable to reflect all on our writing
    The huge amount experiences
    Gone through or gained by our mind
    Till date the race of man
    Has written nothing but a speck untold world.

  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/19/2016 2:12:00 PM)

    The beauty of danger

    For the beauty of danger
    Of the vertical steep
    i seek to climb
    To the highest peak
    With delight and pleasure
    At the top i mean to say
    Whoever or whatever
    Is small or tiny
    They go to exhibit their pride
    I sink with joy
    And reach at the bottom
    To find out the darkness
    To focus my light upon
    At the womb of every root
    For the thrill of risk
    I seek to walk
    The sharpest edge
    After crossing over the gorges
    I mean to say
    Whatever or whoever
    Is too easy safe and secure
    They must be anything
    But coward and dull
    For the excitement
    Of the unexpected results
    i seek to trail
    The unknown horizon
    At the curve I mean to say
    Whoever for the fear
    Has not stepped out
    They are the most deprived in life

  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/19/2016 3:54:00 AM)

    A poem like pony

    I remain awake at night
    And I walk the whole day
    In the field of ideas
    I pick them in abundance
    Write them like reaping crop
    Yet nothing comes up as I desire
    On the page I rub
    The marks of scratch are everywhere
    Step of thoughts fall pattering like the leaves
    Of an old oak tree of the autumn
    The ground is full and covered fully
    With words yellow
    And turning the colour white into black
    Like a failed crop of winter
    The pods I get but inside I find no grain
    I engage to search in the heap
    I come up with a design
    And I draw something with intense attention
    Again the picture appears hazy
    In no way I am getting the poem
    For so long I want to bring up
    The poem I want is like a pony
    On her back I wish to ride
    And like an explorer travel the whole world
    Peaks and bottoms
    Pits and gorges where
    Nature has kept her treasure of satisfaction
    In a box wonder
    Covered with flabbergasting astonishment
    Whole night I remain awake
    Whole day I keep walking for a single poem
    By which I can ride the coming world like a wise man.

  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/15/2016 9:36:00 AM)

    Stumble you get in treading the path of life
    Or you may get your steps upon dirt
    And inside develop a spot, a dot,
    A scratch even a crack
    To remove them you may try
    Collins, wheels, Nirma or acids
    But they will not get out
    In this case I may help you
    I am a trader
    I sell broom of forgiveness
    Buy to use it and see how they are gone with a swipe.

  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/14/2016 11:22:00 AM)


    I am challenged to prove
    That my knowledge and wisdom are not fakes
    By the books written by scholars eminent and ordinary
    I say, nay, you are all wrong
    I know something that the entire mankind knows not
    Nor knows the plants kingdom nor the animal species
    I know some secrets
    Which the entire books of the world cannot hold
    Now you may think something I misinterpret
    Or I am heavily misinformed
    But this is not the case
    I have checked and rechecked and find the same result
    I know what i know is solidly concrete
    I know the state of the word much before the living world
    Came to live
    On this soil upon this earth
    May be you are itching to know who am I?
    I am the page of the book of nature
    In another name I am called simply stone.

  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/14/2016 8:53:00 AM)

    A Poet Flower

    Over the boundary inside this continent
    There lived a poet where our holy lands meet
    I did not see her picture yet I am led to imagine
    By reading out her lovely executed poems
    That she must be very smart and unbelievably cute
    She has a knack to do a postmortem upon the poems
    Written by others by cutting and tearing apart
    And leaves a bulky comment like a person very erudite
    I believe I can also bisect trisect a poem easily
    And bring its intrinsic beauty inside out
    But I told her not to do that anymore in a voice very polite
    For doing so she would be a poet friend commentator
    Or a respected critique or a reputed doctor
    But if she writes fewer poems she will never be famous poet.
    My advice, I know, always bear fruits
    And out of it others gain enormous benefit
    But it comes back like a boomerang
    And bellow the hit me very hard
    And it is not for the first time that this happens like this way
    Many times I experienced like this and run in losses
    Yet I advise friends even after cutting my nose
    This is my kind heart-ed nature and habits
    And keep doing this spreading milk of good will and generosity
    She sensed it as she is too intelligent
    And quickly hid somewhere
    I launch a thorough search
    In shrubs, herbs and bushes
    yet I do not know her whereabouts
    She must be a flower now
    Bud she was when we met in summer,
    Now it is spring
    So I suppose somewhere
    For someone else she remains lying bloomed

  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/14/2016 4:06:00 AM)

    I Am A Piece Of Pebble

    This world is very rough and has edges which are very sharp
    Upon doing a little mistake you will be harmed immensely
    Or pull you down and cut you into sizes
    As they don’t know forgiveness nor they know revenge is a bloody word
    All these things happen because of their immaturity and
    For the ignorance that they nurture a lot
    Trees, flowers and rain shout at me and say I am wrong
    I tell them I have a strong desire
    And I wish my desire to be right was immediately fulfilled
    But how can I? As I have seen rolling down from hills to valleys
    From valleys to footpaths and sideways of roads
    Burning, tearing and spilling of fresh blood
    Here I find no wisdom, no sages i see to live
    Quick money is wanted by everyone without going through any hardship
    Everybody is blunt and all over here is the darkness of ferocity
    Yet upon this cruel piece of land I become round and smooth
    After every fall and collide I shun my claws and teeth
    And shine brightly to pleasure the eyes of haughty and pride
    And all these would not been possible
    If I were not born before you all and roll for centuries after centuries
    If I were not a piece of rock and later a piece of pebble

  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/8/2016 4:11:00 AM)

    An Untitled Poem

    Hardly had I written a four line poem
    Sooner become I bankrupt and gone out of ideas
    Yet I thought as a poet I had done quite well
    Too quick was the untitled poem in action
    And asked me to give her a solid good name
    But how can I? But under one strict condition
    Until and unless you bring me untainted fame.

Best Poem of Abdul Wahab

>≫≫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.
Like the retreating soldiers I like to come back
To my own permanent and eternal home
You may call it a suicide or martyrdom.

In my real home I see the news
Coming from the lipstick coated lips
In the television of my molten death
People are sobbing with a heavy breath.
The atmosphere is heavy and they feel the pain
This thrills me and gives a feeling of gain.

The only son of my ...

Read the full of >≫≫I Want To Die


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.
Unknown pricks me, the soul is heavy and restless
The world appearing suffocated ruthless.
Sentiment creeps in, around hard blowing the wind.
I do not know how to cool and keep quiet my mind.

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