Biography of Akhtar Jawad
I was born on 8th of February,1945 at 8 AM
Akhtar Jawad's Works:
- Ask Your Heart -new-
- Too Late -new-
- Birds In The Clouds -new-
- A Poet Is A Slave Of An Impulse -new-
- A Day Dreamer -new-
- Has The Man Born -new-
- Limit Of Trust -new-
- The Color Of Life -new-
- But The Smile -new-
- Love Is Acknowledged By Love -new-
- Million Deaths -new-
- Just Before Death
- A Flower Of Ethics
- An Escape Goat
Akhtar Jawad Poems
I Am In Love
I am often so attracted, Mesmerized and enchanted, Having watched pretty things, With magic in their wings,
A Teen Aged Widow
When the morning star, Sees first sun ray, And disappears, In grief and distress,
Burning and melting, Lightning but no thunder, Tears dropping drown like icicles, Freezing but not cool,
Friendship is an amazing relationship, I don't know how others understand, I don't know how others withstand, It is something hidden and locked by a zip.
A Broken Doll
When someone broke my heart, One never knew one was sitting in my heart, I am not picking broken pieces of my heart, I am picking pieces of someone,
A Great Poetess
Admired and enjoyed, As a guide I deployed, Messages I found, In her poems so profound,
A word widely misspelled, Dictionary adds and justifies, And over all accepted, A welcoming compromise.
A Guide For Girls In Love
A man who is never sentimental, Always discussing philosophy and ethics, Always busy in business dynamics, And not admires you when you're emotional,
An Innocent Love Affair
I watched a movie of Suraiya when I was a child, Suraiya was an Indian popular star, She exposed her tunes like a guitar, An appealing beauty making every one wild.
To A Muslim Assalam To A Hindu Ram Ram
I want to die at the place of my birth, No soil is better than that soil on this earth, Colors of that soil have a rainbow in it, Any other soil for me is misfit,
Two Flowers And The Bird
Alas! it's me who fell down in love! But one who got a crown in love, Almost alike both are pretty flowers, Smiled, Oh Bird! In your handsome bowers,
A Rose Flower
After a fine mild rain, I walked on the pavements, Of a garden of flowers, Aftershocks of showers,
Walking By Windows
The vagabond was once again on the window, Begging love and asking to open the gate, And the fairy inside the house reluctant, Said helpless she was being slave of the fate,
A Guide For Boys In Love
You are sitting on the bank of a lake, Engaged in fishing and smoking with silence, You are not interested in a particular fish, Depending entirely on your fate for the day.
I saw her photograph at home,
Liked her simple grace.
Saw her at a holy place,
Peace prevailing face.
I saw her on a modern town's roam,
Modern dressing modern style,
Posing for cameras and mobile,
A glorious past becoming futile.