I have lingered long in doubt,
And in darkness, Whispering to
The walls caged around me in
Chain,
...
O soul survivors,
Listen to the voice
Of a plagued poet,
For the days of my prime,
...
" ALETTER TO LIBYA"
This were the voice of the
Victims, crying beneath their
...
It has been established,
And accomplished,
The little lamb finally
lay to rest;
...
This were the poetry of
A broken page,
That every written word
Is a poem of pain
...
I will never live to
Leave you, for the day
I do will be the date
They burn my body,
...
In the beginning was
My dear country, which
Now is my death country
Then with her virgin land
...
Dear dolly, from the
Darkest dungeon of
My heart I wrote from
Hell, and if failed to
...
Who thought that I
Will see this new
Dawn of the day, the
First born of a year
...
Far from a thousand
Years I have longed
For this dream, yet
It's seems far fetched
...
How many men, sons
And souls you have
Spield and spiked
With your beauty, who
...
That night, under the
Fig tree, when your
Eyes'like those of
Doves'beams'and blinks
...
Once upon a time when
I stood as a trained
Student to pour out my
Poems on the podium and
...
At the eye closure of
the skies it comes
one brief moment, the eyes open
and here it comes again
...
I have dwelt in the
Thoughts and tents of
My heart in torture,
...
A black day for
a dark man, was
the last of a poet,
yet in his agony
...
Broken Heart
Will I not stay a
Moment without
Mourning, and craving
For you? you break
Bread, and wine with
Me, and embraced me
In love, yet you lied,
I lived for love which
Thereafter killed, and
Stained my soul, but my
Body blaze for revenge,
What then do I know of
Love if not that poets
Promise to die for them,
But they were all shadow
Words of a mortal man,
Like a priceless pearl
I had you, yet you hurt
The heart that hold you
high'now I prayed that
You pay the price of your
Pride, for you left me
With nothing but to live,
And lost
hi friends in the race to life, one has to start somwhere, so as to have tales to tell tomorow
In the race to struggle, and survivor, one has to start somewhere so as to have tales to tell tomorrow.
the words of poetry are like the river that flows joyfully in the heart of its lovers