The smile of a child lost in a conflict,
the wails of a mother echoing in my ears.
The cloak of a bride tainted red,
her groom's blood spilled all over.
The tears in the eyes of a mother in wait,
of his son disappeared in a moonless night.
A bony old face trampled by jackboots,
height of tyranny under the mighty chinars.
I remember the childhood caught in barbed wires,
I remember the blood of martyrs of my soil.
©Hyder
A very good and strong poem Aaqib, though i hope you not to capitalize all letters..keep writing! _Soul
The blood of martyrs of my blood. good poem. thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
@Unwritten soul: Thanks for the suggestion :)