sallam yassin

(05/06/1968 / Hargeisa, Somaliland)

Progress


Childern play football on the road
because on their play ground
their father built a mall

Submitted: Thursday, November 29, 2012

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Progress by sallam yassin )

Enter the verification code :

  • Lasoaphia Quxazs (12/13/2012 2:10:00 PM)

    Yes, this is the world, always progressing. My time was different, your time is different and I am sure the next generation's life will be completely different.
    Life is spiraling forward, and only God knows where it goes, but each generation have challenges what they have to solve. There is no good or bad, there is only life challenges. We are the ones who create our own problems, and we are the only ones who can solve them.
    And only those dies who cannot learn anymore.
    Think about that. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Bijay Kant Dubey An Expert on Jayanta Ma.., Bijay Kant Dubey
  2. Living ‘In Fear' of The Lord, Brian Johnston
  3. what now?, cece rodriguez
  4. In To The Train To Pakistan, Bijay Kant Dubey
  5. Hell, Jake Glenney
  6. Mary Beth, Jake Glenney
  7. Nothing, Jake Glenney
  8. Furtive Infatuation, Darlene Pagunsan
  9. Welcome My Darling, Joseph Narusiewicz
  10. Birth is a, gajanan mishra

Poem of the Day

poet Emily Dickinson

239

"Heaven"—is what I cannot reach!
The Apple on the Tree—
Provided it do hopeless—hang—
That—"Heaven" is—to Me!

...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet John Burroughs

 

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]