Abdul Wahab

Gold Star - 19,183 Points [Northern Wind , Suriya , Suzlon , Ruhida]

Comments about Abdul Wahab

  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/24/2016 4:13:00 PM)

    Clandestine talk

    A wave surreptitiously tells many a thing to a shore
    The petals of a flower are kissed by the sun secretly
    A gust of wind whispers to heat
    Come with me I have many things to show
    I think I should not be left far behind
    And I am not a fool to say
    This is my turn and I have to say something
    Rather, I ran off from my turns though many things I had to say
    Today has come that opportunity
    Please, lend me your ear
    I will tell you something very rare
    And that too in a voice, sotto
    As a candlestick tells fire
    Or a piece of stone to another
    Be a spark, I am here like water, very thirsty
    Let my bud bloom
    I will make you a nightingale
    While I will burn, you will be a vapour bird
    A wax cloud dripping down to rise to sing together
    And bring pearls from the bottom of divine life, diving.

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  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/23/2016 9:30:00 AM)

    Do not go too far unnecessarily
    So to unable to be followed by others
    There you do not go where you are only one
    Lonely and alone
    Do not walk the road even a step on which
    You don’t get any companion
    As you know even to do things wrong
    Persons are needed at least two
    One is for doing the act
    And the other for being acted upon

  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/23/2016 9:24:00 AM)

    i am a burden on myself
    I need to set off to be light
    Or leave myself on a shore

    The light falls upon me
    Too rusty and dusty
    To clean things up
    On me I need to focus upon

    The burden I carry
    Me, myself and I
    I need to slow down
    Or drag myself out

    Time is there
    But too immature
    I need to shed me
    To find a cure.

  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/23/2016 9:19:00 AM)

    Strange Race

    When I see inside out
    I surprise to see human beings are really mad
    They have so much at hand to dispose
    Yet they love to feel void
    They sing not the nightingale inside
    Not allow the muse to write they have
    The child they got but let it not to dance
    Yet they go to feel empty
    And envy the ocean which has nothing except the waves;

    Inside them I see a mine
    Full of minerals and other costly elements to bring forth
    Yet they choose to feel vacant
    They use not the house where power is stored
    Not crack a bit enough to let the rays enter
    And flourish like the wild bushes
    Yet they walk miles to think
    They have nothing except emptiness

    This race of man must be strange
    To the animals and plants of this globe
    To see them to cry and to tell only blues
    When they have ocean like heart
    Hills like mind and valleys like feeling
    But they use them like stones, pea and nuts
    And go for telling what is like feeling zero.

  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/20/2016 1:30:00 PM)

    A Story within a Story

    Having plots within plots
    I suppose it was a story
    And telling you that with zeal
    It was very complicate
    So, for a moment I paused
    And dived to think
    The story is telling about us
    And we are ourselves the characters
    But nowhere is the author, writer
    This is a big trick played upon us
    And treated us, as if, we are pawns
    Meanwhile you go impatience
    And pressed me to tell you
    The part next
    But how I can tell you, you are trapped
    So I pretend to forget the story
    And quickly came to the end
    To tell you that the boat sank
    If the boat didn’t sink I would be too surprised
    As nothing is used to make it
    And it has no place to go.

  • Wahab Abdul Wahab Abdul (3/20/2016 10:17:00 AM)


    To say honestly what took me to poetry
    The reason is very negative
    And towards literature I didn't have a fair approach
    I have two legs, two hands and a throat and a head
    Like all normal human being
    But the sad fact is that I couldn’t shake my legs
    Like that Michael Jackson and become a famous dancer
    The throat vibrates when I take to singing
    So no chance to become a singer like Samantha Fox or Madonna
    Like Bruce Lee my hands don’t move fast either
    So I will never become a champion fighter
    When I can’t do anything substantial
    I fell on poetry
    This is very natural and was very spontaneous,
    Words come to me like blowing of wind
    And flowing of a stream
    So to say I am a born poet
    And this feeling is very genuine and to refute it, really I have no means.

  • 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.

  • 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

Best Poem of Abdul Wahab

>≫A True Friend

When the burden of life is
too much

as the rain
to the cloud

and you are so tuckered out
that you can't bear

any more
the weight and pressure

your legs are dead
you feel burned out

and out of coldness
you condense and freeze

though you try hard
to conceal

but the wind knows all
and tells

different stories
with hundred photographs

real and genuine
through your

beautiful and bright eyes
only a true friend knows

how to read
and what goes inside your ...

Read the full of >≫A True Friend

Dole Out Dull

You talk to me too much-
From hell and heaven to cricket match.
Still I find you a squib damp dump.
The gray matter remains nimble numb.

Poet to poet, poetry to poetry
You praise and praise.
Fragile domestic docile humble gullible-
No question learn to raise.

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