Mohammad Muzzammil

Mohammad Muzzammil Poems

This is a dramatically poem on the Gujrat riot...>

Once while sleeping I saw a dream,

Love is pretty, sweet and kind,
Like a beautiful hillside morn,
Blowing breeze and fragrance bind,
Then it is in one's heart born.

On the summit the sun was shining,
And whosoever dared to get outside,
The sun burnt one and fainted by scorching,
And his impact stretched to the world wide,

Oh, how sever the heart's pain,
In the love, did what I gain,
Writhing my heart and eyes rain,
I forget her, but in my dreams remain.


Tears are hidden behind smile,

Among the thorns a laughing rose,

Those who are muslims just for name,
They really Islam defame,
No future they have nor any aim,
Like a candle without flame.

From the west the fast winds blow,
By force and with lovely sound,
By and by my emotions grow,
And freshness is there me around.

The wind blows from the west,
And takes the clouds strongly away,
And causes in the sky unrest,
Kites are soaring where astray,

At first I opened my eyes and found,
A smiling, attractive and beautiful face,
Seeing her I paused my crying sound,
And began to flow on love's surface.


When we've come from one parents,
Why are we seperated in the world,
Hindu, Muslim, Sikh and Christian,
But, we're human in one word.


Praise to Thee, O Creator of universe!
Thou the Master of both worlds,
Thou bestowed us tongue to converse,
But, to count Thy blessings I'm short by words.

The sun set and it was being dark,
A pitch dark night had fallen,
No light was there nor any spark,
A star shone at all of sudden,

A pretty girl entices all,
Traps them in her beauty,
In no time in love they fall,
Forgetting their way and duty.

Alas! I lost my comfort and now my existence,
Cause I saw a flower full of fragrance,
Was pretty but surrounded by thorn fence,
And I wanted to get it breaking any hindrance.

The sun is rising with its beams,
Pale light is spreading everywhere,
Giving us invitation as it seems,
Or a king bestowing gold here and there,
The darkness's left the battle cause morn is getting here.

The cycle of time never stops,
That has never forgiven anyone,
Moves fast, slow and sometimes hops,
None can claim from it to be won,

Before Marriage

A free life sportive like a fawn,
Or a flying bird in the limitless sky,

I was in the forest one day,
With my friends and marrows,
All of us were very gay,
We were happy and out of sorrows.

Mom! Stars which lying on the sky,
Twinkling they are as they be shy,
Stare they sportive at me, it seems,

The sun calls back of its rays,
And ready to go far behind,
Birds and cattle are on their ways,
To reach their home before day truns blind.

Mohammad Muzzammil Biography

Mohammad Muzzammil Shah resides at Qazipura-south in Bahraich. He thinks himself a lifelong student. He belongs to a well to do family. He father runs a shop of cloth near Chowk bazaar. They are six brothers and five sisters, and he at fifth number in brothers. He was not a good student until he reached in High School. His brother, Mohammad Talha helped him alto financially in tuitions' fee. He didn't know English well or he couldn't think that he would compose poems in English. Mohammad Akmal Nazir, the master of language taught him English and made him able to read, write and speak English. Before this, he would write his poems in Urdu, but there was no attraction due to lack of love fragrance. So, I decided to love someone to observe its matters so that his poems are rich in expression. He loved a girl that was his coaching mate. He was glad beyond proper limits when he proposed her, but received no response whether in affirmation or negation. He was lingering on and also thought that he had done something wrong proposing her. May be she was pious and didn't like these things, but it was clear soon. He came to know that she had many boy friends and his heart tossed to break when she expressed her love with boy of his own batch. One day she was passing with friends by me, his heart spoke out: Cheater, cheater, these are passers, Jaunty face but black heart, Smiling face but true love apart, Like a bad book but good covers. And since then he began to write in English. He wrote so many poems that not only contains love matter but also deal with Nature. He visited Mumbai in 2008 completing my graduation in art stream. He loved to visit seashores. Once emotions aroused and he composed his one of the best poems “Bandstand Beach”. He stayed there with his brother. But, after 40 days staying there he came back because he failed to get a job there. After returning from Mumbai, he joined Standard Crescent School and began his career as an English teacher. He left this school after two years for the betterment, and joined Galaxy English School. His poems were published in an anthology “In Praise, In Words, In Ink”. After that his first poetry book “On the Heat of Emotion” was published Canada. He organized a poets’ group and recently published the first anthology “Wordsmiths’ In Their Verses”. This book contains the works of global poets. He is now Vice-Principal in Galaxy English School, Bahraich. To contact him, send him on you can find me on facebook- Links of his books

The Best Poem Of Mohammad Muzzammil

A Child's Dream (On Gujrat Riot)

This is a dramatically poem on the Gujrat riot...>

Once while sleeping I saw a dream,
In a beautiful ground was playing,
That was lying near a lovely stream,
A pretty smile was the sun displaying,
Grass was tickling when we'd run,
And dew disappeared as shone the sun.

In the game, so fast I ran,
And found myself far away,
Saw back but no friend I sought,
But my eyes met an old mourning man,
May be, he forgot his own way,
I reached him curiously in this thought.

When he turned his lovely face,
I recognized, Ah! Our National Father,
Whose tender heart was full of grace,
'Why thy eyes wet? O my father!
Practising on thy doctrines, now India is free,
But, ye weeping, O ye must be glee.'

Wiping his tears he broke his ice,
'Why to be happy and on what to be gay? '
He spoke in his woeful voice,
They again and again me slay,
My home affected by violent flood,
And my yard is full of human blood.'

'I'm unable to imagine, O what we say?
How thou be slain again and again,
While from thy home thou far away,
And on thy attire, how is this stain?
I've seen thee cheerful in my books,
But, why sorrowful thy face looks?

'Open thy mind and understand me, O child!
Where peace resides the place I attain,
And thou know well that I've been mild,
Thy white clothing leaders made on me stain,
Ah! Gujrat, My Gujrat is full of human blood,
Wild Modi has brought a violent flood.'

In his tearful eyes I saw horrible sights,
Men be killed, burnt, cleft and badly drawn,
Surrounding one be ripped if one who fights,
Tearing womb, infants are wildly drawn,
Infants're cleft before their mothers' eyes,
With a painful cry I closed my eyes.

Mohammad Muzzammil Comments

Amy Marie 13 December 2010

Your poems are pretty well written :)

3 0 Reply
Sylvia Frances Chan 12 December 2021

Congratulations on the choice of Poem HUnter and Team that you are chosen as The Poet Of The Day. I am very happy for you, dear poet!

0 0 Reply
SAHRE ALAM ansari 12 February 2018

Hii Hii

0 0 Reply
Ata Ata 13 March 2013

Your poetry often tends to underline some important society 's issues. You like to send some important messages through your poems to your readers.Your words are well crafted.I wish your poetry could enchant many readers.Good luck!

6 0 Reply
Wasim Akram 17 August 2012

Nice poems all poems r heart touching...congrate muzammil bhai

4 0 Reply
Angela Wybrow 08 June 2011

I love Bandstand Beach and Ode To Teacher. Your use of language is really good.

2 0 Reply

Mohammad Muzzammil Quotes

If all the people do their duty honestly, there will be no corruption

All fingers are not the same, but it has its own importance.

This is what we Indian dream, To make our lovely nation supreme. Our land is of martyrs and sages, That's known for bravery for ages. No one can break its strong unity, Runs smoothly from past to futurity. Variety of faith, language and culture, Put us always in the state of rapture. Flowing rivers and playing fountains, Our glory echoes among the mountains. Forests are the ornaments of our country, That are the centre of our prosperity. With their sacrifice they got India freed, In raising it high now we have to succeed.

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