Mohammad Muzzammil Poems

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


Once while sleeping I saw a dream,
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Love is pretty, sweet and kind,
Like a beautiful hillside morn,
Blowing breeze and fragrance bind,
Then it is in one's heart born.
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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,
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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.
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Ego, a mask we wear,
To hide our doubts and fear,
A shield we put up high,
To protect ourselves from prying eyes.
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Tears are hidden behind smile,

Among the thorns a laughing rose,
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Those who are muslims just for name,
They really Islam defame,
No future they have nor any aim,
Like a candle without flame.
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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.
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With words we weave a tapestry,
A world of beauty, bright and free.
Through rhyme and rhythm, meter too,
We bring our dreams to life anew.
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Through realms of politics, a specter looms,
New propaganda, fueled by communal fumes.
With crafty words, they sow seeds of disdain,
Dividing people, igniting a fiery chain.
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