It was more beard than anything else
In poetry they converged, varied in age
Tajik and Pashto, and also poor me
(Caught in between
Hardship and Taliban)
I got there on the back of a bicycle
Imposed, on me and the chair
I was an honored member
Pear, the best poem I heard
Khayyam’s, the best I read
Her body; Pear’s
Neck, back of her chest
Side-look at her breasts
Lower poet talked of her waist
And sitting on the buttocks
That Pear I wanted to chew
Even under Taliban’s strict rule
Stoning, cutting hands, all brute
Where the stadium was shrude
No soccer; killing men, interlude
That you have gone through the ordeal sends shivers down the reader's spine. First hand account of the blood-hounds gory games. Thanks.
Nassy, I am deeply moved by both your poem and your notes. It took a great deal of courage for you to accept that invitation. And to then so eloquently write about it. My hat goes off to you, sir. An excellent write!
Stoning, cutting hands, all brute Very terrible, Nassy! Thanks for sharing!
This is one enjoyable work, thank you....
Based on actual even that took part in somewhere past in life I hate killing innocents and women what harm they do
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
good write, thanks. I like it.