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Palm Fibre
May the hands of Abu Lahab be ruined
He will lose all whatever he gained
He will be in the flaming fire,
So, his wife the fuel carrier,
Around her neck a twisted cord of palm fibre.
poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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H's Soul
I wonder what happened to Hitler's Soul
As children cursed it around the world
At breakfast tables, under hidden floors
And at the oven doors
Lovers cursed it in their ecstasy throes
Soldiers cursed it, spitting on their boots
Marching in life and death parades
As their mothers cursed him too
Begging his Soul to be damned in Hell
Consigned with Generals that cursed it well
Where did it go, that very special Soul
Was there a space, a prison cell
Padded by the silence of his screams
That echo in our darkest dreams?
poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Abu Lahab (Chapter 111, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
Both hands of Abu Lahab to be perished and so shall he
His wealth and earnings will not be able to benefit him, you see
He will soon burn in blazing Hell
With his wife the bearer of fuel
Around whose neck a noose of twisted bark of date tree.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Cursed
I have been cursed.
From the very early start.
Rape and abuse.
Hurt and pain.
Is all I've ever known.
I have been left cursed.
By the seedy thing you did.
Left with flashbacks.
Left with hell.
Unable to trust.
Unable to forget
Cant move on
I am cursed by you.
By what you did to me
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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John Ballard
In the lust of my strength
I cursed God, but he paid no attention to me:
I might as well have cursed the stars.
In my last sickness I was in agony, but I was resolute
And I cursed God for my suffering;
Still He paid no attention to me;
He left me alone, as He had always done.
I might as well have cursed the Presbyterian steeple.
Then, as I grew weaker, a terror came over me:
Perhaps I had alienated God by cursing him.
One day Lydia Humphrey brought me a bouquet
And it occurred to me to try to make friends with God,
So I tried to make friends with Him;
But I might as well have tried to make friends with the bouquet.
Now I was very close to the secret,
For I really could make friends with the bouquet
By holding close to me the love in me for the bouquet
And so I was creeping upon the secret, but --
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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You love what you do, you are cursed with it, and then you get known for being cursed with it.
quote by Armand Assante
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cursed
I know I will never find love and happiness.
I know I meant for a life of sad loneliness.
I am broken and torn time and time again.
I am turning black from deep within.
I am hanging on by a single thread.
I know that I am better off dead.
Every one hates me and thinks i'm weird.
I will never belong here.
I can't take the pain away.
I try to with this silver blade.
Yet here you come to make it worse.
Making it known that I am cursed.
Cursed to a life of dread.
Cursed to be found dead.
If you read this it might be the last thing you read.
For I feel this is the end for me.
poem by Jean Pullman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Upon The Barren Fig-Tree In God's Vineyard
What, barren here! in this so good a soil?
The sight of this doth make God's heart recoil
From giving thee his blessing; barren tree,
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
Art thou not planted by the water-side?
Know'st not thy Lord by fruit is glorified?
The sentence is, Cut down the barren tree:
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be.
Hast thou been digg'd about and dunged too,
Will neither patience nor yet dressing do?
The executioner is come, O tree,
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
He that about thy roots takes pains to dig,
Would, if on thee were found but one good fig,
Preserve thee from the axe: but, barren tree,
Bear fruit, or else thy end will cursed be!
The utmost end of patience is at hand,
'Tis much if thou much longer here doth stand.
O cumber-ground, thou art a barren tree.
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
Thy standing nor they name will help at all;
When fruitful trees are spared, thou must fall.
The axe is laid unto thy roots, O tree!
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be.
poem by John Bunyan
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I Know What You Know
I know what you know
I am not inferior to you.
Do not look down on me
We are all homosapiens.
Divinely created as God's image
God rates us all equally.
I have sights like you
I walk like you
I think like you.
I may be black,
I may be white,
I may be coloured,
I may even be red
I am God's creation
My senses are the same like
Differences in skin pigmention
Does not make me inferior
We are the same
So, deal with me on what I know
So, deal with jewels inside me
Relate with me on my knowledge
Deal with me according to my capacity
I will reciprocate the same
We are bound to respect each other
I am not cursed
My generation is not cursed
My land is not cursed
I am endowed like you
My ancestors land is blessed
I know what you know
I am not inferior to you
poem by Babatunde Aremu
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Premature Outbursts Later To Be Cursed
On automatic are dramatics,
With performances begun.
Those combat addicts,
Choose to pick their fights...
To declare what they have won.
Only,
To find themselves birthing...
Premature outbursts,
Later...
To be cursed!
On automatic are dramatics,
With performances begun.
Those combat addicts,
Choose to pick their fights...
To declare what they have won.
Only,
To find themselves birthing...
Premature outbursts,
Later...
To be cursed!
Only,
To find themselves birthing...
Activities done,
That can't...
Be reversed!
Premature outbursts,
Are later to be cursed.
Premature outbursts,
Are later to be cursed.
Premature outbursts,
Are later to be cursed.
Premature outbursts,
Are later to be cursed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Blessed To Be Cursed
I awaken early,
With thoughts that seem...
Already out of date.
Already out of time.
Already...
I feel I am too late.
Bombarded I am,
With images that feed.
And some I feel,
I am not yet ready to taste.
Am I cursed or blessed?
At times I feel in between.
And aging hasn't made this attraction,
Any easier for me...
It seems.
Am I cursed or blessed?
OR blessed to be cursed?
Is it possible to enjoy something,
And not quench that thirst?
I awaken early,
With thoughts that seem...
Already out of date.
Already out of time.
Already...
I feel I am too late.
Bombarded I am,
With images that feed.
And some I feel,
I am not yet ready to taste...
Although I enjoy,
Achieving those impossible dreams.
Am I cursed or blessed?
OR blessed to be cursed?
Is it possible to enjoy something,
And not quench that thirst?
And I think to myself...
'What am I getting out of this?
How am I benefitting,
When I am the last to think of myself first! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hail Africa
Hail Africa,
Full of race,
The lords be with you,
You are cursed among nations,
And black flesh, the fruit of your soil, is cursed.
Holy Africa,
Mother of humans,
Cry for us, killers,
Now, and at the hour
Of your death,
Amen!
poem by Bridget Pearson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Begged God for My Life
I cursed the birds
Their droppings soiled my clothes
I cursed the animals
Their droppings soiled my feet
While walking on the beach
I cursed the insects
For eating flowers in my garden
I took a gun
Killed the birds and the animals
Sprayed deadly poison
On the the insects
I was feeling happy
As if I had conquered the world
I heard god’s voice
What should I do with you my son?
You soiled my world
By killing my
Birds, insects and animals
For your greed and lust
I begged god for my life
Promised him to
Treat man, animals alike
Preserve his world
With all my might
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Curse
I am cursed and I know it,
Every time when you look in my eyes you can see how sad I am,
I need to find myself,
There are curses forces between us,
My hands are full of blood that no one can’t see,
Seeing you makes wanna choke,
Seeing you makes me sick,
You keep on slipping away,
The further you slip the further I don’t remember you,
I do declare war on you,
You made me realize how worthless you are to me,
What can I do make you see how much I despite you with every beat of my heart,
You cursed me the day I ever met you,
I curse you the next girl kisses breaks your heart as you did mine.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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My Curse
Open now are my eyes,
Open now possibly for the first time,
For now i see i am cursed,
Cursed by my eternal lust,
My eternal lust for that which
i cannot possibly hope to attain,
For this is my eternal pain.
poem by Paul McAnaney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cross
My old man's a white old man
And my old mother's black.
If ever I cursed my white old man
I take my curses back.
If ever I cursed my black old mother
And wished she were in hell,
I'm sorry for that evil wish
And now I wish her well
My old man died in a fine big house.
My ma died in a shack.
I wonder were I'm going to die,
Being neither white nor black?
poem by Langston Hughes
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Death Took You
We were happy, we were free
Two sole creatures, you and me.
But it didn't last all that long,
Why was it not meant to be?
You had an accident,
It was my fault.
Because I didn't run fast enough
to shout 'Stop! '.
I cursed and I cried.
It's not what i usually do.
But without my permission,
Death took you.
It was wrong,
Or so I think.
I went to the funeral,
I did my bit.
Your favorite flowers were there.
I said a prayer, I said it softly.
I wish you heard,
It was not your fault, It was mine wholly.
I cursed and I cried.
It's not what i usually do.
But without my permission,
Death took you.
poem by Anushna Satapathy
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Mystery To Unfold!
First the world betrayed
Then dejected by my own heart
The game of sorrows fate played
Torn my heart and soul apart!
North mark, the eternal guide
Has always been the evidence
Of a cursed glide
A cursed and joyless life.
Says the world, God owns our luck
He has all our fate and life in command.
But thinks my mind, hones He only
His motive of doing best for us.
But poor human psyche, heart and mind
I weep and howl over what I find!
poem by Alok Mishra
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A Square Poem
Reading this poem vertically (the first word of each line, then the second word of each line and so on) yields the same poem as resding it in the normal way.
I often wondered when I cursed,
Often feared where I would be—
Wondered where she'd yield her love,
When I yield, so will she.
I would her will be pitied!
Cursed be love! She pitied me ...
poem by Lewis Carroll
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Mary
YES, we were happy once, and care
My jocund heart could ne'er surprise;
My treasures were, her golden hair,
Her ruby lips, her brilliant eyes.
My treasures were--alas! depart
Ye visions of what used to be!
Cursed be the heart--the cruel heart--
That stole my Mary's love from me.
Dark are my joyless days--and thou--
Dost thou too dream, and dreaming weep?
Or, careless of thy broken vow,
Unholy revels dost thou keep?
No, Mary, no,--we loved too well,
Such deep oblivion cannot be;
Cursed be the lips, where guile could dwell,
To lure thy love away from me!
It cannot be!--ah! haply, while
With wild reproach I greet thy name,
Thy ruby lip hath ceased to smile--
Thy happy head is bowed with shame!
Haply, with haggard want opprest,
Thou weepest where no eye may see;
Cursed be the spoiler's cruel breast--
But, oh! my Mary--heaven shield thee!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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