A Dialogue With The Man Of New Century
O! Modern man
Of the new century,
Resting in my back bone,
Waiting anxious,
For the moment of creation.
I know,
In exultation to become a flower
From the seed,
Your tiny feet are restless;
To touch the terrestrial planet of the Earth,
But you wait a little,
Stay in the very tavern of creation.
On the creasy existence,
Of this old Mother Earth,
The environ of life
Is not yet congenial.
Sense of hearing
Is becoming infertile,
On being lavished
The words of disgrace;
And thousands of un-reflected facts
Of life are perturbed
To encounter truth for themselves.
Though there is a boundless pleasure
In your graceful creation,
From my own blood
And essence of bones,
Yet I wish lest you should step
Into such a home,
Flowers of which that blossom
In you own lawn you do not have
The right to claim your own.
Would you like, your mother
Deprived of medical
And nutritious facilities
During the painful process
Of you birth, at the sill
Of a very expensive hospital,
Collecting in the life blessing lips
All unripe kisses,
Of your share may die panting
Tossing and unattended.
O! God protect us,
Lips of the life imparting hospitals,
Are yet locked and all angles
Employed on security
Of the breathing fellows are on strike,
For the more privileges,
But unaware of felicity of the holiday,
The Angle of Death
Is busy in picking up the yellow flowers,
From the mustard farms,
With his death acquainted hands.
Who should tell him that all over the world,
No one works more than eight hours.
Life is being ground
Amid mill-stones of the overtime.
O! My child, though attraction
Of the Earth is pleasing,
Yet in the infertile yard of the school
Seeding of the new flowers
Is forbidden;
And childhood of most of the children,
Is passing with
Hunger
Illness
Ignorance
Shelterless ness
Starvation
And playing with toys of war.
Your future has been mortgaged,
In the lockers of IMF.
Will you sell water in the buses,
Or polish shoes on the paths,
Instead of resting
In the blossoming spring
Of the lap of your motherhood?
Will you like to be branded like me
Indebted by birth,
For the loan which was never spent on me?
If luckily you are born alive,
From the exterminating womb
Of your mother,
There is the possibility
That police might arrest you
Without warrants;
Or murder you in a fictitious encounter,
And eyes on the spot of occurrence
May shut their lids tight,
At last who will wish to eat
The steaks of his own tongue.
O! Man of the new century,
The atmosphere is yet replete with
Prejudice and stink of explosives;
The air is not worth-breathing.
In such a season as this is
It is impossible to blossom
The fresh roses of your thoughts.
Calls from the mosques,
With the help of damned speakers,
Are engaged in the war of sounds,
To let the rival down;
And on the cities
The plague of pollution is descending.
Tummy-touching servile tongues,
Are protesting against the dish-antenna;
The matters against war,
Poverty,
Hatred,
Illness,
Ignorance,
And exploitation,
Have not yet been included in priorities.
More than half of the world,
Is self-dependent
In production of children
And the remaining half in explosives;
The compelled decrepit refugees,
Carrying on their heads the packs of homesickness,
Are waiting for their return.
Tarry awhile!
The mother Earth has apologized,
To carry the weight of more human beings.
Future of the earth
Is not yet secure
In the hands of human beings,
For equal right of all inhabitants
On sources of the universe,
Has not been yet recognized.
On sudden breakage
Of one side of the scale of strength,
The lender of the world,
Is selling with half scales
To the beggar-like customers,
Commodity of the New World Order,
On the price of self offered terms;
And in consequence of fear and rumble
Of nuclear explosions,
The Earth went through an abortion;
And now in the womb of infertile soil,
Only radiation breathes.
Listen!
The future of man on the Earth
Is yet uncertain, and he did not learn
How to prefer life to death;
The armies not yet prepared to surrender
Their preeminence,
And the mother of the martyred
Residing in the neighbourhood
Is not willing to concede “wars are not sacred”.
Man is not yet prepared
To give priority the problems of war,
And survival of the Earth in the agendas.
Armies are yet busy day and night
In preparation of waging such a war
As perchance there will be no one to determine,
The Conqueror or the conquered,
Once its bugle is sounded.
The wish for peace is smouldering,
Amid the half burnt cigarettes in the ashtray,
Lying on the table of the dialogue.
My babe!
Impede your impatient soul traveling to the earth,
Overpowered by a thrill of creation;
Lest in the journey between the backbone,
And shelter of your mother’s womb,
Your desire to materialize should turn into nothing;
And you could demand from no one
Compensation of your blood.
Stay!
First we should decide that peace,
Food,
Education,
Freedom,
Happiness,
And on the hygienic environment,
Either all have equal right or no one.
Stay friend!
I to get a guarantee of life
And survival of the earth have submitted,
An entreaty across the seas,
And your being or not being,
Is conditional with acceptance
Or rejection of the appeal.
Though your impatience to emerge,
Is justified yet I can not greet you abasing
On the heap of ammunition;
I do not like that after descending
Your chariot on the Earth
You could not avail yourself,
The chance to cut,
The cake of the first birthday.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Will The Earth Look When Lifeless?
We from inward
Have negated violence,
And acknowledged,
From the core of heart,
The glory of creation;
And in a magnificent gathering,
We have pledged,
To render responsibility,
For the survival of life
And the earth;
But to obtain peaceful environment
We have transformed,
Nuclear weapons into home-industry;
For we think that preparations
Of wars only bear peace.
Alla din of Death
Having the magical lamp in hands,
Is fluttering over our heads;
And the earth is listening
To the sound of time creeping in us.
Life has made up her mind
To migrate from the earth.
How will the Earth look when lifeless?
Who will be here to witness after all?
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Born Again
where the footsteps of one culture tread
the righteous still sing
as we march to the tune of "humanity's" hymn
a restless night awaits the dawn of a silent spring
our mythos and this way of life
have led us astray - disconnected
we've stepped outside the circle and into the reign
for they so loathe the world
children search for heavenly bliss
and abandon this sacred earth
damnation - the chance I am willing to take
for life everlasting I return to the womb
day by day - from birth
page by page - the script we enact
to an unsound story of conquest and glory
by a culture about to collapse
blood flows from the fountains
of bondage and brutality
(this captive earth to flood)
as one whom the mother caresseth
so will I comfort you
through every waking moment
the pleading whispers of mother culture
are spoken softly in my ears
begging me to turn my back
instead I shun her lies
with the truth of a newfound worldview
I'm deaf to salvation's cry
for they so loathe the world
children search for heavenly bliss
and abandon this sacred earth
damnation - the chance I am willing to take
for life everlasting I return to the womb
my blood for her blood, my breath for her breath
back into her arms, to the place we belong
mother culture reborn and I again to the earth
to break the chains, to give freedom a name
and put the life back in living
song performed by by Undying
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children’s Day 2011
The bud that tried to form some way
Was disallowed from doing so;
The bud that sprung out fine one day
Couldn’t blossom like how others do.
The buds that bloomed into flowers
Got plucked or crushed before they grew;
The flowers that found the rain showers
Got withered unseeded by dew!
When children are future adults on earth,
Why parents choose to play God while in womb?
And kill them mercilessly before birth,
Converting their first home into a tomb!
When love of God has formed them healthy, hale,
Should mom or dad decide their destiny?
And if to Maker unborn tell their tale,
God’s rage will rise supporting the tiny!
Let parents love their kids before their birth;
Let unborn see world’s grandeur that’s God-made;
Let human beings be humane on earth;
Let love of life be prime and hatred fade!
Allow all children to be born and fed;
Give them the love and tender care they need;
Bestow the warmth and human touch in bed;
Let children grow like mammoth trees from seed!
On Children’s Day, let love enter young hearts;
Let children not be unwanted on earth;
Let children not be used as man’s spare-parts;
Let every nation feel proud by their birth!
poem by John Celes
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On The First Anniversary Of Nuclear Explosions
The pitcher of the Earth
Has got emptied
The water-bags of eyes
Of the damsels going to the fountains
Have dried;
Un-kissed kisses of the damsel of Thur
From the yellow branch of lips
Shed one by one.
The farms
Where my ploughmen seeded Life
Now Death is getting its roots deeper.
On the chest of the Earth
The crops of sores wave,
And half dead colonies: villages and towns
Are sitting on the brims of grave,
Hanging the feet down,
Gilding eyes with a hope of last ablutions.
Those who fight on the front thirst
Their weak eyes gaze at the supply of rain;
In the season of migration,
Greenery and the birds,
Have surpassed the human beings.
The bowls of dried fountains
Far and near are lying turned up;
And on the paths leading to the founts,
The jingles of anklets and bangles
Are lying dead, un-graved, without coffins.
The giggles of children
Left away one by one in the chase of water,
And a thirsty-river
On the paper of sand
Is composing an elegy of Water.
On the forehead of the Earth,
Thirst is inscribed for the descending generations,
Ah! The water of our eyes has dried.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Song On Resurgence Of The Earth
War
Begins with the tears,
And peace with smiles.
Peace
Is an enslaved damsel that the warriors:
The guardians of peace captured
And imprisoned her
Amid the walls by force.
What type of life this is,
That the thought of death
Never releases us even for a moment;
Upon my colonies falls
Depression from the sky,
And in dread,
The breasts of mothers have dried.
In my infertile land
Peace does not grow;
It is a an indoor plant
Of the land of the descending Sun
Which is exported to favourite countries
And so is earned the foreign exchange.
The deprived people,
Like us can not afford peace;
For us life is harder than the war,
But life in the clutches of death,
Is demanding its own right.
Come!
Let us compose a new song,
On resurgence of the Earth.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Fragrance of Mother Earth
The Sun has risen in the east.
Fragrance of Mother Earth
will spread all over the world.
The fragrance of Mother Earth,
The perseverance of Mother Earth,
The consciousness of Mother Earth
and the thoughts of the land of arts,
all these will spread all over the world.
Food maintains the figure.
Oil causes smoothness.
In the lap of Mother,
abundant are the gems and precious jewels.
Dame Nature has bestowed air and water for all.
With the efforts of the human being
various kinds of crops are yielded.
Excellently charming are the rivers,
sylvan sites and brooks.
Fragrance of Mother Earth
will spread all over the world.
Summer, Rain and Winter
are the empirical experiences of this life.
We, the companions in joys and sorrows,
shall sing together the lilt of delight.
Dhol, Niś ā n and Ghumurā –
These enchanting musical instruments
encouragingly discard all dizziness.
The black-bee in the form of mind
rejoices humming over the flower
of colourful sentiments.
So marvellous and beautiful
is the creation of the Creator.
Fragrance of Mother Earth
will spread all over the world.
O Brothers and Sisters!
Wake up. With concentrative mind,
We’ll make our life blessed
by performing good deeds for the society.
Great strength is in the body of the youth.
We’ll keep the glory established
by accomplishing activities
in the path of righteousness
for the well-being of the country.
Salutations at the feet of our Mother India.
Our humble prayer at the feet
of the Mother Goddess Mā ņ ikeś warī.
Fragrance of Mother Earth will spread all over the world.
Our humble prayer at the feet of our Mother.
The thoughts of the land of arts will spread unfurled.
Fragrance of Mother Earth will spread all over the world.
poem by Harekrishna Meher
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From Behind The Moon
On seeing
From behind the moon,
The lines drawn
On face of the earth,
Are invisible.
Boundaries,
Are the leaching eruptions
On belly of the Earth.
My eyesight goes through
A dismal pain,
On seeing wretched activities
In the world.
I am fortunate
Enough that I am alive,
But astonished how alive I am.
My tomorrow is in my hands,
And there lies,
An obligation of survival
On my shoulders;
I am in a search to find out,
A secure spot
On the surface of the Earth.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Ocean Of Affection Vavroovahana Patra
Mother’s love is an ocean of affection;
Earth is beautiful with mother’s creation.
Her love attracts sons and daughters;
In her lap they are sweet lovely creatures.
Earth smiles with mother’s dedication;
Mothers are innocent lovely women of creation.
Children derive peace serving mother;
They are Deities in the lap of creator.
Mother’s cosy face attracts day and night;
She is a Ganga of Purity and Delight.
Is a boo9k of inspiration;
Poet’s are renowned with mother’s benediction.
Mother’s affection Eternal on Earth;
She is an Ocean of Love and Mirth.
Is the incarnation of Tranquility;
Is a River of Delight.
Mother inspires to be great on Earth;
Serving the Mother glorious becomes human birth.
She toils hard for sons and daughters;
They are sweet lovely society’s creator.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Born On Earth
How many have you given birth,
Mother earth, Mother earth?
Bore them here to drink your rain,
bore them here to feel your pain?
You cannot count them though you try,
not until you feel them die.
One by one they came to you
and one by one they left your view.
They plowed your fields and reaped your seed
and ate of you to fill their need.
Some were kind and pure of heart,
some foolhardy from the start.
How many came and breathed your air
and offered thanks and gave you prayer?
Did you keep a record of each brave soul
or just use yourself to cover the hole
that waits and observes their destiny
and accepts their bodies with sympathy?
How many more will you give birth
to stake their claim upon your earth?
Too many, too many I'm afraid
and for most a terrible price will be paid.
How many have you given birth
Mother earth, Mother earth?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Don’t Give Up in Protecting the Mother Earth
Don’t Give Up in Protecting the Mother Earth
My son… Look at how you managed
To protect the Mother Earth in the past
When you were younger
You stood up
With your head up
Against all the odds
You managed to protect the Mother Earth then
When many people were ignorant of
The Mother Earth’s feelings
So why are you afraid now
This time
The public opinion is in your side
So why are you loosing faith
Mother Earth needs your protection and care
Don’t give up
Take the first step
And
Everything else will follow
So my son
Don’t give up in protecting the Mother Earth
poem by Frederick Kambemba Yamusangie
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Thank Mother Earth Each Day
If you have a pain that won't go away
at least stand on Mother Earth during the day.
You also need the sunlight of Father Sun
he uplifts the spirit of everyone.
Mother Earth is more in sync then you know
visualize be rooting to her in a storm.
Your brain and her have same hertz frequency
which is very healing.
Your root chakra is a deep red
think of Mother Earth when you lay in bed.
See Mother Earth as your life line
your first chakra is associated with your spine.
So ground yourself everyday—
thank Mother Earth for
having things come your way.
poem by Christina Sunrise
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An Elegy Of The Earth
I before my death,
Have composed,
An elegy of the Earth,
Which (after war)
Roodali of the Air will sing,
Weeping and wailing,
Sitting amid the burnt
Decomposed bodies.
The Decree of Death
Has been written,
On the pale forehead of the Earth;
Only time is to be fixed.
We are neither afraid of death,
Nor covetous for life,
We only wish to relish in full,
Our natural life before the final ruin,
And it is our right too.
If war is indispensable,
We shall fight it only for our existence,
For our dreams are not
The fuel for the wars being fought on rent.
‘Roodali’ is a professional woman whom the elite class of the Sikhs hires to lament on the death of someone.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Tonight I Sleep With Mother Earth
Seventy more years must pass,
To plus these ones gone past,
My eyelids, before they may close
Before Mother Earth opens up her core
To take my body in once more,
Before I sleep with Mother Earth.
Before I sleep with Mother Earth,
My castles strewn across the sky
Shall come down to the earth,
And grow up to scrape the sky.
Before I sleep with Mother Earth,
Life shall answer all questions posed,
I shall plaster all precious stones
Around my name, in umeasured fold.
Before I sleep with Mother Earth.
I shall grow tall and strong like a giant,
I shall be elephated from ant to elephant.
Before I sleep with Mother Earth,
All ears that hear must hear,
And those that can't must read,
And those that can't must feed,
Ingest by all means, the words that I speak.
Before I sleep with Mother Earth,
I must sleep with Success,
From that whore, I shall receive suck-sex
A crowned head, I'll not settle for any less.
I shall drink from the brooks of plenty,
I shall autograph the books of many.
Before I sleep with Mother Earth,
All my toils shall be brought to boil,
My labour shall bring forth fruit,
Truth and Life shall birth through me, Poetry
All my impregnations shall get expression,
I shall pour out my soul upon all flesh,
And still erect, I shall come, into Mother Earth.
Then I shall say:
'Seventy more years have gone past,
Many more tears have flushed past,
My eyelids, and now they may close,
As Mother Earth opens up her core,
For the time has come, as I said afore,
Tonight I sleep wiith Mother Earth.'
poem by Joba Akinola
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This World Is Magic
Dreams can make you fly
This world is magic
Rainbows in the sky
This world is magic to me
Dreams can make you fly
This world is magic
We need peace on earth
The second birth of paradise
This world is magic
This world is magic to me
This world is magic
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
We need peace on Earth
The second birth of paradise
This world is what we share
The nature and the air
Life could be paradise
Eternal peace is what we need
To live in harmony
For human history
Pray for a better world
When you close your eyes again
Planet Earth, that's the name of my place
I'm born in this world, in the entire space
Planet earth, is my home, is my face
Follow your trace embrace this human race
In case, there's a new decade in human history
I'm talking about respect this is my destiny
Feel free, and stop running away
From the doubt in your mind,- never fade to grey
Planet Earth, gentle and blue
Then cold as a rock, or ice without a hue
Planet earth, made out of dust
A big ball of metal, condemn to rust
Pray, let your soul be free
Find out how to heal a bleeding wound don't stand around
Life could be paradise, peace on earth is what I found
All around in a magic world from the air to the ground
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Inner-self Is Dead Since Long
The bargain of peace,
Does not award commission;
All favour death,
But I am compelled to beg,
Donations of life,
From the weapons.
Despite we went through
Half a century of trials,
We could not learn from our environ.
The life is changing its costume,
The destiny has proclaimed
That the cockroaches will govern the earth.
My inner-self is dead since long,
War will dispose my corpse,
I am the song whom my contemporaries
Are scared to compose.
The training areas touch our abodes,
We generation to generation
Are the guardians of white elephants.
Someone should pick,
A chew of love from my heart,
To dropp it into hearts of the rulers.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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My Head Bows Before The Quill
In the dale of death,
I have taken the risk of favouring life,
I have been entrusted an obligation
To contemplate,
Amid those who have apathy against thinking;
It is just like to enkindle fire
With stones in the snow fall.
The leading heads are betrothed
To blemish countenance of the Earth,
And my head
Only bows before the quill.
I resting my feet on a heap of explosives
Have raised my hands for prayers,
The birds,
With hopeful eyes are looking at
The extended nest of my hands.
Written by Dr. Jawaz Jaffri translated by Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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I Am Faithful To The Earth
Listen!
There grows a magic,
In the farms of my eyes,
Of curiosity of the alien directions.
There descends,
The food on my ears of unheard sounds,
And my feet have to stamp their prints
On the un-ravished dust
Of some un-reflected planet.
My nose is alive with an urge
To inhale fragrance of some alien soil,
And tongue is fasting with a yearn
To taste the dithering juicy fruit
Of shadowy trees rooted in the fertile soil
Of some unexplored planet.
From the Earth to space, I have to lay
A network of the radiant routes.
I have come to you after dowelling
My defiant horse of brilliance;
And placing my feet in its poppers
To ride on its saddled back is my dream;
I know that often dreams grow
On the tassels of impossibilities.
I have to scatter the seed of life,
In the celestial regions of the universe,
Sitting on the horse of brilliance,
For life is unaided and in the claws of death.
I am faithful to the Earth
O! My beloved speak,
“Would you accompany me? ”
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Mother Kisses.....
the world will be wonderful in you
with every day’s stay; you have open my
silent mood, after a life time of waiting in
your womb dear mother....
my flesh have born again, by just a
touch of your tender and smooth skin, and
i feel something that rejuvenate my last
lips i offer; to secure as you stay my past,
oh! stay my beloved beginning of my flesh
lovely mother......
open my young heart, for i will give you all
my love, to any distances surprise your joy
i remain, my beautiful mother.....
i play round, from role of tide, and as far
i’ll stay i always will turn too, give me the
chance for a moment to be with you, lasting i
pray that made me to stay in the womb, for
another time with you again and someday
i belong to thee, beloved mother.....
your kisses have say that my life is willing to
come home my darling mother.......
poem by Antonio Liao
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On Doing Little
I stood all alone
On the round rock,
And beheld below
Into the valley,
The smouldering substance,
Smoke rose,
Dissipated into spheres,
Explosives
Blackened the ground,
And I smelt the stench
Of burning blood.
Then I saw descending,
A queue of angels,
From heights
Of the yonder mountain;
They were white, black and brown,
They were toddling down
To the singed valley,
And in hands they bore
Beacons of dreams.
They gathered around
One by one,
Sat jumbled holding
Their tiny bare feet,
All pricked, perforated
With the points of thorns;
And had a similar complaint
On the lips.
“You scattered
The seed of bushes,
On the path
Whereupon the children
Of Adam
Would have to pass,
You multiplied miseries,
You snatched
Richness, and fertility
Of the mother Earth,
You polluted
Rivers and rills,
You eroded
Mounts and hills,
Faults were yours
But we suffer though the penalty.”
I listened to them
Drooping my head,
And felt guilty
To my own conscience,
On scattering seed
Of thorny bushes,
Instead of planting
The cuttings of roses,
I was really ashamed
On doing little
For the angles:
The descending generations.
Yes! I confess,
I made the world
A store of weapons;
Its plains, the battlefields.
Oh! Inhabitants of the Earth,
It is time to revamp
Our mode of actions;
Let us remove
The fear of extinction,
By disposing of instruments,
Of conflicts, fights and wars,
Conventional, chemical and nuclear.
Let us eliminate,
The stench of explosives
By perfuming the world
With sweet fragrant roses.
Let us sing
A song of harmony:
Peace for the East, peace for the West,
Peace for the North, peace for the South,
And peace, peace for both of the anti-poles.
Let us hand over the world
To our children
Beautified and worth-living,
Let us be the residents,
Being makers and producers,
Architects and designers,
And manufacturers of commodities
Of love, of faith, of tolerance,
And not being the destroyers:
Killers and slayers.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Be Very Patient
Be very patient,
The potter's clay;
Be very wise,
The writer's pen;
Be very useful,
Of the muse of life with a living hope;
Let your yes be yes and your no be no.
Life is like the patience of Iyyob,
So abstain from fleshly lust;
Like the days of our visitations on this earth.
Sarah obeyed Abraham,
Like the sea and the seashore;
So established are the two witnesses.
Oh womb, womb, womb!
Oh bomb, bomb, bpomb! !
Oh tomb, tomb, tomb! ! !
Be very patient in this life.
Womb. bomb, tomb;
The womb is opened.
Womb, bomb, tomb;
The earth is defiled.
Womb, bomb, tomb;
The time of trouble on this earth with our muses.
Our bombs will shake the heavens,
And our sins will led us to our tombs;
As it is written in the Book Of Life like,
A child born today from the womb.
We came out of the womb and,
Many of us will be killed by the bombs! !
Which will finally send us into the tombs.
Read about the facts,
Learn about the truth,
Our days of darkness from the womb!
We came out of the womb and,
Are destroying the world with our bombs;
Soon, we will be buried in the tombs!
Womb, bomb, tomb;
Be very patient on this earth without hatred.
Lets be each others keeper,
Lets learn for the truth of all things;
Our days on this earth is still very short.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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