Another War Across The War
Your long-ranged missiles,
Perforate
The chest of my days,
The injured sunlight has lost
Its gold.
There is another war
Across the war,
And in between ensued
A brief pause,
That U.N.O insists upon
To call it peace;
In fact
It is a break to make
Fresh arrangements,
To launch another war.
Wars get nourishment
From our bodies,
The boundaries
Are the factories of wars;
I shall neither fight
For monarchy,
Nor for democracy,
Even the sacred armies
Have fallen
From the lashes of my eyes.
I shall only favour
For pace,
I am ashamed of those flowers
And birds who are compelled
To become fodder
Of wars of Man:
The crown of creation.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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My Heart Is The Nest Of Dove
The wind,
Coming from the battlefield,
Pours into my ears,
The neighing of the horses.
The collective graves,
Are about o invade my cities;
And the coffin-sellers,
Look to our fresh young bodies
With avaricious eyes.
The Spider of Death is busy,
In weaving cobweb of my casualty.
O! Gravediggers,
Remove scattered hunger
From your courtyards,
For there is hustle and bustle
In the graveyard.
Come!
Let us protest on the roads
Against war;
My Readers be my witness,
I did not tarnish my pen
With the anthems of wars,
My identity,
Are the songs of peace,
My songs are digging the roots of wars,
For my heart is the Nest of Dove.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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In The Clutches Of Death
War
Is a mutiny against life
And civilization.
I am loyal to both
Life and peace,
But forced to live
In the shadow of death.
Those who defeated the armies,
Can not defeat wars.
I am in the clutches death,
And all doors
Of deliverance are slammed.
A few warriors have made hostage
The whole humanity.
“Peace and friendship are incompatible”
Is only war viable?
The army
Is busy is bent upon to slam for us
The door of future.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Next Poem In The Prison
The seed of war grows well,
On the farm of hatred;
I abhor wars,
Though my victory be certain;
I abhor enforced exodus,
And the camps too,
The camps peep out of my eyes,
I am in search of
Absolute peace and liberty,
My search winks at me.
I am with peace,
And my fate is isolation,
I shall write,
The next poem in the prison.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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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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Half Century, Three And Half Wars
Half Century,
Three and half wars.
Our past is our future,
We have not denounced plying
With the mistakes of each other.
My body is the fodder of war,
An in front of my eyes wafts
My decomposed burnt corpse.
I am a song of those tongues
Which have been pulled out of the roots.
My hearing is being eroded
Waiting to listen to the arrival of good tidings.
Armed Forces
Pour into porches of my ears
The lead of Epic,
And Peace,
Has been flinging down exertion,
Into my eyes since centuries.
My Dreams
Deepen roots into my own soil,
In my possession,
I do not have any palace
In Europe.
My dear land that is being enslaved
Is my last abode.
I cultivate my own dreams,
Into the eyes of my own kids.
I urge for the life of peace,
And natural death.
How long we shall neglect our
The most fervent wishes?
At last
We shall have to place out
Our feet from the worn out
Torn shoes.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Smoke Is Rising From The Branch Of Olive
War
Is impending over our heads,
And Alla Din of Death,
Having the lamp in his hands,
Is waiting for a signal.
Smoke is rising
From the branch of olive,
To see the blind,
The useless,
And the heap of broken bodies,
Is the fate of our eyes.
I am seeding the flowers,
Life, freedom, and peace.
“Peace through war” is the game
Of weapon merchants,
The powers at war have brutal relation
With one another.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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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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Science Is Killing Us All
Holding the hem of an old worn out dream,
We have reached a footpath.
In the callous streets
Of the hilarious city
Making the atom bomb
Our covering
Keeping begging bowls in the hands
And arms on the fore-heads
We are dormant all oblivious.
Amid the fodder
And the crop of swaying starvation,
Our tossing children
Sleep every day
On the worn out carpet of patriotism,
Tasting the flowing salt of their eyes
And licking the long-ranged missiles.
Long lurking militant tongues
Are bent to represent the weapon-adorers.
Life
Love
Who is the ambassador of Freedom?
Our skills are consumed,
In always chiseling the weapons,
Yes; Science is killing us all.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Difference Between God and Man
The world,
God created
In full six days,
Man is competent
To destroy it
In six minutes.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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No City Acknowledges Me (A War Poem)
My heart
And it is evident from my forehead,
I am an historian of the ruined world;
I do not have any reader in my fortune,
And no city acknowledges me.
I am food of the same Earth,
My fate is destined
To make me Hiroshima of this century.
Ah! Migration is imperative on my fellow beings.
War!
Encamps on my sands,
And Death is binding anklets
To be my partner in the ballet.
My people have buried Laughter,
In their lips,
Desertedness sniggers at me,
With voiceless giggles.
The eyes of Explosive reflect,
The conspiracy to preserve
Dead bodies of the butterflies.
My weaponless seasons,
Make infertile resistance against wars;
When Fire smacks my calendar.
War is destined to thrust me,
Into such an era which never turns again.
Ah! Each widow of the grave,
Permits to pass through but inside.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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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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An Army Ensnares My Dream
A dream chases me,
I always seed the forests
Of olive in the dream,
So that the inhabitants
May breathe fresh air,
And could live natural length life.
A dream chases me,
And an army ensnares my dream;
Now my dream has begun
Peeping out of my eyes.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Peace And Love For Me Are Forbidden
Peace and love for me
Are forbidden,
I have been entrusted
The national responsibility,
To show my hatred
To the environment,
Which I am rendering
With utmost sincerity and patriotism.
There dwells fear in my eyes
And my feet are prison bound,
I am being kept away
from light and fresh air.
I am an inhabitant of such a city,
As is destined to be ruined.
In my infertile soil
The plant of freedom
Does not deepen its roots.
I am in a condition like at war,
I was born on the saddle of a steed
And I was first fed
With an edge of a sword,
That made my tongue acidic,
I want to sputter it out.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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An Epitaph Of A Collective Grave
Human race,
On soggy lath of its fate,
Writes suicide.
The window of my eye,
Opens to the future.
For the lap of my Earth,
An epitaph of a collective grave
Is being written;
On the head-side of which
A dried lamp is looking to the way
For mustard of its own share.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Last Day Of Life On The Earth
The womb
Of the earth is bleeding,
Perhaps
The last day of life on this
Planet has reached;
The same day, when
The air will begin to simmer;
And the space
To quench its thirst will gulp
The seven seas.
War
Is constantly in our chase,
Let us to save our lives
Should flee to the Mars.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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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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My Asia
My Asia!
You have the fever of 105,
That is why its intensity is roasting the world.
I am looking
The War adorns
Your forehead with galaxies,
The archeologists see
Your hustling bustling cities
With ferocious looks,
And there creep into your streets foot-sounds
Of the grave-diggers.
The Harbingers of Peace
(After war)
For the tenders of your renovation
Are growling at one another.
I have to save your children
And your songs
From being trampled beneath the tanks.
My Asia!
I am an inhabitant of the era of War,
And embarrassed on being a human.
Though I am all alone
And empty-handed,
Yet I am an ambassador
Of Life
Beauty and Freedom.
I have come into the world to ward off
The War pounding at your threshold,
But I am continuously ashamed.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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War and Peace
Wars cannot give a lasting peace;
Wars cause much hatred and ill-will;
Wars are futile and costly too;
Wars break existing peace with ease!
Wars cause deep wounds of hearts and minds
–That can’t be healed except by time;
Wars lead to loss of lives untold
–That cannot be ever regained.
Wars serve to foment more troubles;
Wars make the world more insecure;
Wars shift the balance of powers;
Wars do not solve the world’s problems.
Love only solves great differences;
Love only bonds the earth’s peoples;
Love only brings peace with much ease;
Love is the key to global peace.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 8-29-2008
poem by John Celes
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You Enjoy Yourself Immunity
Rob us of
Whatever you like,
Deprive us of
Whatever you wish,
Slay them
Whom you like to butcher,
For since long
We have mortgaged
Our self-esteem.
Come!
Rag, rip our self-respect,
But just
You do so as I plead,
Leash more
Our bound hands,
With the cords
Of currency notes,
For their rustle
Make us deaf, blind.
Come!
Perforate the chest
Of whom you desire,
We dwell
In the abyss of disgrace,
Where we adore
The stench of burning flesh,
Besides,
Why you should be afraid of,
For you enjoy yourself,
Immunity
Written By Sajid Husain Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Warriors Do Not Have The Hearts
I am in search of a heart,
In which miseries,
Of my people could breath;
And the warriors
Do not have the hearts.
My people are born,
But without peace and liberty;
They remain alive.
And die.
When we wished,
To speak for our rights,
Our voices stuck,
To the vocal-cords.
We are the numbers,
With which rulers play,
The game of plus and minus.
Hearken! The eye of glass,
Is always sans sight,
I have the song,
But not the voice;
You have the voice,
But not the song.
Let us then sing
The song altogether,
For the birds
Have forsaken to sing.
I in the concert when sing
The song of peace,
In appreciation get disgust,
As if
The people
Have conspired with the Death.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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