Poem By Gulam Abbas Hashmi

I started a search, to even my lord;
it ended, on the verge my Lord was slain.
The mystery of truth, the mightiness of being-
all centered on me; all was lost in one gain.

The mocking of dour, the subduing art;
and barking of bullying blasphemy talks,
the wisdom; to carry a bountiful stock
rest now; all spent, in this pit, in this dark.

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Other poems of HASHMI

Am I Lazy?

When the need provokes;
the body does not act.
I on the counterpart,
rest in my shell.

Toss N Turns

Those turns you take in sleep;
in night awakes me often.
I grab you once more tight,
my dreams renew and soften.

For Me.

Somehow I did succeed;
letting my pencil, down the corner,
and start to recede.
The road of thought I ponder,


Summon to you -
all those hidden and pampered thoughts;
come forth and fight,
not for the world,

Final Hour (Acrostic)

Forecasted, this is to the world
In very crystal words
Nobody stays
Although, every one of us

Paradise (Acrostic)

Plunge out thy each and every wish;
at last they are summoned.
Render away all fear of sin,
Alas! the Day of Judgment comes.