English Poems

[IamDZJ]

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

[NorthernLights]

‘Perhaps not to be is to be without your being.’

Perhaps not to be is to be without your being,
without your going, that cuts noon light
like a blue flower, without your passing
later through fog and stones,
without the torch you lift in your hand
that others may not see as golden,
that perhaps no one believed blossomed
the glowing origin of the rose,
without, in the end, your being, your coming
suddenly, inspiringly, to know my life,
blaze of the rose-tree, wheat of the breeze:
and it follows that I am, because you are:
it follows from ‘you are’, that I am, and we:
and, because of love, you will, I will,
We will, come to be.

By Pablo Neruda

[Haris]

A Time of Change


This is the news -
Not to be confused with reality,
But rather some sci-fi blockbuster or nightmare flick
Before the hero puts it all to rights,
Two dreadful flights into two uprights,
Pillars of Mammon, alters for the dead to die on.

A coffin, shaped with wings,
Crashed into an office where the receptionist was instantly vapourised,
And the fireball that took off her eyelashes before peeling away her face
Was part of a giant conspiracy to start World War Three,
Or maybe direct attention from a failing economy,
Or perhaps put a pipeline across Afghanistan with the sole purpose of pumping out liquid gold.

Still, conspiracies as they go are never as strange as real life,
And whilst we mock those waiting for the Truth to emerge we quite forget that our Truth,
Though in front of our noses,
Will never be seen, usually because it’s terribly obscene.

There: let’s say it, that 2000 gone is nothing compared to millions dead
Snuffed out by wars, disease and starvation,
Whose sole monuments to life will be patchy graves in the middle of desolation,
Whose only hopes lay in a cynical world’s exploitation of them either as sweat-shop labour
Or as the recipient of that ultimate degradation,
Charity;

Let’s say it again, now blazon it on high, that the price for all our wealth
And our rich world’s grief
Are millions who anonymously die,
And that we, who beat our chests and cry know NOTHING of the real end of dreams,
Because at least our dreams have a beginning –
Whilst those who live in permanent grey
Can only see the world from day to day
As one drab scene through which they trudge
At the bottom end of the feeding chain,
The life of the eternal drudge …

Of course, we’ve tried! – but tried what ?
Tried to be shot of nagging guilt, with monuments we have built to our generosity
Revealed as shams,
A World Bank, a United Nations,
Gravy train meetings at frequent stations
Of the already portly
Caught on camera and shortly to be shown on Crime Watch U.K (if only),
Their cover blown,
A criminal fraternity spending eternity going from table to table
Discussing the problems of the poor

Whilst the poor scream of death at the door.

This, you see, is the flaw – that no one actually really CARES
(Until two aeroplanes catch us unawares).

Poverty, then, is just a fleeting camera shot,
A gasp of despair,
Caught and turned in empty mid-air
Into pleas
That fill our high-res screens
For a moment – no more -
Before we switch to something important,
Snow on the line,
The price of beer,
The style of some celebrity’s hair.

Really, you couldn’t make it up, it’s so unfair -
The giant maw of the West devours all that’s best
And spews out lies
(No surprise),
How it’s ‘Market forces’ and ‘All have choices’,
‘Capitalism works’, ‘Equal voices’,
And all have a chance to be Big Bosses
(Privatised gains, socialised losses),
And if your nation’s on its knees
It’s all YOUR fault (if you please!)
For somehow failing to play the game
In a market regulated (so insane)
By those with power but no morality,
Stealing your wealth, returning charity.

No connection, then, between the burning towers
And the lives and hopes that the West devours.

None at all.

Democracies undermined, dictators supported,
Lives impoverished, wealth exported:
How can cause lead to deadly effect,
Religion the tool by which power is checked?

‘Hatred!’ we scream, closing our eyes,
Not seeing that OUR hatred has caused this surprise.

The answer’s simple:
We start to love,
As I’m sure a God above
Would desire.

Compassion beats bombs any day -
As does a willingness to pray.

God, give us wisdom and insight,
And help us head towards the light.



- Richard Macwilliam

[IamDZJ]

these castle walls

within these castle walls
faded dreams and silent streams
haunted themes till time redeems
winding thoughts through ancient walls

within these castle walls
faith denied and mothers cried
hope, you lied for none replied
the forlorn sighs of our hollowed calls

with in these castle walls
enduring grief yet laughter brief
i implore relief for a fallen leaf
of springs unseen yet scores of falls

within these castle walls
the soul that craves for the unmarked graves
in the path that paves for the tethered slaves
of withered seasons and the darkest squalls
within these castle walls...


Apocalyptic Bass (Zabi)

[Shafiullah-Ahmadzai]

A moment

I wait in bits, for misery to shun;
The glitz of a limpid door
The waves of pain await a shore
The scent of lies, on a drowsy floor
A fagged gaze with hopes to soar,
The curtain falls, but floats some more,
A tireless worker plans to scratch the core
She spreads her wings, and bats her lashes,
A painted blush that swings in splashes
She took a step, that flawed the truth
And swayed a gaze that felt a sleuth,
She smiled and set, the life on pause
The heavens peached a mute applause
In finespun coat of her lucent cheek,
Lies a scent, that Angels seek
And the sweetest wine crawls her crimson lips,
The ceaseless hair makes my heart eclipse
I turn away from the sight of bliss,
To a lonesome sunset, by a deep abyss
Spit and stomp, and embrace my script,
I call upon end in an un'named crypt


-Shafiullah Ahmadzai 2007

[IamDZJ]

I often wonder where lie hidden the boundaries of recognition
between man and the beast whose heart knows no spoken language.
Through what primal paradise in a remote morning of creation ran
the simple path by which their hearts visited each other.
Those marks of their constant tread have not been effaced though
their kinship has been long forgotten.
Yet suddenly in some wordless music the dim memory wakes up and
the beast gazes into the man's face with a tender trust, and
the man looks down into its eyes with amused affection.
It seems that the two friends meet masked and vaguely know each
other through the disguise.

[Zirey]

The Eternal Goodness by John Greenleaf Whittier

O Friends! with whom my feet have trod
The quiet aisles of prayer,
Glad witness to your zeal for God
And love of man I bear.

I trace your lines of argument;
Your logic linked and strong
I weigh as one who dreads dissent,
And fears a doubt as wrong.

But still my human hands are weak
To hold your iron creeds:
Against the words ye bid me speak
My heart within me pleads.

Who fathoms the Eternal Thought?
Who talks of scheme and plan?
The Lord is God! He needeth not
The poor device of man.

I walk with bare, hushed feet the ground
Ye tread with boldness shod;
I dare not fix with mete and bound
The love and power of God.

Ye praise His justice; even such
His pitying love I deem:
Ye seek a king; I fain would touch
The robe that hath no seam.

Ye see the curse which overbroods
A world of pain and loss;
I hear our Lord`s beatitudes
And prayer upon the cross.

More than your schoolmen teach, within
Myself, alas! I know:
Too dark ye cannot paint the sin,
Too small the merit show.

I bow my forehead to the dust,
I veil mine eyes for shame,
And urge, in trembling self-distrust,
A prayer without a claim.

I see the wrong that round me lies,
I feel the guilt within;
I hear, with groan and travail-cries,
The world confess its sin.

Yet, in the maddening maze of things,
And tossed by storm and flood,
To one fixed trust my spirit clings;
I know that God is good!

Not mine to look where cherubim
And seraphs may not see,
But nothing can be good in Him
Which evil is in me.

The wrong that pains my soul below
I dare not throne above,
I know not of His hate, - I know
His goodness and His love.

I dimly guess from blessings known
Of greater out of sight,
And, with the chastened Psalmist, own
His judgments too are right.

I long for household voices gone.
For vanished smiles I long,
But God hath led my dear ones on,
And He can do no wrong.

I know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise,
Assured alone that life and death
His mercy underlies.

And if my heart and flesh are weak
To bear an untried pain,
The bruised reed He will not break,
But strengthen and sustain.

No offering of my own I have,
Nor works my faith to prove;
I can but give the gifts He gave,
And plead His love for love.

And so beside the Silent Sea
I wait the muffled oar;
No harm from Him can come to me
On ocean or on shore.

I know not where His islands lift
Their fronded palms in air;
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond His love and care.

O brothers! if my faith is vain,
If hopes like these betray,
Pray for me that my feet may gain
The sure and safer way.

And Thou, O Lord! by whom are seen
Thy creatures as they be,
Forgive me if too close I lean
My human heart on Thee!

[IamDZJ]

Little fly
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away
Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou*
A man like me?
For I dance
And*drink and sing
Till some blind hand*
Shall brush my wing
If thought is life
And strength and breath
And the want
if thought is death
Then am I
A happy fly
If I live
If I die

[IamDZJ]

O rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy;
And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.

[IamDZJ]

A learned man came to me once.
He said, "I know the way, -- come."
And I was overjoyed at this.
Together we hastened.
Soon, too soon, were we
Where my eyes were useless,
And I knew not the ways of my feet.
I clung to the hand of my friend;
But at last he cried, "I am lost."

[Insaaf_انصاف]

A learned man came to me once.
He said, "I know the way, -- come."
And I was overjoyed at this.
Together we hastened.
Soon, too soon, were we
Where my eyes were useless,
And I knew not the ways of my feet.
I clung to the hand of my friend;
But at last he cried, "I am lost."

[IamDZJ]

The CLOD & the PEBBLE

"Love seeketh not Itself to please,
"Nor for itself hath any care,
"But for another gives its ease,
"And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair."
So sang little Clod of Clay
Trodden with the cattle's feet
But a Pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet:
"Love seeketh only Self to please,
"To bind another to Its delight,
"Joys in another's loss of ease,
"And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite."

[capiche1992]

A Farewell

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver:
No more by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.
Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
A rivulet then a river;
No where by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.
But here will sigh thine alder tree,
And here thine aspen shiver;
And here by thee will hum the bee,
For ever and for ever.
A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

By: Alfred Tennyson

[IamDZJ]

What is your substance, whereof are you made,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend?
Since every one hath, every one, one shade,
And you but one, can every shadow lend.
Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you;
On Helen’s cheek all art of beauty set,
And you in Grecian tires are painted new:
Speak of the spring, and foison of the year,
The one doth shadow of your beauty show,
The other as your bounty doth appear;
And you in every blessed shape we know.
In all external grace you have some part,
But you like none, none you, for constant heart.

[IamDZJ]

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,
Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O Thou,
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed

The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low,
Each like a corpse within its grave, until
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow

Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)
With living hues and odours plain and hill:

Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and Preserver; hear, O hear!

II

Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's commotion,
Loose clouds like Earth's decaying leaves are shed,
Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,

Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread
On the blue surface of thine airy surge,
Like the bright hair uplifted from the head

Of some fierce Mænad, even from the dim verge
Of the horizon to the zenith's height,
The locks of the approaching storm. Thou Dirge

Of the dying year, to which this closing night
Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,
Vaulted with all thy congregated might

Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere
Black rain and fire and hail will burst: O hear!

III

Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams
The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,
Lulled by the coil of his chrystalline streams,

Beside a pumice isle in Baiæ's bay,
And saw in sleep old palaces and towers
Quivering within the wave's intenser day,

All overgrown with azure moss, and flowers
So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou
For whose path the Atlantic's level powers

Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below
The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear
The sapless foliage of the ocean, know

Thy voice, and suddenly grow grey with fear,
And tremble and despoil themselves: O hear!

IV

If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;
If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;
A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share

The impulse of thy strength, only less free
Than thou, O Uncontrollable! If even
I were as in my boyhood, and could be

The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven,
As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed
Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven

As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.
Oh! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!
I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!

A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed
One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.

V

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies

Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe,
Like wither'd leaves, to quicken a new birth!
And, by the incantation of this verse,

Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened Earth

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?