Tag: Poetry
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Poem: The Flour Deaths
Do we need? The Prime Minister House The President’s palace The great old parliament The Muppets of our bureaucracy The old feudal lords, And the thousands acres The old hands of dictators And the warmth of lies From the leaders of our present
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In Memory of Ahmed Faraz
I remember his verses In his trails, words of revolution In his thoughts, words of gold Now carry we will, in our way In continuation, to find What became a dream? For the poet, for our friend A blessed soul, of our own Not borrowed, not stolen One of our own, the Faraz We will…