Osama Waqar

Ah! Islamic republic of Pakistan! Isn't it so?
By the facts n' figures and truth n' lies it is not.
The cheery land, once deserved by them;
We do not merit this. Oh! What a shame?
...

I see the young, I see the old,
I see their every face.
I see the world in sands of time,
With oceans in the race.
...

We will have no more than a life to own,
We will reap, sure, what we have sown;
There will be years of despondence,
They can be good by a happy tone.
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Why walk with soul so dead?
Why move as to pretend?
Why eat with such a dread?
Why drink with easing bend?
...

O' What a throbbing attitude,
For my delicious solitude.

For on the grass yet greenly still,
And in the gardens of the hill.
...

While the trees will give me the thoughts I need,
For the life of roses beneath the leaves,
There's a light for me and for everyone,
To repay the shadows of days and eves.
...

Along the road in the morning,
I saw the sun horning n' horning.
I saw the sky; turning blue,
I saw the light giving the clue.
...

I am the throne of self-esteem,
Just ‘I' and ‘me, my vigilant team;

I will do wonders when believed,
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The big fire ball,
The biggest of them all,
is making the stall.
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It seems as if to deceive is nice;
as if your power has struck once more.
It seems as if you can be bad,
and have the last laugh.
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This burn you see on everyone's mind
and bodies, is nothing more;
but signs of life.
That scar you see that life is marring,
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The stars have burnt all what they had,
And I have learnt that everyone's mad.
Yet madness comes, though, from within;
Be it the bumps through thick and thin.
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Not pure of heart are we
Our souls are full of hate
All else shall go in vain
Our petrifying state!
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There's so much to it-
This raw bleeding, daring, fighting mind.
This shocked, mocked, stocked yet locked, mind.
This pure, unique thing.
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Spring cannot shun me.
For I remain, A legendary flower.
I must provide the light, in spite
of hearings fo the hour.
...

Life is to feel, to enjoy, to swim.
In the meadows of wonder,
‘Tis to plough the rough valleys
Of deeply rooted yet unsettled motion.
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The truth of life, the wealthiest health,
The cause of good, a happiest act.
The need of love, the sky above;
We are afraid to face the fact.
...

How poor unfortunate souls they are;
Who neither know nor care to know,
What causes purity in the snow,
What causes sunshine in the hay.
...

The winds are hot, the summer is deep.
The place is taught to weep and weep.

The blazing air on marshy lands,
...

What would we do if we had no dreams?
No themes, no streams, no things to play
With; Darkness all and all around.
...