Arfa Karim's English Poetry Collection....

​***White ROse***



​

In the storm
Stands the white rose
tumultuous waves
of destruction abound her

Yet tall is the white rose
strong in the face
Of the sensed doom around her
And she does not bow down
Pure is the white rose
In the compost earth
growing eternal strength
in the nights that so hurtI see not the white rose
She is so far away
But I long to protect her
But only the words can I saySo I send her my words
And my poets heart
To help her when
there is hope to see her throughBe Strong little flower
Your heart will guide true
And as long as you want
I will always talk to you …

Arfa Karim Randhawa​

[FONT=Arial][FONT=Open Sans]

A friend is someone who understands and

someone you can trust.

They will listen to you both night and day without ever making a fuss.

A friend will stand by your side when you are right and sometimes when you are wrong.

They will hold you up when you are weak and provide support to make you strong.

A friend's love is unconditional and unique in every way.

And when you have problems a true friend will kneel with you and pray.

A friend will stand by your side through thick and thin.

And whenever everyone have deserted you they still will be your friend.

A friend once said to me that a friend is sent from God above and I believe this to be true.

Because God has sent a friend to me and that friend to me is YOU.

[FONT=Arial]Connected to God, in tune with nature,
heartfelt passions spoken in a line.
What better place to find serenity
than in the prayer of a poet online.

Gathered in unity, divided in style;
souls searching for perfect peace
touching lives by a timely rhyme
giving solace and pain's release.

Seeking an emissary to heaven's throne?
To whisper entreaties to Angels there;
No better place to reach God's ear
than through the power of a poet's prayer.[

[FONT=Arial]

The Ghost
I heard a creepy ghost
And down was he creeping
Was it a sound in my head
Or the bedroom ​

door

creaking

It was tall as the tallest tree
Playing chase with the wind
It could shrink to the size of a lea
And all it wants is a friend

I heard that ghost
Sliding under the door
It is in my room
Creeping across the floor

It is in my school
Hovering behind my chair
It is behind my friend
Combing cold hands through her hair

It has changed in to a flea
Sitting on a bulb holder
Its next stop to sit would be
Your big smelly shoulder ​

How can you stay polite and nice?
When the people around you challenge and fight.
When the anger in you reaches the height.
When the tolerance you have leaves your sight.
Your friends consider your patience as fright.
When the anger of revenge is standing upright.
When you want to kill yourself or the one who fights.
But you know that losing temper is not right.
When all the people you love degrade you alike.
When you consider your life as a cut off kite.
And yourself as helpless as a boat on a tide.
Or a dry leaf on a stormy night.
The life seems as dark as night.
OH! God how to stay polite and nice.

My mom is very sweet and always caring.
She worries about me when I am in school.
She makes sure that I get where I am going
On time so that I don't feel like a fool.
She cares whenever I pick on my younger brother.
She cares whenever he or I get hurt.
She cares whenever I score a goal in soccer.
She cares about the buttons on my shirt.

But best of all, my mom loves all of us
Who live with her, both when we're good and bad.
She makes me happy with a hug and kiss
And holds my hand whenever I am sad.

Overlooking the shore of time lies a man sent,
On a mere journey to find the heart in nothing,
With his strength and questioning mind spent,
Stopping once to take in hand a bird's injured wing.

Lost are the graces that make courtiers cry,
Gone from here the memories of soft life,
Vanishing on the crag are passions that die,
And nothing more is left of painful strife.

A tended wing to the creature with weakened faith,
Tidied blood hidden to show all stoic senses,
Amid the expanse of nature yet alone in truth,
Too long has it gone without gentle hands.

A fix and fast as said - It rises up from the dead,
Noting briefly the helper before leaving it's bed,
Flaps the wings and offers closed eyes,
Flying off in the mist without further good-byes.

The crouched figure turns to view the sea,
Wondering at the red crests of the sky,
Stretching on forever without a cause to be,
Yet solemn in it's grace as anyone high.

The rocks of the side hold tightly together,
Praying to nothing and all in final glory,
Calling out yet not making a sound in pain,
Seeing light yet unable to enter it now.

His eyes are downcast to the fiery waves,
Light shining from the dwindling sun bright,
Seeking the answer to what he craves,
Thinking - No, knowing, but fears the light.

A look back to the path he's come silently,
Then again a glance to the ocean below,
A final twist of form and he leaves it be,
Leaving a faint rose cast into the briny sea.

The bird chirps from a nearby hold at the man,
Seeing more than any uncaring human can,
Noting the poor grace of terror so shear,
Missing not the man's fallen tear.

Bohat Khoob
Nice Sharing