Aadil Ghulam Bhat

  I the impassionate to play the game of love.  Will seek the spirit of love, blessedness thereof.  Was anguish to love, i the quite imperfect,  But upon whom i fall, i know not.  I've searched for you on every night.  I've called out for you in every dream.  Blameless in due time, but in silent grave.  And my nights are slow, sad and strange.  When my words fall heavily, none come to listen.  No longer need you to hide too well I the falling leaf of autmn, seek the perfect race.  I the eld thought, seal the deal to heal.  WATCH GLORIOUS POEMS ON YOUTUBE Follow on instagram https://instagram.com/blogger_poet Follow on blogger. https://adilghulambhat.blogspot.com Follow on Facebook. https://facebook.com/Poetrywriteraadilgulambhat Follow on Twitter. https://twitter.com/poetryblog.

  Peregrine in the midst, glide down to crimson west.  Awesome standing against sky, promising hundred births of best.  And into the blue blood battle of deep and moving waves.  Then served eleven waves till to made them slaves.  None out of eleven shouting, haunted waves are at rest.  Ignobly, all the eleven can't refuse even with utmost request.  Still singing one more time, forgot about my potion.  And is a glory in strange storming winds over ocean.  No sailing boat, no sight of shore anymore.  Sans tranquility, ocean of eleven waves was not lonely before.  Follow on instagram https://instagram.com/blogger_poet Follow on blogger. https://adilghulambhat.blogspot.com Follow on Facebook. https://facebook.com/Poetrywriteraadilgulambhat Follow on Twitter. https://twitter.com/poetryblog.

  And also, this morning when i woke,  The pleasant colours were turn'd into black n white.  The Apples,  still on the trees, shrouded by white.  Still soldered to their branches by frozen snow.  The Paddy grains, in the white feilds,  Hanging to their spikelets,, are wrapped with scarves.  It sems like I've seen through  the window,  The near future of middle winter laid over Autumn.  The ending season of harvesting, splash the crops and fruits,  Along the whinny outcry across the watery lands. It will not stay over long, like a nightmare,  But the early winter snow turned Parterre into grave.

On the coast of the deep oceans. Moment by moment,where cold tides blow in motion.   And in the middle of a blue mirror.  Even with fear, lived some really happiest creature.  Then a sailor in his sailing boat.  Putting the fishing tackle in their throat.  Even at nights, drawn from their home.  With water, of which they used to roam.  Even God has promised us much mercies.  All heavens ready without pain,full of worthies, oh! why did we, get into this mess?  If all breathen hearts are equally more and less.

 In the vain, all the world strike the conspiracy.  And sing the song of true manliness and glee.  Sense of justice crossed the distance mendaciously,  All is the reflection of false notion, not to agree.  Although some want a little more to explore, but,  The only fear to crub is, to rise, to fall  anymore,  Looser fear to fall and winner drive to rise more.  Of such a wit a man should  have anymore The wealthy, of great ego and fame in his name.  Had a kind of respect, comely and legacy to protect.  Nevertheless, a poor, begger, rich, healthy all in front.  By same oaths, making mere breathed name of god.  Follow on instagram https://instagram.com/blogger_poet Follow on blogger. https://adilghulambhat.blogspot.com Follow on Facebook. https://facebook.com/Poetrywriteraadilgulambhat Follow on Twitter. https://twitter.com/poetryblog.

Tonight, my pale hands witness the volleyed and thundered.  The vale of death into the mouth of hell.  Stormed with deceit, through which i blundered.  Plunged into the false notion of fear and sundered.  Tonight, no reason why,  while all night wandered.  Flashed all the rejoice and the glory i made.  On the day in front of them, all the world wondered.  Then the muffled voice, rode and well, shattered and sundered.  Tonight the heart is broken into fragments, truly bothered.  Pain left of me, lost its wayin deserts sand.  Where complaints of heart into heaven of blurred.  Tonight, tonight, i write to defend myself, but unbowed.  Read more.  https://adilghulambhat.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2021-09-09T02:36:00-07:00&max-results=5&m=1#PageNo=2 Follow on instagram https://instagram.com/blogger_poet Follow on blogger. https://adilghulambhat.blogspot.com Follow on Facebook. https://facebook.com/Poetrywritera...

  All the things has a cause to happen.  The sun, the morning, the stars, the night,  The golden sun to morning, the stars to night.   Merely all played the age of miracles.  The creeping school boy, with utmost unwillingness.  The solider with oath at lips, adhere solidarity.  Then the beggars to congested streets, struggle to live.  They all played the age of miracles.  The birds return to their nests, with hope. Some whining acts of patients, bearing the pain.  Enormous joy of prisoners, to be released And these just played the ages of miracles.  NIGHTS IN SOLITUDE.  Read more poems...  https://wanirohitqadir.blogspot.com/ Follow on instagram https://instagram.com/blogger_poet Follow on blogger.  https://adilghulambhat.blogspot.com Follow on Facebook.  https://facebook.com/Poetrywriteraadilgulambhat Follow on Twitter.  https://twitter.com/poetryblog.