Aadil Ghulam Bhat

Once free, I roamed the sky, With wings that carried me high. A world of wonder, a life of bliss, No cage, no chains, no tethered kiss. But then one day, I met a man, Who offered food with a gentle hand. I trusted him, I had no fear, For in my heart, there was no smear. But as I sat upon his palm, He locked me up in his realm. The cage was small, the walls were cold, My wings were clipped, my spirit sold. I sang a song of freedom then, Of skies that held me high again. I cried and wept for what I'd lost, My innocence, my bliss, my cost. And yet I sang with patience too, For in my heart, I knew it's true, That freedom comes to those who wait, Who persevere, who don't berate. So with my voice, so sweet and clear, I sang a song for all to hear, Of tyranny and betrayal too, Of beauty lost, and pain that's new. I the innocent bird, with my pity voice, Sang the song of tyranny, with no rejoice. But still, i croon with all my might, For freedom, for justice, for the light. The...

My total indifference and poverty, Where humiliation weighs Heavily as a slab of concrete. And the egos are waiting for the Promised advent of altruistic birds Without egoistic plumage Longer than a day, hot, and far too large For their meagre contents. On the branches of egoistic fate, Vultures of Simplicity ought to be present. Observing people's attempts to give Their life some appearance of Significance, yet this stillness is gradually developing across the globe Their egoistic fate is a bleached night. Rich people's wings sweep my dignity, And for a brief moment, they see The poor as they fade into obscurity, Their heads bowed in defiance of The sour wind of money. The poem describes the struggles of an individual who faces poverty and humiliation, surrounded by a world driven by ego and materialism. It highlights the irony of people's attempts to find significance in their lives while neglecting the simplicity and altruism that could bring them true happiness. The poe...

I walked among the tidal wails.  In the suit of scarlet red:  And steps seemed dark and bright.  My hat was on its head, But I never saw myself, looked  So wistfully at the day's end. I never saw myself, looked  With such a wistful eye  Upon that little tent of stars  Which people call the hope of eye,  And at every cloudy vision  Onto each foggy image that passed by. None did wring my hands, as do Those imbecile people who dare  To try to rear the jerk  Hope In the cave of black Despair:  I only looked upon the blue.  And Inhale the hopeful air. None did wring my hands nor weep.  Nor did i peak or pine. But i breath the air as though it held  Some healthful tedious, somewhat decline With open mouth i drank the hope  As though it had been red wine! I along with all the other suffering  That were trampling the other ring.  Forgot wheather i had done something  Noteworthy. i simply was dull amaz...

I wade ashore at the crack of dawn with a spear and a shield in my hands.  I must have frequently trod on death unaware. The square sails of our fleet flutter in the breeze behind me  As the dragons search for my adversary and their little spears,  Which swarm like flies. The mail coat rubs on my shoulders. I have no escape from the sea, but none is desired,  So by the next high tide either my fanatic will point as promised  Or the battle-watchers will have taken me all. I am a thread in the tapestry of history today. Poem summary: The poem above is a short, descriptive piece that paints a picture of a warrior wading ashore at dawn, ready for battle. "A Tale of Strategy and Valor", seems to be a descriptive tale of a warrior who has just arrived on a beach at dawn, ready to engage in battle, based on the context provided in the poem. The savage wields a spear and a shield, and their mail coat, which is causing discomfort to their shoulders, is rubbing against th...

When I found your pale face on a pillow, A nest so heavy with nothing on willow. The sheded leaves had erased the allure. I hardly noticed in the late-night obscure. By this law, the knees are laced with spontaneity. Must I insist on an absence more unreasonably? When you look at me kindly and generously   Who am I to stop this flowing affection so harshly? I can’t see for the glum in my bed in traverse. It can stay in the heavens only by reversal. If i can't watch the creator, I will lose you. What angel takes the place of distance in leaf que? Theme: The poem is about the complex emotions of love and loss. The speaker is grappling with feelings of sadness and uncertainty as they try to understand their relationship with the person they love. The poem touches on the themes of mortality, change, and the transience of life. Summary: The poem begins with the speaker finding their lover's pale face on a pillow, which reminds them of the fragility of life. The leaves on the willow ...

Aadil Ghulam Bhat, a Poet, noveliest and the author of two poetry books "100 years of my painful nights " and his second entitled : "NIGHTS IN SOLITUDE" Besides, English poetry he also has a great contribution in the field of literature, he has a contribution in Urdu ghazals and novels too.  "NIGHTS IN SOLITUDE" is an amazing and exquisite poetry book, written in a Cordially and ecstasy manner, having 54 astounding poems.  The Poems are entwined and tied in a common thread of never ending adversities of life.  The Poems paint an esoteric picture of life and describes the everlasting plight of man.  The thoughts are antique, vivid and animate having a tinge of concealed wisdom.  The poems are mainly about., Pain, love, eld memories, faith and Blasphemy..  "NIGHTS IN SOLITUDE" is a verse based writing with Ocean of feelings and emotions.  The rhythm and style of author is quite interesting and very much impressive over the entire collection of book...

It's over, and did November not do nostalgic ease? Morning breezes, raucous calls of migratory geese,  And a coral moon that is floating low in the sky. Nor an autmn gold remained in the trees in sigh. Did I appreciate the vigorous foliage while it persisted? Was I astonished? the hive have up and left instead. Then dispersed to tremble in their wintery clumps. Sun's ricochet light behind drawn drapes and thumps. Around twelve in the afternoon, a closed sign appears. The filthy river, coughs forth reed grass like fatty as feather dusters. The throngs of children have succumbed to winter's great allure. A sky like Hovers' dried cement will definitely endure. .   Summary:  The poem is a reflection on the passing of time and the arrival of winter after the beauty of autumn has faded away. The speaker expresses regret for not appreciating the fall foliage while it lasted and laments the absence of the lively atmosphere that once filled the streets. The imagery in the poem ...