MUHAMMAD MAHTAB BASHIR
mahtabbashir@gmail.com
+92 333 53 63 248
ISLAMABAD
Mother is the most priceless blessing God has personally gift- wrapped for each one of us. As the saying goes,'God cannot be everywhere so he created mothers,' no amount of words will ever be enough to thank mother for all that she has done for me.
You are a paragon of love, a sparkling star
You curb my woes, you and dad stand at par
You teach me religion, a value of chastity
Love-oriented disciplining facts, a way of eternity
You are a soothing balm when I’m bogged down
I need your shadow not diamond, pearl or a crown
Your existence in this world is my prized possession
Every word you utter is my own expression
You express your mirth upon all my successes
You buy for me, chic toys, and posh dresses
My childish trivial worries are massive for you
You solve them with ease and that is true
You are a precious jewel in a setting of my life
Your erudite wisdom, gives me comfort, vanish strife
You lend me hands when I fell down and cry
Your presence makes me ten feet tall and high
You stand besides me neglecting everyone
I’m regretted, in response I give you none
I feel so indebted and so grateful to God
Who blessed me a simple mother, not a mod
‘The hand that rock the cradle rules the world’
Is the most ultimate truth I’ve ever heard
May your joys through life be as free
As dancing waves on the deep blue sea
Published in The Nation, Jun 2, 2007, Pakistan Observer, May 8, 2005, The weekly MAG, May 7-13 2005, May 8-14, 2004, Dec 6-12, 2003, The Nation Jun 2, 2003.
Romiya Mansoor Emails from Karachi:
May 9, 2008 10:36 PM
Aoa
good janab
keep going
nice articulations of words, expressions and feelings
Take care
Allahhafiz
Pity de nation dat is full of beliefs and empty of religion. Pity de nation dat wears a cloth it does not weave, eats a bread it does not harvest, and drinks a wine dat flows not from its own wine-press. Pity de nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking. Pity de nation whose sages r dumb wid years and whose strong men r yet in the cradle. Pity de nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.-KG
Friday, March 14, 2008
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