I can no longer write.. :'(

Yes it's true. I can't write the way I used to anymore. I don't know what had happened to me in the recent days. My last few posts have been very much disappointing. They were well below average.

I can't even manipulate words into poems, like I love doing. I can't bring myself to write things that come into my mind. Maybe it's the exams tension, the loads of homework pending or perhaps the lots of responsibilities. 

I am very disappointed. I am very sad. I want to cry. I want my mind to sort out whatever problem it has soon. Because I want to write. 

Hey! Maybe I am passing through the stage of the 'writer's block'! Stupid thing it is! :'( 

I'm missing you.. :(

Two weeks,
no see,
You have no idea,
that I'm missing you badly..

Your cute voice,
Your stupid jokes,
Your little shared secrets,
I'm missing it all..

Your hugs,
Your sweet kisses,
Your warmth,
I really miss them all..

I want you,
to hug you,
to kiss you,
to tell you how much I love you..

I care for you,
I want to talk to you,
I want to scold you,
For making me miss you..

The new season is here!

Gone the heavy rains,
Gone are the floods,
dry are the drains,
powdery has become the mud..

Out is the sun,
shining brightly,
it's time for fun,
to enjoy happily..

I know it's silly,
It sounds crazy,
but the weather is no longer chilly,
because it's warm presently..

No clouds,
just blue sky,
scorching sunlight,
burning inhabitants with all its might..

Actually, I was describing the winter season in my country currently.. :) 

Trees.. I feel damn sorry for them..

Trees, trees everywhere,
Short and tall,
small and big,
young and old..

But that was before,
the arrival of humans,
Who cut them down,
to use the land..

Trees are less nowadays. In my village, where the environment was green and beautiful, trees are being cut down. The folks wants the area to be clean and beautiful. WTF!!! Don't they see??? It was the trees that beautified the area. 

Yesterday, I saw that the branches of a huge, ancient Banyan tree had been cut down. I felt sad. I don't know why. I really felt sorry for that tree. It did not disturb the people's life in any way, because It was in a deserted area. Some dudes even used its for relaxing, But still it was cut down!!! For No reason!!! I mean WTF??? 

Black.. My favorite color..

When people ask me my favorite color,
I reply: "It's black",
They say I am quite peculiar,
and a taste for fashion I lack..

What a bunch of fools!
Making fun of me,
As if they appear so cool,
dressing all neat and whitey..

For me,
Black is cool,
Black is relevant,
Black is class..
Black is my favorite,
Black are my t-shirts,
Black are my pants, 
Black are my socks..
Black is my hair,
Black is my chair,
Black is the night,
Black is my computer,
Black are my turtles,
Black is my school bag..
Black is my pencil,
Black is my eraser,
Black is cleaner,
Black is a mistake hider,
hating black is unfair..

I don't hate white,
It is part of my life,
But I love black more,
Because I just can't help it..

What can I do..
Old habits die Hard!!

Winter is here.. :'(

Goodbye dear summer,
I'll miss you,
It's time to welcome winter,
who brought with him the flu..

I must now struggle,
to wake up early,
Because the winter chill,
make me feel very sleepy..

No more games,
no time to cheer,
Arrival of winter,
means exams are near..

The thought of it is scary,
because I hate to study,
Winters make me unhappy,
They make me feel lazy..

I wonder now,
When summer will come..
Bcoz each time it does,
It make life become awesome.. 

Why do I write??

So it's the last day of competition. Almost every entry is about "Why do I write?". Initially, I had thought that I would write about something different, but reading the other posts inspired me and I decided also to write about "Why do I write?"..

I write. Because I'm a writer. I have to express those feelings and incidents that I can't tell. I write to free myself of the feelings that are so annoying when I don't express them. I can't bear wasting time so I use it up by writing about anything.

I write. Because I love to play with words. I like the way I manage to put them together to form poems. It makes me feel like a modern Shakespeare even though I know I cannot be compared to him. It is a game where I try to make every write-up better than its previous one.

I write. Because I'm a student. I have to keep writing and writing to be better than the best. I have to keep on improving my writing skills until no one in the entire class can even dare to beat me and the teacher exclaims: "Who the hell wrote this essay for you???".

and finally..

I write. Because my better-half loves to read my poems. She encourages me to keep on writing. She believe I can be the best. She thinks writing is what differs me to other guys. She says that Writing and me are inseparable because it is a part of me...

Well, in a summary: I write. Because I love writing. Writing is fun and I keep writing.. :)

http://www.writerbabu.com/post/4461/why_do_i_write?_/

For what will the world remember me.. after I die??

I had like the world to.. WAIT!! The WORLD?? Forget about the world. I don't want to be Barack Obama or Usain Bolt. I don't like the aspect of being a mega-superstar, a celebrity. I just want to be me and have a normal and happy life.

Let's talk about <i>My world</i>..

Firstly, after I die, I had really loved the people involved in my life to remember me as a good man. Someone who respected people and lived as a real, rules-following Muslim throughout his life.

I want my mum and dad to remember that despite hating school so much, I completed my full studies. It was because I did not want them to be unhappy and disrespected in this fickle minded society. I had like them to remember all the little happy, unhappy memories that I spent with them since I was born..

I want my kids to remember that I really loved them so much and did my very best to keep them in the right way, the way of living according to Islam and was a really good daddy.

I want my dear wife to know that I loved her dearly and remember me as a loving and caring hubby who never dared to betray her trust and ill treat her and beat her as if she was a lifeless toy..

Well that's  all .. :)
http://www.writerbabu.com/post/4404/for_what_will_the_world_remember_me_after_i_die?/

The maths class poem..

I'm really so bored,
In this stupid maths class,
I can't help looking,
through the window glass..

The calm-looking blue sky,
Beautiful little birds passing by,
Chirping happily,
because they are free..

The sun shining brightly,
The wind blowing gently,
moving leaves slowly,
of trees standing proudly..

But still I'm here,
complaining and sitting grumpily,
tired of this shit,
feeling stupid and sleepy..

On that blackboard, I try to concentrate,
Full of notes and equations,
whatever teacher says sound like nonsense,
so I re-enter my little world of imagination..

Playing with words to form sentences,
as it is the hobby of a writer,
penning down my thoughts,
to me that's all that matter..

Finally the bell rings,
I am a again a "free bird",
happiness and relief everywhere,
makes me feel like the king of the world..

A tree

A fascinating sight,
was that tree,
Ancient and huge,
with an unknown history..

It had a big trunk,
more than thrice the size of electric poles,
which held the several branches,
stretching to make it tall..

Its many green leaves,
might have seem small and funny,
But together joined,
They made the tree an amazing beauty..

It had endurance,
to withstand the scorching sunlight,
and not to break and fall,
during all those stormy nights..

Providing priceless shade,
used by lots of people for relaxation,
and producing  satisfying fruits for the hungry,
without expecting any compensation

It provided shelter,
not only to the amazing chirping little birds,
But also to several tiny creatures,
Unseen by human being's naked eyes..

However, even though it survived the passage of time,
to make it through several eras,
Every creature has to die,
In the end it had to go down..

It was cut down,
By those cruel workers,
paid for the job,
by some stupid villagers..

There was once upon a time,
lived a tree,
which was cut down,
to make it history...

http://www.writerbabu.com/post/4220/a_tree_/

Sometimes I wonder...

Sometimes I wonder,
Anyone like me?
Or behind my back,
I am made fun of secretly..

Whatever the answer,
I don't care,
I do what I have to,
Because I dare..

Times have changed,
People claims to be modernized,
But Think upon it,
and realize we are still uncivilized..

Nowadays is a world,
where exists less originality,
People like something,
They just start to copy..

When a 15 year old decide to keep long hair,
he is said to be a monkey,
as if having his own style,
will make him stinky..

When someone speak the truth,
He is rude,
But guess what,
He has got attitude..

Teens smoke openly,
they are being cool,
But reading a storybook openly,
'huh',they say.. 'what a fool!'..

My poem is getting too long,
So I'm penning off here,
hope everyone likes it,
as I go secretly shed my sorrowful tears..