Their words like needle.
Arranged smartly with trick.
So that it hurts maximum.
Utmost it pricks.
My words when hit back;
Like some venom in cowl.
They scream with pain.
They cry foul.
Now character analysis they do.
Many of them, not just few.
Each has something to say.
And at the end of day;
Papers banged infront me.
My Character certificates I see.
Not one or two but so many.
But do I need any.
Now listen very carefully.
I want to make it known.
I need only one certificate;
And that is my own.
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Comments about this poem (Character Certificates by Md. Asadullah )
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(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 1, 1921)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(17 June 1867 – 2 September 1922)
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