Abdul Wahab


Does the sinner contained by the sin?


The urge in you to get the non-gettable
Is not new, it is old since the time
Of the creation, creator is no where
In his creation as this is not a dream
That from it a dreamer is inseparable
Poetry does not contain the poet, he
Pours his emotion and simply walk off
Sighing, every one would have got his
Or her creator if we found the painter in his
Painting as we find a dancer in flesh
And blood in his or her art, dancing

This is utterly blasphemous to claim
By a creation that its creator mingles
Within as it is disgraceful to say that
The sinner is contained by the sin,

Submitted: Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Does the sinner contained by the sin? by Abdul Wahab )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

New Poems

  1. To My Son, Robert Leary
  2. I am yours forever, gajanan mishra
  3. सिनायमोनि आंनि सिमांनि रजे, Bahadur Basumatary
  4. Wildly Into The Night, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  5. Drunk poetry, Christian Lacdael
  6. Opportunities, Christian Lacdael
  7. COPLA 68 INVOCATION: This Bad Guy World, T (no first name) Wignesan
  8. Yes I Do, Lalit Kaira
  9. Wooden Footprints, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  10. New Migration Equilibriums Time Shift Es.., Terence G. Craddock

Poem of the Day

poet Edmund Spenser

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]