The Three Singulars Poem by Akhtar Jawad

The Three Singulars

Rating: 4.3


Pairs I see in the body of a human,
It's cruel to take anyone to pieces,
Being a human I am a bit cruel, too,
And I take myself in the pieces I have.

Eyes and ears and holes of the nose,
Lips and jaws, and the friends our hands,
Never the less my helpful legs,
The acts by pairs are balanced all time.

My rights are engaged in giving something,
My lefts take back whatever I give.
No profit no loss I break the even,
How to make the loss by sinful singulars?

But the singular two are the sinners in fact,
Hidden in the jaws my tongue so nonsense,
Delivered beauty under a blue moon,
Brought hates and dislikes, I hate you devil.

And device of pleasure, an idiot-maker,
You brought death and I lost paradise,
I couldn't see yet your real face,
A satanic agent in a lovely disguise!

My God! They were slaves of instinct,
What could I do, helpless I was,
I tried to control but often sometimes,
I'm Adam I failed what a beauty is an Eve!

Can you forgive the two for the third singular?
In the name of Your holy lovely home,
When it converges it becomes Your lovely face,
When it diverges it becomes the vast universe.

It's a mosque; it's a church, and a temple of truth,
Who grows old if the heart is a youth?
You know My Love it's not ugly at all,
Don't know whereabouts, but I act on its call.

Sunday, October 26, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: heart
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
An ancient misunderstanding the poor heart is nothing but a pump. The actual heart is somewhere else in our body and man is its slave.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Salini Nair 27 October 2014

But the singular two are the sinners in fact, Hidden in the jaws my tongue so nonsense, Delivered beauty under a blue moon, Brought hates and dislikes, I hate you devil..................great write

1 0 Reply
Valsa George 30 October 2014

It's a mosque; it's a church, and a temple of truth, Who grows old if the heart is a youth? You know My Love it's not ugly at all, Don't know whereabouts, but I act on its call. A poem on a unique theme, very philosophical! The last stanza on the heart isjust beautiful! Enjoyed much!

1 0 Reply
Paul Sebastian 28 October 2014

Your thoughts and lines build up to a beautiful concluding stanza: It's a mosque; it's a church, and a temple of truth, Who grows old if the heart is a youth? You know My Love it's not ugly at all, Don't know whereabouts, but I act on its call. Great write! Thank you.

1 0 Reply
Khalida Bano Ali 27 October 2014

A thoughtful poem........................

1 0 Reply
Geetha Jayakumar 27 October 2014

Beautiful poem with fantastic lines.... It's a mosque; it's a church, and a temple of truth, Who grows old if the heart is a youth? You know My Love it's not ugly at all, Don't know whereabouts, but I act on its call. Yes, Man is slave of time! Loved reading it.

1 0 Reply
Aftab Alam Khursheed 27 October 2014

It's a mosque; it's a church, and a temple of truth, Who grows old if the heart is a youth? You know My Love it's not ugly at all, Don't know whereabouts, but I act on its call. nice poem

1 0 Reply
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