Chair (Two)
Who does not want to hold
And cares your hand but
Soon Regret while realizes
You are nothing but
a seat of thorn
a headache
before sitting upon you
you create ill feelings
and blood shed
you put a man
above all
but make him alone
but man is helpless
while standing
upon his two
feeble and fragile
the back aches
nothing he sees
but sit upon you
you keep the back bone
straight
and keep the brain
fresh
sitting upon you
so many make the white pages
black
with the yellow fallen foliage
get name fame and prizes
but you remain
unrecognised
poem by Abdul Wahab
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