Hawraa

Favourite poets

Well, my father

First poem

A river flowed, yet you were denied a wave, The desert burned around the pure and brave. You stood alone against a cruel night, To flood this broken world with endless light. When heavy sorrow weighs upon my chest, And weary nights refuse to grant me rest, I see your final prayer upon the sand, And feel your patience hold my shaking hand. Your thirst became an ocean deep and wide, That drowned the tyrant’s armor and his pride. You gave your life to keep the truth alive, And taught my fainting spirit how to strive. I weep for you, and through the tears that fall, I find the strength to answer honor's call. O Hussain, the timeless beacon of the soul, Your beautiful sacrifice has made me whole

Published in

11th July 2026 A tiny hand grips his father’s neck, A bleeding stem in a world of wreck. A six-month rose, too pure to bloom, Crushed too soon in the desert's doom. "Just one drop," the father pleads, To save the little white rose from its deepest needs. But the arrow strikes like a winter storm, Tearing the flower so soft and warm. The crimson petals spill on the cloak, As the universe weeps for the stem that broke. The sweetest rose now softly sleeps.