At night, I see the moon,
Looks Like a beautiful balloon.
Dr. Muhammad Ishaq Abbasi, hailing from Khuian village, Tehsil Kahuta, Islamabad, Pakistan, shares his poetry
Dr. Muhammad Ishaq Abbasi, born on November 16, 1975, in Khuian village, Tehsil Kahuta, Islamabad, Pothohar area of Pakistan, is an internationally recognized poet, writer, and educator. Writing primarily in English, his literary works focus deeply on Nature and Peace, themes close to his heart and central to his lifelong mission. From a very young age, Dr. Abbasi faced profound personal loss—his mother passed away when he was just three years old, after a tragic fall into a ravine. This early life hardship shaped his resilient spirit and inspired his poetic voice, which now echoes the message of peace, humanity, and emotional resilience across borders. He has won multiple awards and has consistently secured top positions in numerous national and international poetry competitions. His poems have been published in anthologies, literary journals, newspapers, and magazines around the world. Dr. Abbasi is also a vibrant member of over 30 global literary and humanitarian organizations. In 2024, Dr. Abbasi earned 3rd place in the prestigious Friedrich von Schiller International Literary Competition held in Germany, marking yet another milestone in his literary journey.
The Moon
At night, I see the moon,
Looks Like a beautiful balloon.
Its color is silver white,
Presents a charming sight.
Sitting silently, in the sky,
Smiles at me and rely.
With joy, spreads its light,
Which is why I feel delight.
In a season of hotness and cold,
It is friend of children and old.
It neither eats not drinks,
Sometimes expands and shrinks.
Shares love and avoids hate,
Sometimes appears early and late.
***
The Beauty
The BeautyColorful flowers were blooming,
In a circle along the river.
Inside the circle of flowers,
Different birds formed a circle.
Inside, the peacock was dancing.
When he spread his tail,
It looked like a fan.
His sarcastic style was overwhelming.
His face was as red as a rose petal with pride.
He could see nothing but himself.
After a while, she stopped dancing.
The beauty of the river flow,
The beauty of the flowers,
The different colors of the birds,
And the beauty of the trees also faded before the peacock’s dance and beauty.
Everyone was praising the beauty of the peacock.
But what about the beauty of the maker of this beauty?
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Read: Deserted Vineyard – Poetry from Pakistan
