Who is Prince Danish

Danish Rashid, was born and brought up in a middle class educated Yatoo family, which belongs to Patalbagh in Pampore area of Kashmir valley. He is a poet, writer, columnist, translator, short story writer.One of the Book 'Anthology Of Poems... SHEEN' He has also given his poems in it. He has earned many certificates in writing poems and stories. His poem's depicts sorrows, vicissitudes of life And his stories relate to what is happening in today's society. There are various hues in his stories ranging from love to loneliness and despair.Besides, his story is replete with the simplicity of thought and language.Some of the stories are autobiographical in nature which relate to his own life's vows. He contributes his articles/opinions for different news organizations in Kashmir LIKE BRIGHTER...
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Prince Danish Poems

  • Rebellion
    There seems to be no court in this country
    In which country, the human being is not protected
    To worship Allah is not enough
    But to help those who are in trouble is real worship ...
  • Endurance
    How hard it is to endurance
    Spending time with people from the heart
    Life could have been facile for us
    Learn to deal with any pain ...
  • Drug Abuse
    In these days, I walk in the mirror and see,
    What drugs and medicines have made me,
    My bones feel thicker than wood,
    My point of view is more than that, ...
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Prince Danish Quotes

  • Do not look at the evil eye, o son of man Not every daughter of eve is a prostitute / harlot / quean
  • Humanity is a huge treasure Don't find it in costume, find it in a human
  • No matter how happy someone is Lack of someone sometimes makes you cry
  • Love is not a simple dress which can be changed daily. But is a shroud, once wear can't be changed..
  • There is no need of your remembrance in leisure time, though we are alone but not useless
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Poem of the day

Matthew Arnold Poem
 by Matthew Arnold

We cannot kindle when we will
The fire which in the heart resides;
The spirit bloweth and is still,
In mystery our soul abides.
But tasks in hours of insight will'd
Can be through hours of gloom fulfill'd.

With aching hands and bleeding feet

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