2019, Poems and poetry

Creation from Chaos

Bring me to my paint brushes when I am away from home.
Remind me of this freedom when I am crying of suffocation.

If my hand is pulling for a noose and my eyes are blinded by rushing streams
Gently hold me by my shoulders, guide me to art and silence,

And give me enough time.

I will hopefully carve out a creation out of chaos.

(I mean, actually inshaa Allah and aameen to that. It’s…like…an actual thing)

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2019, By the roaring waves!, Poems and poetry, Urdu musings

Haar

Meray kuch khuwab hain
Unhe tum khareed lo
Umeedon ke jitnay rang
Zang pakaranay lagay hain
Un ka mai tou kia karun?
Tum samait lo
Beshak khali booseeda bastay me band kar ke chor do
Kaheen phaink do
Magar inhe zinda dargor hotay mai dekh nahi sakti
Ye zimmedari mai sahaar nahi sakti
So isay tum apnay sar le lo
Ye aik qatal meray naam pe
Meray maazi, meray haal, meray mustaqil ke sitaron jugnuon titliyun ka tum kardo
Aur akhir me
Apnay se jurri har yaad
Har baat
Is zaat ka har raaz
Dua, aansoo, hansi, marzi
Jala kar khaak kardo
Meri haar amar kardo



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2018, Poems and poetry, raw and rough

No edits.

It still means a cold hard blow
cold hard blow on the heart
like someone hammers it into pieces
while looking sideways
you’re so hurt yourself, you say
it was never intentional to reach
here. this
now
is our collective mistake. or something from the universe
if only you could stop right now
if only you could go back in time
one last time back in time one last —
you’d do it again.

You would.

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2017, Poems and poetry, raw and rough

all that

a g i t a t i o n

This time of the year you want to give up. You are so done. You could pack a bag and scurry off to the hills or something… even though this wasn’t what you wanted. But if you could find peace in any form you’ll want to go after it.

You are happy. You are laughing. You are making others laugh. There are fun sounds and dramatic gestures and such a sacred feeling of gratefulness it scares you.

You can see the mess. You know what it is even when you’re tapping your fingers on the keyboard pretending you can’t find the word you know you know the word, you know it’s called s t r u g g l e and sometimes it’s a name and sometimes, it’s a silly count of all your poems you never had the guts to share. When you end a day and begin another, you pat yourself on the shoulder because you can cut one on the self-help calendar in your mind, now it’s just 37 more days. After that, you will probably come up with another idea.

I wish I could tell you your burden is not your own but everyone’s collective burden is hell so yours is yours alone. Though there’s still some hope because – oh, I don’t know. But there is a heaven as well so there should be.

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2017, By the roaring waves!, Paintings and Scribblings, Poems and poetry

Keeper

Secrets are gifts. They don’t belong just everywhere. A secret lives where lives Love.

I have my grandmother’s stories within me,
and my mother’s, and yours—
Why do I have yours?

I have someone else’s anger, a tragedy from another place in time
Where I wasn’t, where I’ll never be – except in the future of their past
that is already a memory
Numberless faces read out their stories and not one I could tell not to
Like I could not tell you

“I don’t want your stories!” I scream now when it’s too late—
Waking up from a dream, and sleeping into another
Why do I still find you near?

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2017, By the roaring waves!, Poems and poetry, Proses

Spots of No light

Everything is fine. Outwardly. Where out is the edge of earth I’m standing on; inside me is a lava. It’s ready to erupt but wouldn’t—you’d think my body is brave enough to hold it but really, it’s the sight of uncountable blisters already on my skin that quiet it.

Before me lie fields and fields of night.

I can’t make sense of it, but sometimes I run, telling myself it’s still some direction even if I don’t know it. Alas, I find myself back where I started, my struggle wasted on dark space, and my already tired limbs.

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2017, Poems and poetry

all our issues and one

Sometimes,
When I should be elsewhere
Inside Dreams,
I lay awake instead, and
Assemble a questionnaire in my mind:
Everything that I have now yearned too long to ask you, I would;
“This is going to be a very, very honest conversation,” I will say.
It’s our final friendly law.
A sudden surge of happiness like a reflection of seven colors on my sooted heart—
If you call me again I might at least find my name
And as we’re talking, I will ask— no harsh feelings, hey!— but why did you think it was okay to do what you did?
How many others have you scarred the same way?
Alas! In the back of my mind the colors shift
A curtain closes
Rubbing the drama away in one swift move:
How will I know if you won’t still be lying?

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2017, Poems and poetry, Proses

♫heart·strings

Another cobalt blue sky lit by innumerable stars. Tiny, bright pockets of fairy-light. We sit just by the river, taking in the fresh scent of dewy grass, soft wind, and the feeling of our togetherness.

My feet are crossed and my heart is full. We don’t have enemies anymore – neither Time, nor the World. We are doing fine.

I stand up and step into the blue river. Your hand is in the water and you are splashing at it gently. As my feet touch its cool, smooth surface, we hear a strange music start. It’s coming from a distance but it feels so very near, so very soothing. Or was it from our hearts? I imagine stars coming closer – those tiny pockets of fairy-light falling to dance with me, and I look at you. You are smiling too.

Similar posts: Skin, Wings, Sea calls, Soulburst.
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2017, Paintings and Scribblings, Poems and poetry, Urdu musings

سوئے محبت// For still remaining

mivt_randomlyabstractجب کبھی
میں ماضی کے ان پیلے اوراق کو پلٹتی ہوں
اجڑی محبت کی کسیلی بساند آتی ہے
جیسے لاش
رکھے رکھے سڑ چکی ہو
ساتھ ہی
ایک تصویر امید کی
نظروں کے سامنے ناچنے لگتی ہے
کہ جب وہ ہچکی لے کے ٹوٹی تھی
اور محبت
ان ہی تاروں، جگنووٗں، تتلیوں اور پھولوں کے درمیان
بے دردی سے چاکی تھی
ایک جنازہ دوبارہ اٹھتا ہے
ایک ماتم پھر سے ہوتا ہے


Every time
I open
This yellow book of our lost story
A funeral takes place, again
Not of hope, for it died long ago ( and nothing pierces my heart more than my brave warrior’s last breath )
But of every moment still saved from the blots

Sometimes it plays in slow motion,
Other times, happens in a blink.
Each time though, one more piece dies
Of what is left
And how I curse this mass for still remaining.

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2016, Pakistan, Photography, Poems and poetry

I·dyl·lic

img_4786_randomlyabstract

Amidst sky hues,
Setting suns, misty blues,
Silences lapsing into eternities, infinities;
Our poetry calls us to listen.


Took this on my return route from Nathiagali, Pakistan. Got inspired by the daily post’s challenge to share it because this trip meant all sorts of magic to me.

(This week’s horizon makes me want to show it again. I feel a connection with this one.)

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2016, Poems and poetry

An Apology

Here is an apology
For each tear, every cut on your heart
And everything you feel you deserve one for
But never got.

Here is that apology which couldn’t reach you before
For your lost years, or lost months, or lost weeks
Or just lost days-in-between.
For the sound your bones make when you pull up from a non-sleep
To join another meaningless chase.
For the voice that no more chokes
On hearing, or saying, the word sorry
For your uncontrollable sobs of yesteryear
The memories of which you’ve swept under your chest
To be crushed by the burden of this same meaningless chase we know nothing about.

I cannot mend what is lost
I cannot even change what got wasted but I can hope
And I do. I hope for peace to find you and provide you with just as more strength as you need
Just more strength, as always,
Until you become your hero.
Again. Only this time more truly.

With love.

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2016, Poems and poetry

To move on

How easy
It was
For you
To move on
And fall in love
With this guy
And in his arms,
Say:
You’re home.

How easy
You say
It was for me
To move on
And fall in love
With this other guy
And call him home.

How easy
I ask
Do you think
Can it be
To fall out
Of a home
You’ve always called home
When the landlord
Of His Heart
Decides
To throw you out
And say:
It is done.

How easy
I ask
Do you think
Could it possibly be
To find
The curtains, red, of your passion
Lit by fire
That extinguishes never
Even after
You’ve sprayed
Countless bottles
Of healing water.

How far
Had we come
And how far
Are we now.
But do you see
The scars
I still have
Just about everywhere?

And right now
You stand
And ask
How easy
It was
For me to move on
It was not
Easy at all.

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2015, Poems and poetry

A Sonnet on the Starry Night.

One, two, three stars so bright
Come lay next to me, and count
Twinkling, sparkling before your sight
Tell me, what do you think of this amount?

Spurting beams of silver so fine
Soft trails they leave while playing around
Tell me how you like their shine
Or does it leave you too spellbound?

Twenty, thirty, this might never end:
We can count and count until morning calls.
Their smiles say they do well understand
There are less chances we might name all.

It might also be true they know secrets of God
And so they dance, His love they applaud.

This is the last one for the Writing 201 challenge as it finally ends today after two weeks. Our form was “sonnet” and theme “pleasure”.

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