Friday, September 17, 2010

The Bird in My Window

Perching from branch to branch –
The bird flaps her wings
‘Companion’ – she looks for

Staring at me in my window
Pondering over some thoughts
O Bird! My call – what your eyes look for?

My eyes look for a friend – a hand, a shoulder, that who favors me in distress
Her words familiar, when I listen – like I have heard them before

My soul, my heart, my mind – it is my every part speaking out these words
I tell the bird, your search is over – let me be your friend
Your only companion through the dark paths and
Your only ear when you speak your heart

Nature transforms me into a flying creature and I fly away with my friend
To a world that was unknown to me but now feels like my very home
True they say when they say that peace dwells in love and friendship

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

The Cruel Sun


Leaves lose their crispness
Birds go home
Still walking on the forlorn track,
I keep looking back and forth
Birds’ song – too distant
Shade of the trees – away!
Under my shadow, I refuge from the cruel sun
Treading fast, I keep walking to run.

Sun chasing me
Following me, to look into my weak eyes
Eluding, I strive as it is strong

Trees – not thick enough and the sun blazes with all its might

My fault or that of the power after me?
Leaving vacuum - the unanswered question slows my pace.

I still keep moving and the sun keeps following
Its cold, but no wish to beek in the cruel sun -
I fear to burn!

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Happy Birthday, Pakistan


Happy birthday, Pakistan - So you turned 63 today
The sound of the roars and the happy crowd is fresh in my mind as yesterday

They wreath my grave and they walk arrogantly on your soil,
What good does it do; isn’t it better to toil?

You have seen men in khaki and men on the dice
Who came to help you rise?

They want to busticate your body and gnaw at the pieces
Do I call them well-wishers or vultures in disguises?

Your old body palsies and your rivers flood
With water and with blood

Throughout these years you have seen waves and tides
Not your offspring, but some parasites have taken rides

I see chaos and pain that clenches your every arm and finger
Is it for the danger of the behemoth or the snakes?

What I see today is what I saw before your birth
Save the missing voice and the guiding hand
Oh mother of these!
Bring the same zeal again, for you are the only head they own.
Be a Phoenix – Rise again!

Notes: May Allah give us strength to rise again! Amen

Friday, July 30, 2010

The Wailing Lover


No pean the wailing lover sings of him or his love;
No poem he writes on the joyous dove.
Its the jeremiad in which he gains some relief;
He wishes to express his grief.
He sojourned in her heart like a rose in the spring garden; and sought the pleasures of being loved like a fresh sardine.
No one to give solace,
Not even a moment of grace.
He takes solitary steps to the lonely path;
Before he is given the holy bath.
The somatic love ended in the blink of an eye and now he stands with the mead thinking of his jejune creed.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

I still stand there


I still stand there where you left me;
Holding the burnt ashes, those now lie in tiny fragments in the middle of my fingers

I still stand there with bare feet, under the sheet of dry autumn leaves
The sound of the crunching leaves, still fresh in my ears
The moment of your departure is marked by the silence in the air and I stand dead…still!

The rain drizzles from the light clouds and I take refuge for my tears
The weeping of the heart is still the same,
That of the eyes has somewhat dimmed.

Youth went in the pleasure of your faithfulness and the days to come will go by in the sweet memories
Then what is it that I search in this floral tapestry?

The wind touches my feet and the leaves crawl down beneath,
The sighs of the wind are in harmony to the sighs I have within
It is a magic or nature
A miracle or my belief
That you have long gone but I find you standing there...STILL!!

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

HEALER


The sudden appearance of spring overtakes the long aching winter,
dry, cold and lifeless leaves become fresh,
offering life to colorful flowers and the green meadows.
Dark, gloomy clouds depart and move to distant lands;
and sun, takes its place in its own rink.
Sky looks neat and bright,
no more signs of the frozen pain.
Why has the world turned so miraculously beautiful,
is what I am reckoning over.
Chanting of the prayers helped,
or is it fate and time?
My healer has bestowed me a thorn-less life and
now I am embraced by the joys of spring,
prophesying me the arrival of eternal summer;
the dancing summer and the summer of fulfilled promises.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

My Burdened Existence



It is still lingering in my mind - the shadow of my past,
Perishing me and my existence in to a deep chasm.
In every moment of the present, I feel the chasing of those footsteps-
Haunting my dreams and my imaginations.
It creeps to hold me back, to freeze the old clock.
I try to escape and I try to run,
by wading my way through the snow,
only makes my foot entangle in it more.
Screams of my inner voices,
instigate me to listen harder,
my senses go numb and there I wait at the starting point again.
How long will I hold this coldness?
What else I have to give up for it?
Do I have anyone to question, when my own soul is missing to answer?
-Hiding in the dark shadows from my own existence-
My burdened existence,
My incomplete self,
rests heavy on my heart and soul,
And there lies no place here, where I can find peace.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

A Woman, A Woman...Its All She Can Be



I wrote this poem when I was in the twelfth grade. I wrote it for a poetry competition held by the Aurat Foundation, it had won me the third prize. I am posting it in its original form, have not edited it now, although I see many flaws and errors. This time is the best, I thought, to have it here as its the World's Women's Day.

A passion, a love, a fire, a heaven;
a woman, a woman, its all she can be.

She stays awake to make her child sleep;
she stays hungry to let her child eat.
she cares, she weeps, she gives all that her child needs,
the one to whom we all turn is a mother,a mother.

An angel, an eagle, an enthusiasm, an ocean;
a woman, a woman, its all she can be.

She stands beside her husband no matter what the time be,
she sacrifices her needs so her husband does not weep.
she loves, she compromises her desires and fulfills her husbands every small wish.
the one who can always counted on by a husband,is a wife, a wife.

A kite, a flower, a raindrop, a sea;
a woman, a woman, its all she can be.

She cries with her parents, she laughs with her parents,
she lets go even her lover for the sake of her parents.
she adores, she admires and she is the reason for her parent's pride,
on whom all the parents can rely on, is a daughter, a daughter.

A trust, a friend, a star, a wind;
a woman, a woman, its all she can be.

She shares, she keeps all the secrets that she hears;
she gives confidence and can become a source of inspiration,
she rejoices with all your joys and suffers all your pains,
to whom we can talk whenever we are lonely,for a brother, is always a sister, a sister.

She makes us all proud,
and instigates me to say this aloud,
I AM A WOMAN
I AM A WOMAN
I AM PROUD TO BE A WOMAN.

Saturday, January 30, 2010


Memory of a scattered dream, or a sad face
That of a tear of an eye, or a tragic phase

May be of a lost word, or never ending obsession
Or a love of my life, or a regret of my existence

I know not, but something lacks in my resurrection
So I fall deep in the ocean of my non-existence

Is it a light wind or a gale?
Is it charity of feelings or emotions for sale?

Depth of an ocean or height of a sky
A question of who and a query of why

An open aggression, a hidden betrayal
I know not but something causes me to fail

I am lost and so is my verse
I don’t know what I wrote until you point out from the source

It seems I am ire and completely lost
That one thing now I hold, the other moment it is sold

Lost with the sight or with the rhythm of my poem
I understand not the words that I coin.

Is it by chance or an act of my conscience?
So here I stand incomplete & senseless

I am lost and so is my soul.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

The Midnight Lamp

The midnight lamp kept burning silently
its quiet fire narrated some tales

Unattended, were some of them...still
thus ignored went this burning sacrifice to them

The lamp held in it thousands of stories
and it kept talking to only a few

Then came the gush of wind from nowhere
And there it stood all burnt

The midlight lamp was no more
but the brightness was more than it ever bore

Sunday, January 17, 2010

REGRETS and REMORSE...the tale of a regretful soul!!!


...Putting aside all his regrets and remorse,
He stepped in silent pace to the city of peace,
Leaning side by side is his gone-by past,
Filled with tears is his heart.

Uncommon thoughts remind him of thee,
Some silent steps; also brought by the scene, windy!

Lying close in his arms when her eyes shone,
arms that no more hold him as mine,
is now the regret he will always own.

Lets throw away the memories in the stream;
are the words he speaks to his soul.
'These are the words you always speak',
bursts out his lonely soul.

Getting ashamed of his own cowardice,
He hides his face in a dark disguise.

Life didn't turn out, the way he expected,
Everything he did, he regretted,
Be it to him or to anyone subjected.

He had a dream,
But what did he do to get it?



Still..He must go on as he should,
The sun rose and there he stood,
Might I find peace somewhere close,
Lets ignore this present remorse.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

THE BEAUTY AND THE BEE

Beauty, was as if caged in it,
its grace and fragrance like the towered
pride of the garden.
Sick Rose,
Fell in love with the bee!
How cruel can love be lets see.

The beauty awaited long for its return,
the bee, being late as too much absorbed in its fun.

Whole night the bee would wait in the hope,
just for an instant the bee would appear to go.

That moment of oneness was enough,
as the beauty lived only for that alone.

Then one day when Eros was being kind,
the bee realized how unkind it had been;
too lost in the fake world of others,
lost completely in the charming world of hemlock drinkers...
What it had done!

Ah! The beauty that waited long for its return,
no more waited now,
not because the beauty changed its love,
but the nature had been unkind again all and above.

And this time the beauty was dead,
The bee was late and the beauty was dead.

Contributors

My photo
Everyone needs a place in their life where they can go to escape the demands of family and work, enjoy some adult time and be free from the daily grind. Psychologists call it ‘the third space’ because most people spend the majority of their lives in two places – home and work. A third space provides a haven from these places of responsibility, where we can chill out and indulge our leisure interests. For me, my third space is my blog. It is without doubt the most important part of my world.

Somewhere faraway; As I sit to feel the silence, My thoughts are carried away by THE WHISPERS OF MY HEART!!

Friday, September 17, 2010

The Bird in My Window

Perching from branch to branch –
The bird flaps her wings
‘Companion’ – she looks for

Staring at me in my window
Pondering over some thoughts
O Bird! My call – what your eyes look for?

My eyes look for a friend – a hand, a shoulder, that who favors me in distress
Her words familiar, when I listen – like I have heard them before

My soul, my heart, my mind – it is my every part speaking out these words
I tell the bird, your search is over – let me be your friend
Your only companion through the dark paths and
Your only ear when you speak your heart

Nature transforms me into a flying creature and I fly away with my friend
To a world that was unknown to me but now feels like my very home
True they say when they say that peace dwells in love and friendship

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

The Cruel Sun


Leaves lose their crispness
Birds go home
Still walking on the forlorn track,
I keep looking back and forth
Birds’ song – too distant
Shade of the trees – away!
Under my shadow, I refuge from the cruel sun
Treading fast, I keep walking to run.

Sun chasing me
Following me, to look into my weak eyes
Eluding, I strive as it is strong

Trees – not thick enough and the sun blazes with all its might

My fault or that of the power after me?
Leaving vacuum - the unanswered question slows my pace.

I still keep moving and the sun keeps following
Its cold, but no wish to beek in the cruel sun -
I fear to burn!

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Happy Birthday, Pakistan


Happy birthday, Pakistan - So you turned 63 today
The sound of the roars and the happy crowd is fresh in my mind as yesterday

They wreath my grave and they walk arrogantly on your soil,
What good does it do; isn’t it better to toil?

You have seen men in khaki and men on the dice
Who came to help you rise?

They want to busticate your body and gnaw at the pieces
Do I call them well-wishers or vultures in disguises?

Your old body palsies and your rivers flood
With water and with blood

Throughout these years you have seen waves and tides
Not your offspring, but some parasites have taken rides

I see chaos and pain that clenches your every arm and finger
Is it for the danger of the behemoth or the snakes?

What I see today is what I saw before your birth
Save the missing voice and the guiding hand
Oh mother of these!
Bring the same zeal again, for you are the only head they own.
Be a Phoenix – Rise again!

Notes: May Allah give us strength to rise again! Amen

Friday, July 30, 2010

The Wailing Lover


No pean the wailing lover sings of him or his love;
No poem he writes on the joyous dove.
Its the jeremiad in which he gains some relief;
He wishes to express his grief.
He sojourned in her heart like a rose in the spring garden; and sought the pleasures of being loved like a fresh sardine.
No one to give solace,
Not even a moment of grace.
He takes solitary steps to the lonely path;
Before he is given the holy bath.
The somatic love ended in the blink of an eye and now he stands with the mead thinking of his jejune creed.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

I still stand there


I still stand there where you left me;
Holding the burnt ashes, those now lie in tiny fragments in the middle of my fingers

I still stand there with bare feet, under the sheet of dry autumn leaves
The sound of the crunching leaves, still fresh in my ears
The moment of your departure is marked by the silence in the air and I stand dead…still!

The rain drizzles from the light clouds and I take refuge for my tears
The weeping of the heart is still the same,
That of the eyes has somewhat dimmed.

Youth went in the pleasure of your faithfulness and the days to come will go by in the sweet memories
Then what is it that I search in this floral tapestry?

The wind touches my feet and the leaves crawl down beneath,
The sighs of the wind are in harmony to the sighs I have within
It is a magic or nature
A miracle or my belief
That you have long gone but I find you standing there...STILL!!

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

HEALER


The sudden appearance of spring overtakes the long aching winter,
dry, cold and lifeless leaves become fresh,
offering life to colorful flowers and the green meadows.
Dark, gloomy clouds depart and move to distant lands;
and sun, takes its place in its own rink.
Sky looks neat and bright,
no more signs of the frozen pain.
Why has the world turned so miraculously beautiful,
is what I am reckoning over.
Chanting of the prayers helped,
or is it fate and time?
My healer has bestowed me a thorn-less life and
now I am embraced by the joys of spring,
prophesying me the arrival of eternal summer;
the dancing summer and the summer of fulfilled promises.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

My Burdened Existence



It is still lingering in my mind - the shadow of my past,
Perishing me and my existence in to a deep chasm.
In every moment of the present, I feel the chasing of those footsteps-
Haunting my dreams and my imaginations.
It creeps to hold me back, to freeze the old clock.
I try to escape and I try to run,
by wading my way through the snow,
only makes my foot entangle in it more.
Screams of my inner voices,
instigate me to listen harder,
my senses go numb and there I wait at the starting point again.
How long will I hold this coldness?
What else I have to give up for it?
Do I have anyone to question, when my own soul is missing to answer?
-Hiding in the dark shadows from my own existence-
My burdened existence,
My incomplete self,
rests heavy on my heart and soul,
And there lies no place here, where I can find peace.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

A Woman, A Woman...Its All She Can Be



I wrote this poem when I was in the twelfth grade. I wrote it for a poetry competition held by the Aurat Foundation, it had won me the third prize. I am posting it in its original form, have not edited it now, although I see many flaws and errors. This time is the best, I thought, to have it here as its the World's Women's Day.

A passion, a love, a fire, a heaven;
a woman, a woman, its all she can be.

She stays awake to make her child sleep;
she stays hungry to let her child eat.
she cares, she weeps, she gives all that her child needs,
the one to whom we all turn is a mother,a mother.

An angel, an eagle, an enthusiasm, an ocean;
a woman, a woman, its all she can be.

She stands beside her husband no matter what the time be,
she sacrifices her needs so her husband does not weep.
she loves, she compromises her desires and fulfills her husbands every small wish.
the one who can always counted on by a husband,is a wife, a wife.

A kite, a flower, a raindrop, a sea;
a woman, a woman, its all she can be.

She cries with her parents, she laughs with her parents,
she lets go even her lover for the sake of her parents.
she adores, she admires and she is the reason for her parent's pride,
on whom all the parents can rely on, is a daughter, a daughter.

A trust, a friend, a star, a wind;
a woman, a woman, its all she can be.

She shares, she keeps all the secrets that she hears;
she gives confidence and can become a source of inspiration,
she rejoices with all your joys and suffers all your pains,
to whom we can talk whenever we are lonely,for a brother, is always a sister, a sister.

She makes us all proud,
and instigates me to say this aloud,
I AM A WOMAN
I AM A WOMAN
I AM PROUD TO BE A WOMAN.

Saturday, January 30, 2010


Memory of a scattered dream, or a sad face
That of a tear of an eye, or a tragic phase

May be of a lost word, or never ending obsession
Or a love of my life, or a regret of my existence

I know not, but something lacks in my resurrection
So I fall deep in the ocean of my non-existence

Is it a light wind or a gale?
Is it charity of feelings or emotions for sale?

Depth of an ocean or height of a sky
A question of who and a query of why

An open aggression, a hidden betrayal
I know not but something causes me to fail

I am lost and so is my verse
I don’t know what I wrote until you point out from the source

It seems I am ire and completely lost
That one thing now I hold, the other moment it is sold

Lost with the sight or with the rhythm of my poem
I understand not the words that I coin.

Is it by chance or an act of my conscience?
So here I stand incomplete & senseless

I am lost and so is my soul.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

The Midnight Lamp

The midnight lamp kept burning silently
its quiet fire narrated some tales

Unattended, were some of them...still
thus ignored went this burning sacrifice to them

The lamp held in it thousands of stories
and it kept talking to only a few

Then came the gush of wind from nowhere
And there it stood all burnt

The midlight lamp was no more
but the brightness was more than it ever bore

Sunday, January 17, 2010

REGRETS and REMORSE...the tale of a regretful soul!!!


...Putting aside all his regrets and remorse,
He stepped in silent pace to the city of peace,
Leaning side by side is his gone-by past,
Filled with tears is his heart.

Uncommon thoughts remind him of thee,
Some silent steps; also brought by the scene, windy!

Lying close in his arms when her eyes shone,
arms that no more hold him as mine,
is now the regret he will always own.

Lets throw away the memories in the stream;
are the words he speaks to his soul.
'These are the words you always speak',
bursts out his lonely soul.

Getting ashamed of his own cowardice,
He hides his face in a dark disguise.

Life didn't turn out, the way he expected,
Everything he did, he regretted,
Be it to him or to anyone subjected.

He had a dream,
But what did he do to get it?



Still..He must go on as he should,
The sun rose and there he stood,
Might I find peace somewhere close,
Lets ignore this present remorse.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

THE BEAUTY AND THE BEE

Beauty, was as if caged in it,
its grace and fragrance like the towered
pride of the garden.
Sick Rose,
Fell in love with the bee!
How cruel can love be lets see.

The beauty awaited long for its return,
the bee, being late as too much absorbed in its fun.

Whole night the bee would wait in the hope,
just for an instant the bee would appear to go.

That moment of oneness was enough,
as the beauty lived only for that alone.

Then one day when Eros was being kind,
the bee realized how unkind it had been;
too lost in the fake world of others,
lost completely in the charming world of hemlock drinkers...
What it had done!

Ah! The beauty that waited long for its return,
no more waited now,
not because the beauty changed its love,
but the nature had been unkind again all and above.

And this time the beauty was dead,
The bee was late and the beauty was dead.

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