Do not die tonight
The heart that has become hollow
Is a sacred tomb you once built
Out of broken trinkets and feathers
Inside
A wild little girl sleeps
Holding a dream catcher close to her *****
For eternity
Rain that once pattered against your window
On nights to keep chaos at bay
Now watches over you
Silently
The neighbor’s dog howls at the
Psychic Catastrophe
As the moon dissolves into the ocean waves
Be gentle with your pain Child
She says
Know that yanking out a dozen hair strands
Will not erase ‘self-hate’
Do not stare into a mirror tonight
What you see is not You anymore
Vacant eyes and creaking bones
Your body is now home to another host
A piercing wail echoes through the night sky
And splits the city air
The broken glass on the bathroom floor
Glints like a Sailor’s forgotten treasure
Swimming over the vast red sea, kindling with its own symphony
–Afia Qamar
Dec 12, 2019
Dec 12, 2019 at 1:49 AM UTC
The melodies I hear are filling the void
And the golden stardust is slipping in my veins
What secrets you hold, Oh mighty being?
Your valleys are green and the air serene
So i listen more
The cluster of trees is whispering to me
Fly, fly you jester
Your hour is near now wake up
Go no more into the wheels and machines
Let alone the heels and soar through the winds.
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 1:08 PM UTC
I sprinkled sunflower petals in the warm water,
to make it gold.
Then dipped my body quietly in the bathtub,
to wash my tainted soul.
The morning light peeked through the lemon coloured glass,
while the fading fate dissolved in the pearly waves of my lash.
My lifted hand reached for the sunlight,
the feeble fingers swayed like dandelions.
A swollen gaze perched on the broken mirror,
a burning sensation impregnated my chafed lips; turning them bitter.
The beauty they preach about is not divine,
nothing in this world stays sublime.
The saffron tinted ancient walls,
kissed the amber tiled floor
Everything fire; everything gold,
yet no power can assuage the murkiness of my soul.
My dear Van Gogh how could you think?
that the yellow, if you eat, will lift your spirits?
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
I am dying.
With the crimson gentle stroll,
of the parched winter glow.
I am dying.
Of the thorns dwelling within the whisper's den,
and the menacing spikes of my broken pen.
I am dying.
From the agonizing tempest that pervaded my soul,
it is no more a riddle; an Apocalypse is born.
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 5:23 PM UTC
I'm sorry
If I woke you up last night
My pen told me secrets in whispers
And I carved scars and tales
Of silly incantations and
old fallen trees
Of silver days in summer breeze
and tattered amber sundresses
Of apple bites and ripe grapes
near the broken glass on the carpet; they decayed
Ashes danced on my lips; sculpting poems on my skin
and flicking cigarette on my wounds
Smudged mascara and dulcet memories
Leather fabricated journals of vintage times
hiding crisp carcasses of yellow daises
Euphonious chortles and
early morning smiles
Forgotten tea leaves in the teapot
and ginger bread turning cold
Sun rays, like gold dust, sparkling in the air
Through the tall trees of a forest
hanging on the clouds in despair
First day of Spring, magical it is
like a caterpillar's fate
Silky cocoon, shiny chrysalis,
emerging out as a butterfly
Leaving as old and embracing the new
Igniting the sky over my purple roof
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 6:07 AM UTC
Last night, I wrote poems on my skin and hid the scars.
Carved some stories and spilled ink.
A beautiful mess killed a life within.
Don't give me up that fast.
I may not be worthy of holding your hand.
Rose water and holy smiles,
I'll learn to keep your world bright.
Don't throw the flowers away.
I like to keep them for my sake.
No, I understand.
Little people sleep in sand.
Why are the voices loud?
Can I say what my heart desires?
I can't breathe, will you bury me in white?
Oh! You can't hear me.
The clock ticked, you have a meeting.
Adieu my friend, I shall be leaving.
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 5:14 PM UTC
Little famished people left after they were born
A tiny old place can no longer be their home
Little acquisitive people travel to the cities
Soon their greed seize their courtesy
Little naive people disguise so well.
“Let us add a white shade to our scarlet blood.”
Little grey people complain about the world
A tear or two should ‘justify' their ‘love'
Little learned people fight for human rights
Dazzling crystal goblets clink on every ‘I'
Little erudite people cherish old tombs
But they forget the life spent in the womb
Little fading people live no life
Hence they regret as they retire
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 4:42 PM UTC
A shaft from the golden sun,
reclined peacefully in my lap.
The amber gleam reflected back,
and gently baked the solemn land.
An ardent whisper furnished the woods
with a viridescent scent that woke up the woods.
Silver songs of sleek streams,
chased the lullabies away;
gently.
Ancient tress cuddled the wind,
their leaves clapped in sheer bliss
The broken winged white eyed bulbul,
warbled hymns to lift the curse.
Scarlet tainted vintage letters resting in the rustic mailbox,
await your tender touch; while they chant for a past long gone.
But lily livered clouds,
they have turned your courage into a yellow illusion.
So now defy the toxic words and the errors you made,
A different person inside your skin, long ago, burned our hearts on the hateful flames.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 6:44 PM UTC
A fierce growl shattered the vampire's coffin
The wood cracks and the monster is awake
Hurry! Dig a pit for the creature to hide
Burn it before the sunrise
Oh do not let the world encounter this chaos
No one should see the vile mien
of a ferocious blood ******* entity
That thrusts its teeth deep into the delicate skin
and schemes for barbaric damages.
Look!
The naive creature stands with utter dainty
A revolting smirk sleeps on its face
Pale skin and a bloodshot gaze
An evil snicker revealed the fangs
See how the eyes move with hostility
Like a venom injected in the name of brutality
Sharp nails and clenched fists
Searching for a throat to slit.
The air now breathes a vengeful sigh
Like a wild beast craves to die
Dark shadows lurk behind the curtains
Silent whispers yodel about a burden
The creature stone eyed, stares back
I breathe quietly under the horrid impact
There!
It is coming my way
I can feel the intruding fear of a feeble prey in my veins
Finally, as if the monster made its mind
It opened the mouth in a solemn cry
A shrill voice so piercing, it shattered my facade
I fell on the ground like a broken glass
It was no monster or a Dracula that howled
Ah yes, my own reflection scared my soul
Years of self hate and agony prevailed
And I have been ******* on my veins in despair
My corrupt heart no longer beats
Darkness dwells in its core; so deep
Now watch the results of constant infight
I am nothing more than a mere parasite
A ray of sun touching me toes,
The toxic memories fading with the tick tock
Once again, I repair my coffin
And slither into a sound slumber on the symphony
Of a robin.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 1:31 PM UTC
There is no substitute for healing,
than to bloom in your own fire.
To climb wound by wound
on your bruised fervour,
is far better than growing wild.
Do not despise your reflection,
the shadows can lie.
You turn stones into petals,
this art is sublime.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC