perhaps it's because i can't draw that i write.
if i can persuade someone to create the image in their own head,
am i still the artist?

*(e.f.)

I Dodged a bullet but got hit by a train.

tell me how not to want you
(i need you to say it)
teacher; teacher
(woman) I'm writing you down

this woman is not mine
"she's not mine" - I've cried this a billion times

she is mine though
she's my morning; my mind before coffee
my night, bedtime, my dreams
she haunts me
she is light
she's alright with it, because i won't say it
she's okay with it & I'll never say it

stone ribs turned to glass
my heart had wings before this
now it wants to lay down
somewhere beside you where time doesn't move
& we're the only ones moving
I want to move inside of you
slowly
the way music does or good news
i want you to miss my hands
& I want to sip from yours

I want to kiss you everywhere water pushes when you swim, or bathe

& someday
                      someday I'll catch your bottom lip
     between my teeth & keep you there

*now teach me how to keep you

As you left me standing in the cold,
I started thinking about memories old.
They... Once made of gold
Now hold...
No value in my heart.
You have taken my heart apart.

I am but left...
To scramble for scattered remnants.
A vessel bereft,
Of its erstwhile tenants...

On my knees...
Picking up pieces with sombre gait.
Mind only sees...
An fallen dance with the ghosts of late.

As I begin with a clean slate,
I can't imagine so much hate.
For someone who I loved...
I try and push your memory away
But in the effort I sway.
It is too much to bear...
I'd give anything to hear...
Another I love you,
From you.
What happened when we were together
Our bond...
Was supposed to last forever,
But now it's just an echo of memories fond.

These young initial steps that I take...
Will eventually hasten in pace.
Leaving behind the scars that ache,
And embrace the new breeze that cradles my face.


Vardaan Nayar
**ryn

I recently got reminded... Oh how I am caught
In a delicate web of disillusions
Make me see what is actually not
Make invisible my heart's secret questions

Been successful in putting aside all grief
But truth has it's way to make you pay
You can bury all grievances; you can mask all disbelief
But it'll all catch up; these things you've kept at bay

Make your silly compromises
To have the the best you just make allowances
Keep up your futile pretences
Accommodate your selfish preferences

Day had dawned where each question need their answer
Questions I've shrugged and left unaddressed
Indistinguishable when fact and fiction begin to blur
When dreams and reality have coalesced

Tonight I lay with the load I bring
Body asleep with my heart fully awake
Blessing or curse, this rude awakening
Decisions and choices left for the following suns to make

/
Many days
I do not read any newspaper
Even do not see television
At all
Many days have gone
After You
I do not read any poetry

How to feel that since this morning!
Repeatedly hear identifying tunes on the air

Your arrival in the sky,
The air reverberates
Looks like another day
In the Paradise,
In another song,
Which brings the soul
The Aroma

Everyone is coming out
From all sides
Young Old
Babies Boys
Women Men
Everyone
Everyone is clapping
Singing the song of the same tune
This song is not the song of Rain
Not even a lamentation

The Southern breeze whispering your words
Slowly Said,
The Little Tailor Bird
No, No,
Not such a summer afternoon
Not even a hurricane warning

Each of the human eye
Follow the Eastern Sky  
Tireless Eye
Watching the sun,
The Red Sun,
You went to bring dreams for us
From the Sun

Hundreds of thousands of people
In his next question
Hand with Flower
Shoulder to Shoulder
Today will be the day of strangers,
The poet will come
We are standing in the flowers
Fist full of dreams to take

Float in the sky with white clouds
My dreams are calling again
Today is not such an Autumn
But Still feel like an Autumn
Indeed,  
The poet will come,
A poem in the New

Where each word will be spoken dream
Love to be evacuated
Poems that will repay
The debt to my Ancestor
Take revenge on thee
For their injustice,
Torture
Poems that would bring the stars
For our next generation
A poem that would bring the red rose for my darling,
Would bring such a smile to my mother's face
As Moon that smile
And that is simply killed false dreams
Will we ever Released
Sing Freedom Songs

The Poet,
My beloved Poet
You will come,
Will surely come
And will recite your immortal poem
/

@ Musfiq us shaleheen

.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...