If I can become the wind, I will.
If I can give you wings, I will.
And then selflessly become
the wind beneath your wings.*

© Ali Qureshi

They told me to
stop thinking so
much and look at
me and what I did:
I became a poet, a writer.
A being that thrives
within its thoughts,
its imagination-
anything that its
brain can cook up
in the limitless ***
that has been given
to it. And I ponder:
I'm someone who eats
other people's words,
ingest them in my mind,
take a selective few of them
to cook a new piece using my own recipe.
And like any cook
who wants to satisfy
one's hunger, I want
to fill you up-
to the point where
you want more of it,
even though your head
is totally full
from my previous serving.

© Ali Qureshi

I don't write for you
Or for your entertainment
I just love writing.*

© Ali Qureshi

People stop appreciating
If there's too much of you
Also they forget you exist
If you take a break or two

I have made a note
of what Mr. King wrote.
He warned: “It’s best to stay away!“
Listen, to what I have to say!

It’s eating your brains!
As if a Zombie.
Listen, if your wit remains,
I’m talking about T.V.

Yes the telly, the box.
Where you catch – the fox.

                                     “It’s news to me.”
                                                            ­            “Didn’t  you hear me say-”
                                             “I’ll read about it, see?”
                                                       ­                               “Well… Okay.”

(Now her phone’s ringing)
How good if she just- read on.
Instead what she’s viewing?
‘Her pic’ someone commented on.

“Why don’t you just listen
to me”, I said.
She threw a mug, caught, taken-
but with my head.

She was out! Out of my room,
Out of my house, out of my life.
Here I hoped a flower will bloom,
I’ll propose, and she’ll be my wife.

Ah! The beauty of pain.
Thoughts of her, in the rain.
Oh! no- not again. She’s back.
All my efforts, rendered, in vain.

**© Ali Qureshi

Burning me up,
wishing for me
to vanish into
thin air.
No, that will
not happen.
I'll write
till my hand
starts to bleed
and then those
bloodied words
fall under your gaze.
You'll read and know
my love for writing.
You'll read and know
I take it seriously.
For I was, I am and
will always be
a writer.

**© Ali Qureshi

I want
to scale the mountains,
to watch the sun set on their horizons,
to hide out in dense forests,
to run away into the wild,
to be as far away as possible
from these animals
called human beings.*

© Ali Qureshi

She didn't come
I was wrong!
I was mistaken!

Hurts my pride,
Still doesn't come.
By my side,
She does not stride.
All she does
Is to hide.

Why? Oh Why?
Why you despise me?
Nothing just silence.
I plead you, tell me.

Playing with others again?
Leaving me to grovel
and be evermore restless.

My hands rip over my back
The chest seems non-existent.
I feel, I see, I hear, I think-

Stop, don't think.
Just leave her.
Let her be.
Let - her - be*
----------------------------------------------
Written by Ali Qureshi

The more I write about your beauty,
the more the words fail to describe it.

Why don’t you come to me?
Come and stay, by my side.
Stay and smile, at my side.
Smile and brighten, up my day.
Come to me and, stay you may.

Wishing on those moments.
Wondering about them, and smiling
A total fool of myself, in making
I succeed almost every day.
Now look, laughing aren’t they?

If we’re to meet, *and we do.
Yes we meet, you look into
my eyes and I into yours,
seconds turn to minutes
and minutes in to hours.

Time was ticking,
People were walking,
We weren’t dreaming,
So were contemplating,
And, thus, concluding:

*We were, supposed to be one, from the start.
You and me, now, *till death do us part.

© Ali Qureshi

I gaze, poetry.
I think, poetry.
I feel, poetry.

Tell me, oh tell me,
What is this?
What is this sorcery?

My hands are shaking;
It is overwhelming.
I keep on writing;
Hands don't know of ceasing.

Stop! I yell; within my mind.
You know they are leaving,
My words, somewhere behind.

Now they stop,
Oh now they move
Tell me, Oh tell me,
Who did this?
Who put you in a groove?

Funny is it? Yeah?
Good Good.
Take a breath.
Let it be.
*Leave me be.

It feels like I'm high,
Don't try to comprehend.

It's a vast sea, a deep ocean
It pulls you in; thoughts
They drown you!
You gasp for breath.
Wide awake, I plead:

Oh sleep! please come
I'm waiting for you
My sweet, sweet love,
Let me rest.

Let me catch my breath, and
Please, Oh! Please;
Let it be. Let it be.*

Written by Ali Qureshi
Next in the series "Insomnia - The 3rd" (part 3/4)

Everything that I write
I do not share it here
I think it's only fair
to post the ones to spare

© Ali Qureshi

Haven't slept,
saw two suns set.
Oh! the bliss,
The deep slumbers' kiss;

I'm waiting and waiting,
You snicker in the shadows,
You wicked - wicked witch!

A woman, a girl, nigh, none
There are none; I have known
To be as wicked as you;
Though they could have given
You, yes you, a good run.

I know now, now you will come
We will meet soon enough.
Let us meet. Let it be.
Come, please!
Come to me.**
------------------------------------------
Written by Ali Qureshi
Next in the series "Insomnia - Quadrant"

The more broken you're
the better a poet.
The light that seeps
from those cracks,
what color is it?
I know not!
We know not
and will not know!
Unless you pen it down
for all of us to read.

You're messed up in all your ways
just about right and that is what
makes you perfect for me. For I'm
no better or worse than other men
yet know this I am forever yours.*

© Ali Qureshi

After writing a lot of ****
I got to realize this bit

Not everything is for sharing
Not everyone deserves you caring.

With this she was not bearing
Once every fortnight she was calling

When I did see that phone ring
I just hated her, hated everything!

**© Ali Qureshi

We were different, like oil and water.
We were different, like white and black.
We were different.

We were same, like trees and grass.
We were same, like green in meadows.
We were same.

We were, you out there and me right here.
We were, in this world, meant to be together.
We were.

**© Ali Qureshi

They hear the crescendos,
All the highs and the lows,
Never do they notice
That I–
Am a soulless piece of music.

The hurt, and the dirt
On my feet and my shirt.
Never do they notice,
It ends–
Even before it all begins.

© Ali Qureshi

No you haven't read it correctly
No, I'm not the one in love

I will not fall for
such a poorly constructed
trap

No you haven't read it correctly
No, I'm not the one in love!

The beauty she holds
might just be attracting
a whole lot of people, not me

No you haven't read it correctly
No, I'm not the one in love!

A few people just fell,
couldn't keep their eyes
off of her face

No you haven't read it correctly
No, I'm not the one in love!

Ever admiring and complimenting
her looks, her glamour.
None left untouched.

No you haven't read it correctly
No, I'm not the one in love!

All I admire about a person:
the heart; the soul.
As she has it all, so

Yes you have read it correctly
Yes, I'm in love!

**© Ali Qureshi

Tired!
I yawn,
you pay
no attention–
none at all;
a day’s work
wasted.

© Ali Qureshi

For all days and nights,
May the day be hot or hazy and
The night moonless or moonlit,
**I have loved you... *always.

By discovering
who I am not
I found out
who I really am
I am the search
and the answer
I am the ups
and the downs
I am me
and you
I am less
and more
I am one
and all
I am and I am not.
I am no longer me.
No! I am,
no more.

*© Ali Qureshi

Whenever in pain you are,
comes to your mind
no one but me.
No possible way out, you're stuck,
light at the end of the tunnel
you can not see.*
So you come to me crying,
assuming that I might be dying
to have you meddling in my life
wishful thinking it is so
uselessly keep on trying.
For all your affection
and each and every emotion
I had shown appreciation
through my utter devotion
No more you're my weakness
To you I have no attachment
as I have broken through
your strong enchantment
You might be aching now
atleast not faking now
the feelings that you showed me
which were a hoax and mockery.
This might go on and on
until we both move on
So as I'm moving forward
hoping you too will be gone
from my sight.
Never want to hear
your future plights
never again
not after this fight.
Enough is enough,
I'm taking the next flight.
For I'm out of there
into the fresh air
I can breathe now
gone that flare
that burned before
between us for sure
this time *we are
not us not anymore.

Today, when we talk:
ghosts from our past
haunt our minds; our souls
shriek– ‘We are ******!’

© Ali Qureshi

If one doesn't have
the slightest idea of one's own thoughts;
why will then one care about what others
have to say?

One might just
look deep within
or look at
something far away.

One will be left
disoriented.
Lost– looking– searching–
day after day.

One will return to
that point where
one might just give up
and walk away.

So let us meet,
on the other side of the road,
where things aren't
in total disarray.

**© Ali Qureshi

Still deciding:
Was I lucky
or unlucky?
To have met you!

**© Ali Qureshi

Me, a poet;
and You, my poetry.
Poetry I love.*

© Ali Qureshi

Haters going to hate.
Failure might be your fate
But not if you fight
And get it all right.

And She left... Let's see what happens...
I wait for the moment.. when we reunite...
I may never want to face her... whatsoever...
Would She give me the honour to hear her voice..??
Would She let me gaze upon Her incomparable beauty...??
Cannot be found in anyone else...
Yes in her and nobody else....
I wait for the moment... Atlast!
When we can meet.....
But, yet, perhaps, Alas!
Parallel lines never meet...!!

Calling me crazy,
over the years;
trying to fix
which has already
been broken.
Crushed down
to million
little pieces.
Now you want more!
Shamelessly
demanding
to get back
which you never
bestowed upon
me.
I
think
I must be
mad and irrational
to think so but
I know I'm mad at you.

**© Ali Qureshi

I wait for the day
when justice will be
done.
No one
will then
hear me say:
This is not right.
This is not done.

a good writer if you ever wish to be
you'll have to practice this deed
heed my words a reader you have to be
do yourself a favor; go and read

i read and write
i feel i'm right
i read and write
you see, i write

about maybe wizards or muggles
the happiness, sorrows and pain
about life, people's struggles
i write and read then write again

i'm taking a breather
they get on my nerves as such
shouldn't write either
people who don't read as much
--------------------------------
dǝodןǝ ʍɥo pou,ʇ ɹǝɐp ɐs ɯnɔɥ
sɥonןpu,ʇ ʍɹıʇǝ ǝıʇɥǝɹ
ʇɥǝʎ ƃǝʇ ou ɯʎ uǝɹʌǝs ɐs snɔɥ
ı,ɯ ʇɐʞıuƃ ɐ qɹǝɐʇɥǝɹ

ı ʍɹıʇǝ ɐup ɹǝɐp ʇɥǝu ʍɹıʇǝ ɐƃɐıu
ɐqonʇ ןıɟǝ' dǝodןǝ,s sʇɹnƃƃןǝs
ʇɥǝ ɥɐddıuǝss' soɹɹoʍs ɐup dɐıu
ɐqonʇ ɯɐʎqǝ ʍızɐɹps oɹ ɯnƃƃןǝs

ʎon sǝǝ' ı ʍɹıʇǝ
ı ɹǝɐp ɐup ʍɹıʇǝ
ı ɟǝǝן ı,ɯ ɹıƃɥʇ
ı ɹǝɐp ɐup ʍɹıʇǝ

po ʎonɹsǝןɟ ɐ ɟɐʌoɹ؛ ƃo ɐup ɹǝɐp
ɥǝǝp ɯʎ ʍoɹps ɐ ɹǝɐpǝɹ ʎon ɥɐʌǝ ʇo qǝ
ʎon,ןן ɥɐʌǝ ʇo dɹɐɔʇıɔǝ ʇɥıs pǝǝp
ɐ ƃoop ʍɹıʇǝɹ ıɟ ʎon ǝʌǝɹ ʍısɥ ʇo qǝ

If this is reality,
I need to rediscover it.

To go over, the gyri
and, each and every sulci

Search every nook and cranny,
the crevices; if there are any

If this is it,
What is it?

It's not done.
I'm not done.

**© Ali Qureshi

These aren't just words;
they are parts of my soul.
If they mean something to you,
it brings meaning to my life and
I have bled for years now to fill
the gauntlet within your minds.
Now, I might just need—
fresh blood.

*© Ali Qureshi