Fluttering by
Quivering by
Oscillating their coloured wings
The delicate butterflies of my poems
From one thought to the other
On the branch of words
Come, pause, rest, and fly away
A moment here
A moment there
And then who knows where
And in their pursuit, with every breath
From one motif to the next
From one night to the other
I run around, armed with the net of imagination
So that I may touch them
With the softness of the caress, my fingers
Tremblingly
Reach their tips....
They disperse their iridescence
On my hands
And instantaneously
Fly away some where else...  

Poem and translation: ©️Arshia.

عین یہ شیشے کی نگری، نقص گننا چھوڑ دے !
جو دِکھیں اوروں میں ہوں نہ خود تمہارے دیکھنا

Aein, this is a house of mirrors, stop counting who is defected
Flaws you see in others, may just be your own, reflected!

Urdu couplet and translation, ©️Arshia
#mytranslation.

This is what love does....
It makes you see
the resolve behind the result
the drudge behind the demeanor
the struggle behind the strength
and to what all the ache amounts.
This is what love does
It makes you aware
right there
where it counts.
A.
9.9.18

ملا تو پھر نہ رہے گا جوازِ شکوہ گری
جو مانگنا ہو تو یہ حوصلہ ضروری ہے

If you get it, you will have no justification of complaint
When asking for something, this fortitude must be ascertained

Couplet and translation ©️Arshia

I’m feeling beautiful today.

Is it because
of this dress of velvet
like molten sapphire
against my skin
or the shimmering gold
a finest thread
lining my silhouette
in a filigree thin
Is it the mascara line
curving out
and making my lashes
flutter and sway
or the tint of pink
in a creamy blush
that on my cheeks
has come to stay
is it the curl in my lips
a contrived pout
or the click of my heels
on the floor it clouts
the bangles on my wrist
that sing as they jingle
the sparkling earlobes
as the earrings ******
is it the perfumed rose
that blooms in my scent
or the coiffured scarf
a colored accent
is it the swing in my gait
or my elusive trait
it is my voice, my gaze
or how, when i talk
my pupils dilate….

I feel beautiful today,
but i do not know why
i have thought all day
and now dark draws nigh
I feel beautiful today
so I should enjoy….

Arshia
Oct 5, 2014

Poetry is the stray puppy
That I offered a drink
And then it wouldn’t leave my heel
Following me wherever I went
Till I was spent trying to shoo it away
Imagine my dismay
Every time I threw a stick , in the hope I would lose it,
It would bring back two
And leave them by my feet
Like sacred offerings
Its big puppy eyes imploring me to accept
Its tongue hanging
It’s tail wagging
Each oscillation an interruption
To my life....
It wouldn’t let me concentrate on what I needed to do
Till I forgot what it was that I was doing...
and in responses all I got was a happy bark, and another round of play.

Till finally one day, it didn’t come back.
My aim had improved,
I had thrown its chase track off my ability,  
it followed the futility
and was led astray.....

I had always wanted it that way!
Didn’t I?
So why, now that all of my heart was mine
I was somehow, un-fine
Something, something, that I could not define!
Now I looked for the puppy
All all paths I knew
In all directions I could see
In all dimensions I could be,
Till I finally found it,
Hiding, whimpering, scared, in me.

Poetry for me, was the unwelcome guest
That taught me we don’t always get to  chose
Sometimes we are chosen.

A.
4.9.18

High rise buildings don’t shed leaves.
And the trees are too far below to be seen.
‘Fall’ carries a different context in concrete
With gravity at play, its threatens to be mean....

There are pockets where nature is trimmed to size
And planted to add value to unreal estate
I should miss the mess, the sights and the eyes
And instead I watch my senses acclimate.

A pumpkin cinnamon latte, in Starbucks terms
Offers cultured aspirants a slice of respite
I am not ungrateful, but I can still reminisce
Not because of my earnestness but despite....

Memory of colours, orchestrates fall
A cacophony of wistfulness without a plot
I can’t even pretend it is autumn in my mind,
When the artifice around me is still so hot.

©️Arshia
6.10.18
#afutureisticpoem
#ifclimatechangecontinues