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Asif Iqbal Mar 2021
Dearest Cecilia, you may continue
To torment my forlorn and aching heart,
On every weekday making wounds anew
For another two months ere we all part.
Winged archer's blind arrows pierced me athwart;
At every sight of you, in me your love will renew,
Though for your gold complexion I might be dirt
That you would quite surely like to eschew.
I doubt not you are heavenly stardust,
But for you my feelings thwart I must
Till I bid adieu. Till then I'll try to find
Solace and comfort in my restless mind
By listening to Bosson's discography;
By then I know not the law of Murphy.
University years
Asif Iqbal Feb 2021
In this nameless wasteland
Lay scattered signs of
Last night's jostle in bed,
Thrown away
Broken toys of civilised society,
Torn and twisted e-waste,
Discarded and broken furniture,
Smell of burnt polythene paper
In the afternoon air.

On the valley of garbage
Standing scattered a few shabby people,
Among them there is a dark skinned boy
Sitting on a heap of garbage
Holding a semi-transparent balloon.

Used condoms are
Waiting in his ***** pants' pocket
To become inflated like
The one that he holds in his hand.

The courtesan couldn't stop him
From seeing
The misery of her world;
The client wanted to have her
Without protection
And she wanted to earn
Twenty five rupees more.

Now deadly diseases are
Finding their home
In her courageous body.
Leaving behind the sins,
The father has disappeared
In the bustles of
Glittering cityscape.

Here once again
The Evening is now closing his curtains
With all his yesterday's drudgery,
Again the Sun has hidden his face behind
The shameful horizon of slums.

Near and far
The city is staying awake.
The valley of garbage is now trying
To hide it's rotting smell
With reeking perfume.
Men have started
To come in and out of
Dingy rooms of women
At measured intervals.
Asif Iqbal Feb 2021
IV
On asking, with whom she is courting,
She does say that she is being courted
By no one, in assurance comforting;
Yet she speaks, with an air convoluted,
That she has been married to five;
Indeed to her sublime veracity and wit
And bravery, and her pure soul so naive,
And her nonpareil beauty exquisite.
Her pure heart is a shining red ruby,
A diamond worthy of her may impress,
I'm unworthy, with her touch gold I'd be.
Yet upon me she showers not her grace.
Oh! I wish her the diamond worthiest
For I know she'll be then the happiest.
(University years)
Asif Iqbal Jan 2021
She loved him
That's why she kept hurting,
He didn't love her
That's why he stuck around
And kept holding thorny roses
Ignoring the cuts and bruises.


She loved him
That's why she accused him of infidelity
And he didn't love her
That's why he, like a fool,
Kept trying to prove
Against her false allegations.

She loved him
That's why she just sat at
Her home
While he wept
Out of deep longing at his
And he didn't love her
That's why he rushed to her
Leaving everything behind
Just to soothe her worries.

She loved him
That is why she never wanted to meet him
And he didn't love her
That's why he kept asking for her to meet him.

She loved him
That is why he was her "may be"
And he didn't love her
That is why she was his "one and only".

She loved him
That's why she left him
And he didn't love her
That's why he kept waiting
For her to return.
Asif Iqbal Jun 2020
You saw the light
You came
You saw the dark
You left
Nothing aches like a broken heart
Asif Iqbal Jun 2020
III
Dearest Cecilia, thou may continue
To torment my forlorn and aching heart,
On every weekday making wounds anew
For another two months ere we all part.
Winged archer's blind arrows pierced me athwart;
At every sight of thee, in me thy love will renew,
Though for thy gold complexion I might be dirt
That thou would quite surely like to eschew.
I doubt not thou art heavenly stardust,
But for thee my feelings thwart I must
Till I bid adieu. Till then I'll try to find
Solace and comfort in my restless mind
By listening to Bosson's discography;
By then I know not the law of Murphy.
University years
Asif Iqbal Jun 2020
O, buzzing bug thou came attracted
By the stone cold and white neon light
And thousands futile attempts made;
Was it not a long and unfruitful flight?

Was it for pleasure or pain thou poor being
Came crashing into that heartless thing
That thou hast become so enamoured of?

Was it painful pleasure or pleasurable pain
For which being wounded every time thereof
Thou kept rushing on to it again and again?

Art thou too blighted by the ominous love
That was destined to be doomed as written
By the crooked and dimmed star above?

Canst thou not see thy love is eyeless?
And thou art a mere pawn in a game of chess
Played by an omnipotent ****** disguised
As Fate, or Chance, or Coincidence;
Art thou too robbed of your sense
That thou hast never realised
In what foolishness or anguish
Thou conceived a death wish
And unwillingly wanted it to be fulfilled?
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