You'd find the curtains lightly dancing
to the tune of that song,
to which we'd bashfully waltzed
the first time you had held me,
You'd smell the musk
Spreading its wings in the air,
That you once said, drove you
dizzy when you were around me,
You'd find poetry singing softly
Behind the veil of silence,
Reading aloud my verses of love,
Calligraphed on the bare canvas
Of my skin, in Urdu,
Curving and turning shyly,
For you to trace with gentle fingers,
Right to left, misra to misra,
Sher to sher,
The beher of each caress
Matching the stirring of my breaths,
Culminating at its pinnacle,
Into a ghazal, your ghazal,
That would, with demure grace,
Take form and calmly embrace,
The raging fire, the desperate uproar
Lashing at my parched, starved soul.

I wonder how much sugar it'll take
To drown your bitter aftertaste

What good is love that does not last
Melts your heart and then departs
Yet peels with it, the livid pieces
That enfold but lust, in filthy creases
So seek the love of One above
Whose fire is light, that lights the dust
Thus shimmering dots of dust's your whole
Traces the line that leads you Home

what kind of death will find you?
where is your end?
your discarded dust may well seed a new star
but your spirit no one can tell you
when or where it may go

yonder is a constant
each step brings us closer

what will it be like to meet
the otherside of all this?

of this I am sure
we will recognise each other

and we will know each other
as we are known

~~
Never ignore a woman's gift
For it's the best thing she could give
Do not underestimate her offer
Never take it for granted or leave
~
She could give you a slice of cake
But she will choose to give you a whole
Her gift could be little in your eyes
But it's the total of her heart and soul
~
A woman's gift is not for the eyes
But for the spirit of those who feel
So never ignore a woman's gift
It is for you if you are real
~~

I painted my dream on my wall
and everytime I open my eyes,  
I see a star not that far away...

A woman who dies in labour,
In the pains of pre-delivery
For no reason but poor midwifery
Is a martyr and a true martyr
Than religious charlatans,
For she has only died in heroic
Defense of life and its perpetuation,
She is better than you the user
Of contraceptives in odious fit of
Family planning frivolity,
With condoms and the stuffs
Weapons of your ****** war,

She is a true martyr
To allow live sperms to meander
The valleys and fountains of life
Without dodging them shrewdly  
Through wiles of science and tech,
Sperms and ova when in a duel they are
God’s intent of life, and human lives
Alack, suffocating them is heinous
A sin as big as murderer
Or a terrorism of the Twin towers
Or a **** agent armed with gas poison,

Let them, the sperms enter the walls of life,
Minus fear of deathly virus, let them enter,
They intent to give life naturally, Godly,
And if they have Aids, then you are
A martyr who died in support of life
Against the wiles of the evil one,
You are better than him that
Masturbates to waste the *****
Of life, God’s grand purpose of
Them to be the first stations of life,
You **** them, you commit ******,
Genocide, massacre, macabre,

the sky comes down and shares my table
blue frock with yellow Sun
we sit in silence together, old friends
somewhat in love, somewhat at odds,
as all old friends we have travelled far
shared rocky road and smooth path
the sky comes down and shares my table
blue frock with yellow Sun
we sit in silence together, the stillness welding
us into one.