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AditiKo 22h
Sometimes I take a little stroll
Through the minds and verses
Of others.

Mind strolling through
Vivid colours and memories,
Flowers and fantasies.

I walk across the lines, my feet tapping
To the rhythm and rhyme;
Iambic heart beats with mine

I stop by sometimes, by the meadows
With a ballad, sonnet,
Free verse or couplet.

Just reading through some poems.
Poems bloom as flowers; azure, flushed pink. Watered by the poet's tears.
Fheyra 6d
Merry, merry— thou filled a hummingbird's tone
Funny, funny— how sottish thy head on stone.

Amazed by blue lights, I swoon and stretch my arms
Looking back, my cottons on grass— ditched my charms.

To assume a side of a well-known— she greets
Received in one sight,— slowly, she falsely meets.
Awkward times can be weird and funny.
The third couplet(stanza) is the one that I experienced. Just imagine the awkwardness when you greet someone you thought you knew, inside a vehicle, that would really cause a blush in a shy thought.
You can all share your awkward moments, if you want😅
Fheyra 7d
An expedition from confined hoards,
That retreat pens— to get off the boards.
Retreat for a while, when everything seems tight..
whiskerbeard May 16
Red
Red is everywhere
It is here, it is there
I see the colour red in my head
In shows on TV...
In my dreams, in flowers,
thinking about you for hours.

I try to push my thoughts are elsewhere,
Yet I hear a song of redhair and black leather,
A giggle warmer than any summer weather...
A glow so bright, Red cheeks blush red.
F*ck, I think I'm in over my head.

I have never been so scared,
I have never been so at peace.
Each time I'm reminded of Red, I feel dread...
Each time I'm reminded of Red, I think Red's a masterpiece.

But,
Not because she's beautiful,
Not because she's gorgeous,
Not because Red's adorable,
Not because Red's cute,

I'm not allowed to call Red Beautiful,
I'm not allowed to call Red gorgeous,
I'm not allowed to call her adorable,
I'm not allowed to call you cute,

You've stripped me of the colour Red,
Filling my thoughts with smiles and dread.

Although one other colour looks good on you.
And that's green, and well, white.
Such a delight...
Well it's a little cheating, saying two.
Or was it green and cream...
All I can say, you in that dress,
A smile on my face it did press...
You're out of a dream...
A Disney Princess supreme!

Please Red...
Don't tell me this is all in my head?
I didn't even mention her eyes, god she has eyes dark as an abyss
Yet soulful like the ocean
What Happened to Them?
by Nasir Kazmi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Those who came ashore, what happened to them?
Those who sailed away, what happened to them?

Those who were coming at dawn, when dawn never arrived ...
Those caravans en route, what happened to them?

Those I awaited each night on moonless paths,
Who were meant to light beacons, what happened to them?

Who are these strangers surrounding me now?
All my lost friends and allies, what happened to them?

Those who built these blazing buildings, what happened to them?
Those who were meant to uplift us, what happened to them?

NOTE: This poignant poem was written about the 1947 partition of India into two nations: India and Pakistan. I take the following poem to be about the aftermath of the division.

Climate Change
by Nasir Kazmi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The songs of our silenced lips are different.
The expressions of our regretful hearts are different.

In milder climes our grief was more tolerable,
But the burdens we bear today are different.

O, walkers of awareness's road, keep your watch!
The obstacles strewn on this stony path are different.

We neither fear separation, nor desire union;
The anxieties of my rebellious heart are different.

In the first leaf-fall only flowers fluttered from twigs;
This year the omens of autumn are different.

This world lacks the depth to understand my heartache;
Please endow me with melodies, for my cry is different!

One disconcerting glance bared my being;
Now in barren fields my visions are different.

No more troops, nor flags. Neither money, nor fame.
The marks of the monarchs on this land are different.

Men are not martyred for their beloveds these days.
The youths of my youth were so very different!

Nasir Kazmi Couplets

When I was a child learning to write
my first scribblings were your name.
―Nasir Kazmi, translation by Michael R. Burch

When my feet lost the path
where was your hand?
―Nasir Kazmi, translation by Michael R. Burch

Everything I found is yours;
everything I lost is also yours.
―Nasir Kazmi, translation by Michael R. Burch

Syed Nasir Raza Kazmi (1925-1972) was a renowned Urdu poet and playwright. His poetry continues to be used in Pakistan Television (PTV) shows and in Indian Bollywood films. Keywords/Tags: Nazir Kazmi, Urdu, translation, ghazal, couplet, love, pain, grief, melancholy
The Eager Traveler
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Even in the torture chamber, I was the lucky one;
When each lottery was over, unaccountably I had won.

And even the mightiest rivers found accessible refuge in me;
Though I was called an arid desert, I turned out to be the sea.

And how sweetly I remember you, oh, my wild, delectable love—
Like the purest white blossoms, on talented branches above.

And while I’m half-convinced that folks adore me in this town,
Still, all the hands I kissed held knives and tried to shake me down.

You lost the battle, my coward friend, my craven enemy,
When, to victimize my lonely soul, you sent a despoiling army.

Lost in the wastelands of vast love, I was an eager traveler,
Like a breeze in search of your fragrance, a vagabond explorer.

Published in the anthology Eastern Promise

###

I Cannot Remember
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

I once was a poet too (you gave life to my words), but now I cannot remember
Since I have forgotten you (my love!), my art too I cannot remember

Yesterday consulting my heart, I learned
that your hair, lips, mouth, I cannot remember

In the city of the intellect insanity is silence
But now your sweet, spontaneous voice, its fluidity, I cannot remember

Once I was unfamiliar with wrecking ***** and ruins
But now the cultivation of gardens, I cannot remember

Now everyone shops at the store selling arrows and quivers
But neglects his own body, the client he cannot remember

Since time has brought me to a desert of such arid forgetfulness
Even your name may perish; I cannot remember

In this narrow state of being, lacking a country,
even the abandonment of my fellow countrymen, I cannot remember

Published in the anthology Eastern Promise

###

Come  
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Come, even with anguish, even to torture my heart;
Come, even if only to abandon me to torment again.

Come, if not for our past commerce,
Then to faithfully fulfill the ancient barbaric rituals.

Who else can recite the reasons for our separation?
Come, despite your reluctance, to continue the litanies, the ceremony.

Respect, even if only a little, the depth of my love for you;
Come, someday, to offer me consolation as well.

Too long you have deprived me of the pathos of longing;
Come again, my love, if only to make me weep.

Till now, my heart still suffers some slight expectation;
So come, ***** out even the last flickering torch of hope!

###

Ahmad Faraz [1931-2008], born Syed Ahmad Shah, was a Pakistani poet generally considered to be one of the greatest modern Urdu poets. Faraz was a poet accessible to ordinary readers due to his “fine but simple style of writing.” Ethnically a Hindkowan, he studied Persian and Urdu at Edwards College, then at Peshawar University, where he became a lecturer after receiving his Masters. During his time in college, Faiz Ahmad Faiz and Ali Sardar Jafri impressed him and became influences on his own work. Faraz was born in Kohat, Pakistan to Syed Muhammad Shah Barq. In an interview he recalled how his father once bought clothes for him and his brother on Eid. He didn't like the clothes meant for him, preferring the ones given to his elder brother. This lead him to write his first couplet:

Laye hain sab ke liye kapre sale se (He brought clothes for everybody from the sale)
Laye hain hamare liye kambal jail se (For me he brought a blanket from jail)

Faraz was an outspoken critic of Pakistan’s military dictatorship, saying, “My conscience will not forgive me if I remain a silent spectator of the sad happenings around us. The least I can do is to let the dictatorship know where it stands in the eyes of the concerned citizens whose fundamental rights have been usurped. I ... refuse to associate myself in any way with the regime ..."

Keywords/Tags: Ahmad Faraz, Pakistani, Urdu, Persian, translation, couplet, eager, traveler, love
Bard Apr 24
There's romance in a bottle of wine
Its rotten and dry but its divine
Mark Toney Apr 19
Are you desperate to be right all of the time?
How much better at day's end to be found kind!


© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.

"Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see." ~Mark Twain
4/18/2020 - Poetry form: Couplet - "Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see." ~Mark Twain - © 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Harrison W Apr 15
In Quarantine We Trust
There will be annihilation
In Quarantine We Trust
It will end in jubilation

In Quarantine We Trust
An awakening of the soul
In Quarantine We Trust
Dirt for this empty hole

In Quarantine We Trust
Compassion for the spiteful
In Quarantine We Trust
Humility for the prideful

In Quarantine We Trust
That there will be healing
In Quarantine We Trust
For the tears of families kneeling

In Quarantine We Trust
First Procedural Sense
In Quarantine We Trust
Next Misplaced Reverence

In Quarantine We Trust
Dominion of material
In Quarantine We Trust
Elimination of ethereal

In Quarantine We Trust
There will not be new beginning
In Quarantine We Trust
The world will keep on sinning

In Quarantine We Trust
Unattainable height
In Quarantine We Trust
Fingertips missing Light

In Quarantine We Trust
The Essence will be rust
In Quarantine We Trust
Until we change our Trust
When a good thing comes your way
Your foes will turn to watch the rain
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