standing beside the roaring waves,
was the girl with killer smile,
she had so many hopes,
rising in those angelic eyes,
she asked me,
if i wanted to buy something,
i said,"love please",
naive,i didn't know,
it will cost my eternal peace..........
-memoona kazmi

is that nothing's really real

- vm

It's sunny day but rainy in the eye
Rising smile even it's hard to try
Walking around this town and meet a big guy
He suggest me to tell a little lie
A tear doesn't mean you cry
But one thing can't deny
There's no good in goodbye
That's why i'm too afraid to say hi

Thing is it's not a thing
is nothing but it cares
is at the heart of all things!

Following the first chirping
of the bird at the crack of dawn.
Floating clouds rendering
with the colour of the wind.
Take a sneak view of the day
at the first sight of the rose.
Believe it or not, the sun does it
every day every morning.
And paints the day, paint yours!
Paint your imagination, do it
as you please, the sky is no limit.

No one is behind, the sunrise
paintbrush is still wet is striving.
New every mo the time is on the move
springs in charting the full-blown spring.
The old rose is still the same beautiful
Happy with all remarks everything
till to date, it minds nothing, nothing!

The
          sometimes
          tremulous
glimpses of surprise,
I think
     what a book it would make.

I hear the late afternoon cheer
         the honest type
somewhere                                                          
                  lurking behind
                                old Sixth Avenue Road.
I suppose
it is not just a phenomenon of nature that goes instinctively on,
not the appalling detail of any large human scheme, eroded by schedules
But I accept it as one of the miracles.
(Which I never see anywhere else)

Yours is the face in the crowd
I want to see.
Yours is the name that I hear
And I always speak.
Yours is the sound on the wind
The missing breath in between
Mine is the serious thing
I know you’re missing me.

Yours is the song of the south
Of east, north and west too.
Yours is the message I see
But forgo replying to.
Yours is the chart that I read
Yours is the name I wail out with dread
When I’m alone sobbing in my bed
Full of the missing in between instead.

Yours is the face in the crowd
I’d rather meet.
Yours is the name that brings pain
The bittersweet.
Yours is the watery depth
Mine is the fire that leaves you bereft
And I know that I’m still a Queen
But there’s too much in between.