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Seema Jul 2017
Soyi soyi si hai zindagi
Koyi bewaqt awaaz na de
Kismat meri ruthi si hai
Magar ankh khul jati hai
Tere ek ehesaas se...

Life is almost at a sleep stage
No one even gives a call
My fate is upset, yet willing
As my eyes opens
From the unusual feeling

Saaye se bhi, waja puch le
Ki darpar dastak kiyu nahi karti
Zalim dil soh nahi pata
Raato ki beraham tanhayiyan
Har waqt tujhe pukarti...

Ask the shadow the reasons
Why it doesn't show up these days
This wrenched heart, cannot sleep
In the loneliness of night
Calls for you, then starts to weep

Farista ban gaye ** ya fakir
Likhte hi nahi ** mere naseeb
Ek tutta tara, aine mei dekha
Khoobsurat sa chahera
Har baar rutha...

Have you become an angel or a saint
You no longer write my fate
A shooting star, on the mirror sighted
A beautiful face
Saddened yet delighted...

My mind wonders awe..
Mollie Grant Aug 2016
Thursday night is game night but Hasbro
has never had this one right. Operation is not
a game for ages four and up–maybe four,
multiplied by four, add four, and up.
Surgical mask on, Cavity Sam prepped,
and tweezers waiting to the right of the operating table:

I like to start with the Adam's apple–
carve away any trace of my origins
and they will never figure out who I am
because, like my mother used to say to me,
who is Eve without a blameless man.

Then I move on to the butterflies in the stomach
flittering and fluttering for a home that feels far more familiar
but they cannot be caught, only drowned.

Naturally, the broken heart follows
but the problem with pulling that out is
the never-ending-silence,
white-noise-science, black-hole-giant,
You know, the absence that predates writer's block–

writer's cramp, sliding a pencil up your wrist like it's the
(best kept) secret IV of an author.
Is that the price of filling up your bread basket,
going  to bed full on recognition and reward
and maybe even a Pulitzer Prize?
Be careful not to trip up on your own ego
or you just might end up with a wrenched ankle
and water on the knee.

I still have to deal with the wishbone,
the split-in-two-gravestone,
the only-one-of-us-is-leaving-here-happy zone.

And finally, I have the spare ribs
but I just might leave those there
because we see what happened when God
bothered to remove those the last time.

— The End —