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Shrivastva MK May 2015
Kahan kho gya hoon,
Main tera ** gya hoon,
Dekhlo sanam ekbar mujhe,
Main kya se kya ** gya hoon,
Main kya se kya ** gya hoon...


Kyon lut liye mere khawabo ko,
Kyon tor diye mere sare sapne bhi,
Tut gye sare rishte tujhse,
Kyon tor diya dil mera bhi....


Ab to tujhse juda hone ke
Dard me
Hansna bhi bhul gya hoon,
Dekh lo sanam mujhe,
Main kya se kya ** gya hoon,
Main kya se kya ** gya hoon.......


Tapak pari aansoo mere aankhon se,
Jab jab teri yaad aai....
Ruk jati kalam meri
Jab likhne ko tera nam aai....


Kahta hai Manish bhi
Apne DIL se,
Bhul jao use kyoki,
Main ab Patthar ka ** gya hoon,


Dekhlo sanam mujhe
tere pyar me
Main kya se kya ** gya hoon,
Main kya se kya ** gya hoon....
Äŧül Oct 2016
Tu Chaahe, Tu Chaahe, Ya Na,
(Whether you wish or don’t,)
Main Jiyunga, Haan Main, Jiyunga.
(I will live, yes I will.)

Jeewan Ka Har Maza,
(Each fun of life,)
Main Ji Bhar Ke Lutaunga,
(I will enjoy wholly,)
Tune Diya Hai Jo Dand,
(The punishment which you have given,)
Main Karunga Ise Bhang.
(I will dismiss it.)
Tu Chaahe, Tu Chaahe, Ya Na,
(Whether you wish or don’t,)
Main Jiyunga, Haan Main, Jiyunga.
(I will live, yes I will.)

Tu Chaahe, Tu Chaahe, Ya Na,
(Whether you wish or don’t,)
Main Kab Jiyunga, Kab Main Jiyunga.
(When will I live, When will I live.)
Jeewan Mein Kya Maza,
(What fun life would be,)
Bin Tere Jo Bitaunga.
(If at all I stop believing in you.)

Woh Jeena Kya Jeena,
(Would that be a life at all,)
Har Pal ** Jab Saza!
(When each moment I spend is a punishment!)

To Tu Chhaaja, Haan Tu Chhaaja,
(So be the shade over me, yes please,)
Main Phir Jiyunga, Haan Main Jiyunga.
(I will live again, yes I will.)
Tu Chhaaja, Haan Tu Chhaaja,
(Be the shade over me, yes please,)
Phir Main Jiyunga, Haan Main, Jiyunga. (And then I’ll live again.)
The lyrics to my Tu Chaahe song

Modification to an original composition called 'Tu Aaye' by me.

I made this modification after my life threatening accident.

HP Poem #1229
©Atul Kaushal
Äŧül Jul 2016
Tu Chaahe, Tu Chaahe, Ya Na, (Whether you wish or don’t,)
Main Jiyunga, Haan Main, Jiyunga. (I will live, yes I will.)

Jeewan Ka Har Maza, (Each fun of life,)
Main Ji Bhar Ke Lutaunga, (I will enjoy wholly,)
Tune Diya Hai Jo Dand, (The punishment which you have given,)
Main Karunga Ise Bhang. (I will dismiss it.)

Tu Chaahe, Tu Chaahe, Ya Na, (Whether you wish or don’t,)
Main Jiyunga, Haan Main, Jiyunga. (I will live, yes I will.)
Tu Chaahe, Tu Chaahe, Ya Na, (Whether you wish or don’t,)
Main Kab Jiyunga, Kab Main Jiyunga. (When I'll live, When will I live.)

Jeewan Mein Kya Maza, (What sense is there in life,)
Bin Tere Jo Bitaunga. (If I stop believing in you.)
Woh Jeena Kya Jeena, (Would that be a life at all,)
Har Pal ** Jab Saza! (When each moment I spend is a punishment!)

To Tu Chhaaja, Haan Tu Chhaaja, (So be the shade over me, yes please,)
Main Phir Jiyunga, Haan Main Jiyunga. (I will live again, yes I will.)
To Tu Chhaaja, Ab Tu Chhaaja, (You spread over me, now please,)
Phir Main Jiyunga, Haan Main, Jiyunga. (And I will live again.)
I had simply modified one of my last songs composed before the life-threatening accident with a largely positive twist to make it seem more like an ode to the Almighty instead. It was also a vengeful challenge that I had taken up intending to rewrite my own destiny. So it used to give me supple relief singing, recording and listening to it again.

My HP Poem #1100
©Atul Kaushal

The title is pronounced as /tu chaahay/.
Main tumhe dhundhne swarg ke dwar tak,
roj jaata raha, roj aata raha.
Tum gazal ban gayi ban gayi,
geet me dhal gayi,
Manch se main tumhe gungunata raha.

Zindagi ke sabhi raste ek the,
sabki manzil tumhare chayan tak rahi.
aprakashit rahe peer ke upnishad,
man ki gopan kathayein nayan tak rahi,
Praan ke pristh par preet ki vartani
tum mitati rahi, mai banata raha

Main tumhe dhundhne swarg ke dwar tak,
roj jaata raha, roj aata raha.
Tum gazal ban gayi ban gayi, geet me dhal gayi,
Manch se mai tumhe gungunata raha.

Ek khamosh halchal bani zindagi,
gehra thehra hua jal bani zindagi,
tum bina jaise mehlon me beeta hua
urmila ka koi pal bani zindagi.
drishti akaash me aas ka ek diya
tum bujhaati rahi mai jalaata raha.
Main tumhe dhundhne swarg ke dwar tak..

Main tumhe dhundhne swarg ke dwar tak,
roj jaata raha, roj aata raha.
Tum gazal ban gayi ban gayi,
geet me dhal gayi,
Manch se main tumhe gungunata raha.

Main tumhe dhundhne swarg ke dwar tak..!!
Copyright© Shashank K Dwivedi
email-shashankdwivedi.edu@gmail.com
Follow me on Facebook-https://www.facebook.com/skdisro
Muhammad Khalid Khan
December 14, 2018 ·
Ghazal
Tum kaho to main bus wahan rakhon
Itnay dil main kahan kahan rakhon
Hay sanam khaana ye jahan sara
Tum kaho main zuban kahaan rakhon
Husan nay hosla barhaya hay
Ishq ko kiyun na darmian rakhon
Ang ang main charagh jaltay hain
Hain andheray kahaan kahaan rakhon
Hay Bhanwar main ye zindgi saari
Kia main kishti main badban rakhon
To mujay mil gia tha rastay main
Pass kiyun ab main do jahan rakhon
Zard sahra main hay safar sara
Sar pa phir kiyun main aasman rakhon
Umar sa kaisa lena dena hay
Dil ko aye jan na kiyun jawan rakhon
Sath hain teray shahr bhar ka log
Dil ko main kitna bad guman rakhon
Mehr dushman howa jahan sara
Bolo janaan ko main kahaan rakhon
Colonel Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2018 Hath Main Hath
Fable XVIII, Livre II.


Tandis que sa main droite achevait un tableau,
Certain professeur en peinture
Gourmandait sa main gauche, et disait : « La nature
T'a fait là, pauvre peintre ! un assez sot cadeau.
Jamais une esquisse, une ébauche,
Un simple trait peut-il sortir de ta main gauche ?
Sait-elle tenir un pinceau ?
Non, pas même un crayon ! Cependant, maladroite,
N'as-tu pas cinq doigts bien comptés ?
Pour faire en tout mes volontés,
Qu'as-tu de moins que ma main droite ?
- Beaucoup, monsieur, » répond pour le membre accusé
L'un des cinq doigts ; le petit doigt, sans doute ;
Doigt très instruit, doigt très rusé,
Doigt qui sait ce qu'il dit comme tel qui l'écoute.
« La main gauche à la droite est semblable en tous points,
Dans l'état de nature ou l'état d'ignorance,
Car c'est tout un ; mais quelle différence
Entre ces sœurs bientôt s'établit par vos soins,
Vers la droite en tout temps portés de préférence !
La main droite est toujours en opération ;
La main gauche en repos : voilà toute l'affaire.
On ne peut devenir habile, à ne rien faire.
Au seul défaut d'instruction
Attribuez, monsieur, l'impuissance où nous sommes.
Croyez-vous l'éducation
Moins nécessaire aux mains qu'aux hommes ? »
Kareshma Sep 2014
Yun chala main in raston pe,
Bhool gaya *** khud ko.
Saathi kaun thay mere yaad nahi ab toh
Bas koi dikhta hain door khada,
halkisi muskaan lekar
Aur nahi samjha kyun,
main bhi muskaya aise bina wajah
Par lagta hain ab aise ke,
Shayad wo teri yaad hain


Khoya main apne mein kuch aisa,
Yaaron ka nahi hain pata
Ghar se hoon itna door,
ke ab woh bhi nahi yaad ata
Woh gaana sunta jab,
gungunta use awaaron jaisa tab
Aur nahi samjha main,
kyun gungunaya aisa bin matlab
Par lagta hain ab aise ke,
Shayad woh teri yaad hain

Juda hunye hain hum,
milte nahi hain ab hum
Din guzre,
beete hain ab saal
Zindagi mein main apne khoya, tu apne
Par phir bhi lagta,
shaayad hum milte toh hoti duniya alag
Hoti Manzil ek aur raaste ek,
Aur hota ek saathi,jise karta nahi main sirf yaadon mein quaid
Arvind Bhardwaj Mar 2016
Main Hindi ..
Kabhi seene se mujhko lagaane waale,
Har geet me mujhe gungunane waale,
Bani jab bhi maa ki lori, meri god me wo so jaane waale,
mujhse ab rishta tod chuke hain..

Jinki har vedna ki main awaaz bani,
Khusi se gungunaye to main saaz bani,
Kabhi sone ke panno me khela karti thi,
Aaj chand harfo ki mohtaaj bani.

Kabhi tarannum me to kabhi tarano me thi,
Pyar me likhe afsaano me thi,
Yovan ke madhur sangeeto me thi,
Ishq me tadpe to main unki zubaano pe thi.

Kranti ke inqlaab me nihit, Har  do took jawab me thi,
Akhbaro ke panne bankar jamghat behisaab me thi,
Vijay Udghosh kiya jab tumne, bankar itihaas kitaab me thi.

Har roop me jinko mamta di, Jinka tha maine varan kiya,
Unhi beto me bhari sabha me tha mera cheer haran kiya,
Itne varsho se jo meri godi me fal fool rahe the,
Tadap uthi main, dekha jab, wo mujhko hi ab bhool rahe the.

Antarvedna ke gehan dard se roti main chitkaar rahi thi,
Har koi anjaan tha mujhse, aur main Bebas nihaar rahi thi..
Anurag Banerjee Jun 2012
Main toh piya se nain laga aai re

And I saw timidity,
Like the folding of a leaf
At the touch of a dew drop.
You looked away,
And in your eyes
I smiled.

Main toh piya se nain laga aai re

And I saw anger,
Like the burning of paper
And the words on it.
You looked into my eyes,
And in yours
I couldn't see myself.

Main toh piya se nain laga aai re

And I saw forgiveness,
Like the sound of falling rain
On a heated window pane.
You looked down,
And in your eyes
I saw the ground.

Main toh piya se nain laga aai re

And I saw longing,
Like the words in my mind
Waiting to reach your pen.
You looked at my palms,
And in your eyes
I saw my tomorrow.

Main toh piya se nain laga aai re

And I saw lust,
Like butterflies in spring
Dancing in mid-air.
You looked at me,
And in your eyes
I saw wildfire.

Main toh piya se nain laga aai re

And I saw love,
Like the tears in my mother's voice
Asking me to stay awhile.
You looked into my eyes,
And in yours
I saw only myself.
Anurag Banerjee Jun 2012
Main toh piya se nain laga aai re

And I saw timidity,
Like the folding of a leaf
At the touch of a dew drop.
You looked away,
And in your eyes
I smiled.

Main toh piya se nain laga aai re

And I saw anger,
Like the burning of paper
And the words on it.
You looked into my eyes,
And in yours
I couldn't see myself.

Main toh piya se nain laga aai re

And I saw forgiveness,
Like the sound of falling rain
On a heated window pane.
You looked down,
And in your eyes
I saw the ground.

Main toh piya se nain laga aai re

And I saw longing,
Like the words in my mind
Waiting to reach your pen.
You looked at my palms,
And in your eyes
I saw my tomorrow.

Main toh piya se nain laga aai re

And I saw lust,
Like butterflies in spring
Dancing in mid-air.
You looked at me,
And in your eyes
I saw wildfire.

Main toh piya se nain laga aai re

And I saw love,
Like the tears in my mother's voice
Asking me to stay awhile.
You looked into my eyes,
And in yours
I saw only myself.
Äŧül Apr 2015
Male:
Main tennu eevein chaahnda,
<Yo baby! I love you like this,>
Jeevein Mor koi Morni nu - haaye...
<Like a peacock loves a peahen, yeah...>

^^

Together:
Saath poori jindadi daa...
<Well we'll be togetha foreva...>
Ehi saddaa vaada hai - haaye...
<Yea this is our commitment - yo...>

^
^

Male:
Jadon tu kitey meri jindadi vich jaaye, haaye...
<If you go away from my life someday, may mercy be upon me...>
Naal meri jindadi v jaaye, haaye...
<Along may go my life too, yea...>

^^

Female:
*Ke main tennu eevein chaahndi,
<That I love you like this,>
Jeevein Mor nu koi Morni ** - haaye...
<Like a peahen loves a peacock, yeah...>

Jadon main tennu kadi mildi haan,
<When I meet you,>
Bol paendiyaan akkhaan teriyaan, haaye...
<Your eyes start talking, yea...>

Main tennu eevein chaahndi,
<I love you like this,>
Jeevein Mor nu koi Morni **, haaye...
<Like a peahen loves a peacock, yea...>*

^
^

Male:
Main tennu eevein chaahnda,
<Yo baby! I love you like this,>
Jeevein Mor koi Morni nu - haaye...
<Like a peacock loves a peahen, yeah...>

^^

Female:
*Main tennu eevein chaahndi,
<I love you like this,>
Jeevein Mor nu koi Morni **, haaye...
<As if a peahen loves a peacock, yea...>*

^
^

Together:**
Saath poori jindadi daa...
<Well we'll be togetha foreva...>
Ehi saddaa vaada hai - haaye...
<Yea this is our commitment - yo...>
My HP Poem #842
©Atul Kaushal
Shrivastva MK May 2015
Jab se tujhe dekha hain maine,
Teri hi khayalo me kho gya hoon,
Raton ki nind uda *** hain tere bina,
Main ab deewana sa ** gya hoon ......


Teri aankhon me ek nasha hain,
Teri har ek ada par
mera dil fida hain,
tere bina main
ek kora kagaj sa ** gya hoon,
main ab deewana sa ** gya hoon.....


tere chehre ki ye muskurahat
meri zindagi hain,
ab tujhse hi meri sari dilagi hain,
Har bar najane kyon teri or
khicha chala ja raha hoon,
main ab deewane sa ** gya hoon.....


Tujhe manga hain maine apne rab se,
dekha hain tujhe maine jab se,
ekpal tere bina ek saal samajh raha hoon,
main ab deewana sa ** gya hoon,
Main ab deewana sa ** gya hoon....
beautiful affectionful wonderful
Kripi Jun 2013
Jaanaa bas ek ishara to kar,
Tere kadmon mein la du sehar
Meri ab qaid khwahish na kar,
aake mere baazuon mein bikhar
Teri baahon ke saaye mein aake pighalna chahungi

Tu jo kahey hasna chahungi,
Tere sang chalna chahungi
** nuks mujhmein gar kahin............Main khud ko badalna chahungi


Feeki feeki si zindagi,
Tu ghol de aa chashni
Tod de sab bandishein,
Aa thaam le le chal kahin

Tanhaai ne hi hasaaya hai, tanhaai ne hi rulaaya hai
Tujhe dekh kar ke yun laga, tune mujhko khud se milaaya hai
Ladkhadati rahi, kabse thi main magar,
Tujhko paake zara ..sambhalna chahungi
Tu jo kahey hasna chahungi, tere sang chalna chahungi
** nuks mujhmein gar kahin......
** nuks mujhmein gar kahin......
Main khud ko badalna chahungi

Tu ashq hai khushiyon bhara
Koi mast ehsas hai
Tujhe kya kahun mere waaste.. tu hawa nahi saans hai
Saara jahaan main maan lu, gar tu mere saath hai
Tere saath bhi jo likhe ** ghum, to dard sab raas hai
Tere saaye mein **.. ab meri har subha
Shaam banke tere saath dhalna chahungi

*Tu jo kahey hasna chahungi, tere sang chalna chahungi
** nuks mujhmein gar kahin......
** nuks mujhmein gar kahin......Main khud ko badalna chahungi......
It's a Hindi song
Awesome Lyrics
Dedicated To My Love
I will show it's translation in Atul's next poem

(Atul.... Please Help Me In Translating.....:-P)
Mujhe wo aksar kehta tha
Muhabat kuch nhi hoti

Hijar ka khauf be matlab
Wasl k khwab bemani

... Nighaoon main koi soorat
Kahan din rat rehti hai

Usy q khamoshi kahain
K jis main bat rehti hai

Wo ankhain kaisi hoti hain?
Jahan barsat rehti hai

Yeh ansu bezaban ansu
Bhala kya bol saktay hain

Or uski narm palko pe nami
Din rat rehti hai

Mujhe wo aksar kehta tha
Mohabbat kuch nahi hoti

Magar jab aj barson bad
Main ne usko dekha hai

K uski jheel ankho main
Hijar ka khof rehta hai

Wasl k khwab rehtay hain
Wahan barsat rehti hai

Yun lagta hai k barson se
Wo soya v nahi shayad

Yun lagta hai kisi ki yada barson se
Usy din rat rehti hai

Or uski narm palkon pe
Haseen saay be geelay hain

Or uski khamoshi aisi k
Jis main bat rehti hai

Mujhe ab wo nahee kehta
Muhabat kch nahee hoti.
Copyright© Shashank K Dwivedi
Web- skdisro.weebly.com
email-shashankdwivedi.edu@gmail.com
Follow me on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/skdisro
Shrivastva MK Jun 2015
Mujhe tumse pyar hai,
Ye dil tere liye hi beqarar hai,
Jab nind se band ** jati meri aankhen,
Es khubsurat sapno me bas tera hi intezar hai,


Tujhe dekhlu ek bar
yahi chahat hai meri,
Tujhse pyar karun ji'h bhar ke
yahi khawaish hai meri,
Mang lu tujhe main rab se
Kyoki tum to zindagi ** meri,


Kitna hasin banaya tujhe us rab ne,
** gya *** deewana tera
dekha tujhe maine jab se,


Chand sa pyara chehra tera,
Pariyon si teri muskan,
na jana mujhe chhodkar,
o hamsafar ban ke meri jaan,

Es suni si duniya ko meri hasin bna do,
Ban ke meri zindagi mujhe apna bna lo,
Kah do ekbar mujhe ki
"main tumse pyar karti ***",
Har waqt teri yaadon me kho kar
"main tera hi intezar karti ***"

Luta denge apni sari khusi tujhpar,
Main pyar karta *** tujhse yakin kar mujhpar,
Yakin kar mujhpar.....
TRANSLATION OF POEM TITLE :-WANTS TO GET YOU
Äŧül Jul 2019
Tu aaye, Tu aaye,
You come, whether you come,
Ya na, main jiyunga.
Or do not, I shall survive.
Haan main jiyunga...
Yes I shall survive.

Chaahe kaisi ** doorie,
However long be the distance,
Na ** koi majboorie,
Just there be no compulsion.
Tu mujhse hi judi,
You are connected to me,
Main tujh mein hi samaaya.
Only I possess your heart.

Zindagi mein kya ** maza,
What fun in life is there,
Bin tere jo bitaunga,
If I spend it without you,
Wo jeena kya jeena,
Oh what fun is such a life,
Har pal ** jab sazaa...
When each moment is a torment...

Tu aaye, Tu aaja,
You come, you should come,
Tu aaye, Ab tu aaja,
You come, now you should come,
Phir main jiyunga,
Then I shall blossom,
Haan main jiyunga,
Yes I shall blossom.
Main phir jiyunga,
I shall live again,
Haan main...Jiyungaaaaa...**
Yes, I shall thrive...
https://youtu.be/QMPoATQzoVg

This is the last song I composed before my rebirth after that gravely serious accident. But the song in itself was the tombstone of my first relationship. I composed the song in high sorrow and with all the anger I could manage to veil my tears. A song to disport myself from my first-ever break-up I would term that.

I cursed her as badly as I could and at the same time I said the words that I could say earlier to avoid the break-up. Its basic theme meaning is depicted in the opening line meaning 'Whether you come or don't, I'm gonna live.'

But the lyrics can be misleading as this song is made not only to give vent to the ire my first girlfriend invited but also it hopes that some ideal girl of my dreams (only imaginary) would come and love me in a way which I desire to be loved.

Everybody needs love.
True.
I'm currently happy with the love and care I get from my parents.
Though their care creeps to my nerves at times, they prove to be right most at of the instances.

So, I need my lover to love me better.

My HP Poem #1748
©Atul Kaushal
Syed S M Tabish Mar 2014
Main Aur mere roommates
aksar Yeh Baatain Karte Hain
Ghar saaf hota to kaisa hota
Main kitchen saaf karta, tum bathrooom dhote
main hall saaf karta, tum balcony dekhte
Log is baat pe hairaan hote
aur us baat pe haste….

Main aur mere roommates,
aksar Yeh Baatain Karte Hain
Yeh hara bhara sink hai
ya bartanon ki jang chidi hui hai
Yeh colour full kitchen hai
ya masalon se holi kheli hai
Hai farsh ki nayi design
ya doodh, beer se dhuli hui hain

Yeh cellphone hai ya dhakkan,
sleeping bag ya kisika aanchal,
ye airfreshner ka naya flavour hai,
ya trash bag se ati badboo
Yeh pattiyon ki hai sarsarahut
ke heater phirse kharab hua hai
Yeh sonchta hain roommate kab se gum sum -
Ke jab ke usko bhi yeh khabar hai
Ke machar nahi hai, kaheen nahi hai
magar uska dil hai ke kah raha hai
machar yaheen hai, yaheen kaheen hai !

Toand ( pet ) ki ye haalat, meri bhi hai, uski bhi,
dil mein ek tasvir idhar bhi hai, udhar bhi
Karne ko bohot kuch hai magar kab kare hum
Kab tak yoon hi is tarah rahe hum
Dil kahta hai Safeway se koi vaccum cleaner la de
ye Carpet jo jine ko zoonz raha hai, fikwa de
Hum saaf rahe sakte hai, logon ko bata dain,
Haan hum roommates hai – roommates hai – roommates hai

Ab dil main yehi baaaat, idhar bhi hai udhar bhi..

Sab ko bata dain..
WriteMeAD Aug 2016
Ek Baar Suno Kuch Aisa Hua

Wo Mujh Ko Mili Main Us Ko Mila

Izhar Hua Iqraar Hua

Wo Dost Bani Main Yaar Hua

Usey Ishq Bohat Mujhe  Pyaar Bohat

Hum Dono Mein Takraar Bohat

Phir Ek Din Kuch Yun Hua

Wo 6od ke Gayi Main Toot Gaya

Phir Ek Din Hum Kuch Yun Millay

Wo Tanha Thi Main Akela Tha

Bas Hum Do Thay Aur Koi Na Tha

Woo Rone Lagi Main Bebas Raha

Na Pyar Na Hi Izhaar Raha

Bas Farq Sirf Itna Hi Raha

Main MITTI KE UPAR ROTA RAHA...
Wo MITTI KE ANDAR SOTI RAHI...
Yeh Mera Apna Tajurba Hai
Tumhe Batla Raha Hoon Main
Koi lab chooh Gaya tha tab
Ki ab tak ga raha *** main

Bichadd Kar Yaar Se
Kaise Jiya Jayee Bina Tadpe
Jo Main Khud Hi Nahin samjha
Wohi samjha raha Hoon Main

Kisi Pathar Main Moorat Hai
Koi Pathar ki Moorat Hai
Lo Hum Ne Dekh Li Duniya
Jo Itni Khoobsurat Hai

Jamaana Ab Nahi Samjhe
Par Mujhe Apni Khabar Yeh Hai
Tujhe Meri Zaroorat Hai
Mujhe Teri Zaroorat Hai
Copyright© Shashank K Dwivedi
email-shashankdwivedi.edu@gmail.com
Follow me on Facebook-https://www.facebook.com/skdisro
Harold r Hunt Sr Jun 2014
Main Street U.S.A.
Every town has a main street.
Some Short and some long.
But in this town on main street  
We once saw clowns.
They dance and ran around as they went up the main street.
We saw the bands coming from all around.
Play a Yankee doodle tune.
All the way downs our main street.
No more do we hears that band.
For in some towns, they have forgotten the good times on our main streets U.S.A.
Meray wajud main yun mera yar raqsan hay
Kay jaisay shukh faseelon pa piar raqsan hay
Nazar hay jati jahan pa wohan hay wo mujod
Kay kis tara say chaman main baharraqsan hay
Jo bhar kay dekha usay ab naheen hay apni khabr
Magr nashay main hon main tar tar raqsan hay
Jo sar main suda samaya watan parasti ka
Hazar rah may ab dekho dar raqsan hay
Na jalti ankhain jalao ka buj na jain kaheen
Ka meri aankhon main bus intizar raqsan hay
Hazar rang ma hay husn piar yak ranga
Ka rang rang main bus ik hisar raqsan hay
Mai Mehr la gia bazi wo ** *** meri
Ka meray charon taraf purdadar raqsan hay

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow
aSLAM M Aug 2018
Main Woh Hu
Jau Har Roz Zindagi sai Pistaaa Hai.
Main Woh  Hu
Jau Har Waqt  Sauchtaa Hi Rehta Hai.
Main Woh  Hu
Jau Kadva Sach  Bolnai Sai Darta  Hai.
Main Woh  Hu
Jau Khamoosh  Kiya Jata Hai.
Main Woh  Hu
Jau Gham mai bhi Muskurata hai.
Aakhir mai Ek Sawaal Yeh bhi Aataa hai ki
Main Kaun  Hu ?
Random Thoughts in Hindi.
AO Baghi Mar 2018
"MAIN"
Akela jise subh kuch hai karna'
"MAIN"
gham muje khushiyon se tu bhar na'
"MAIN"
Maut  mujhe Zindagi se hai larna'
"MAIN"
Samundar *** qatron se kia Darrna'
Jese barsaat me Patjhar ka ** Jharna
jese har raat  ** yaadon se machalna
Jese meri apni ** koi khud se he zid na
Mujh me "MAIN" hai muje apni fikar na
In this poem I am describing about myself. #InnerVoice
M Aug 2013
I can be your better half,
You can be my main squeeze.
We can keep this light hearted
And go with the salty breeze

That blows along the oceanside;
We'll flow like the waves flow free-
Come be my main man,
Come be my one and only.

I'll be your balancing act,
You'll be my rationality,
So long that it includes you-
Together is how we should be.

We can stay in or go out,
We can go anywhere actually,
So long that you're coming along,
Promise you'll be right next to me.

Come be my main man,
I'll be your main squeeze.
You're the perfect fit, you see-
We fit together with such ease.

Come and stay awhile,
There's no rush to leave.
We look so good together,
To this I believe.
FIRST DAY

1.
Who wanted me
to go to Chicago
on January 6th?
I did!

The night before,
20 below zero
Fahrenheit
with the wind chill;
as the blizzard of 99
lay in mountains
of blackening snow.

I packed two coats,
two suits,
three sweaters,
multiple sets of long johns
and heavy white socks
for a two-day stay.

I left from Newark.
**** the denseness,
it confounds!

The 2nd City to whom?
2nd ain’t bad.
It’s pretty good.
If you consider
Peking and Prague,
Tokyo and Togo,
Manchester and Moscow,
Port Au Prince and Paris,
Athens and Amsterdam,
Buenos Aries and Johannesburg;
that’s pretty good.

What’s going on here today?
It’s friggin frozen.
To the bone!

But Chi Town is still cool.
Buddy Guy’s is open.
Bartenders mixing drinks,
cabbies jamming on their breaks,
honey dew waitresses serving sugar,
buildings swerving,
fire tongued preachers are preaching
and the farmers are measuring the moon.

The lake,
unlike Ontario
is in the midst of freezing.
Bones of ice
threaten to gel
into a solid mass
over the expanse
of the Michigan Lake.
If this keeps up,
you can walk
clear to Toronto
on a silver carpet.

Along the shore
the ice is permanent.
It’s the first big frost
of winter
after a long
Indian Summer.

Thank God
I caught a cab.
Outside I hear
The Hawk
nippin hard.
It’ll get your ear,
finger or toe.
Bite you on the nose too
if you ain’t careful.

Thank God,
I’m not walking
the Wabash tonight;
but if you do cover up,
wear layers.

Chicago,
could this be
Sandburg’s City?

I’m overwhelmed
and this is my tenth time here.

It’s almost better,
sometimes it is better,
a lot of times it is better
and denser then New York.

Ask any Bull’s fan.
I’m a Knickerbocker.
Yes Nueva York,
a city that has placed last
in the standings
for many years.
Except the last two.
Yanks are # 1!

But Chicago
is a dynasty,
as big as
Sammy Sosa’s heart,
rich and wide
as Michael Jordan’s grin.

Middle of a country,
center of a continent,
smack dab in the mean
of a hemisphere,
vortex to a world,
Chicago!

Kansas City,
Nashville,
St. Louis,
Detroit,
Cleveland,
Pittsburgh,
Denver,
New Orleans,
Dallas,
Cairo,
Singapore,
Auckland,
Baghdad,
Mexico City
and Montreal
salute her.



2.
Cities,
A collection of vanities?
Engineered complex utilitarianism?
The need for community a social necessity?
Ego one with the mass?
Civilization’s latest *******?
Chicago is more then that.

Jefferson’s yeoman farmer
is long gone
but this capitol
of the Great Plains
is still democratic.

The citizen’s of this city
would vote daily,
if they could.

Chicago,
Sandburg’s Chicago,
Could it be?

The namesake river
segments the city,
canals of commerce,
all perpendicular,
is rife throughout,
still guiding barges
to the Mississippi
and St. Laurence.

Now also
tourist attractions
for a cafe society.

Chicago is really jazzy,
swanky clubs,
big steaks,
juices and drinks.

You get the best
coffee from Seattle
and the finest teas
from China.

Great restaurants
serve liquid jazz
al la carte.

Jazz Jazz Jazz
All they serve is Jazz
Rock me steady
Keep the beat
Keep it flowin
Feel the heat!

Jazz Jazz Jazz
All they is, is Jazz
Fast cars will take ya
To the show
Round bout midnight
Where’d the time go?

Flows into the Mississippi,
the mother of America’s rivers,
an empires aorta.

Great Lakes wonder of water.
Niagara Falls
still her heart gushes forth.

Buffalo connected to this holy heart.
Finger Lakes and Adirondacks
are part of this watershed,
all the way down to the
Delaware and Chesapeake.

Sandburg’s Chicago?
Oh my my,
the wonder of him.
Who captured the imagination
of the wonders of rivers.

Down stream other holy cities
from the Mississippi delta
all mapped by him.

Its mouth our Dixie Trumpet
guarded by righteous Cajun brethren.

Midwest?
Midwest from where?
It’s north of Caracas and Los Angeles,
east of Fairbanks,
west of Dublin
and south of not much.

Him,
who spoke of honest men
and loving women.
Working men and mothers
bearing citizens to build a nation.
The New World’s
precocious adolescent
caught in a stream
of endless and exciting change,
much pain and sacrifice,
dedication and loss,
pride and tribulations.

From him we know
all the people’s faces.
All their stories are told.
Never defeating the
idea of Chicago.

Sandburg had the courage to say
what was in the heart of the people, who:

Defeated the Indians,
Mapped the terrain,
Aided slavers,
Fought a terrible civil war,
Hoisted the barges,
Grew the food,
Whacked the wheat,
Sang the songs,
Fought many wars of conquest,
Cleared the land,
Erected the bridges,
Trapped the game,
Netted the fish,
Mined the coal,
Forged the steel,
Laid the tracks,
Fired the tenders,
Cut the stone,
Mixed the mortar,
Plumbed the line,
And laid the bricks
Of this nation of cities!

Pardon the Marlboro Man shtick.
It’s a poor expostulation of
crass commercial symbolism.

Like I said, I’m a
Devil Fan from Jersey
and Madison Avenue
has done its work on me.

It’s a strange alchemy
that changes
a proud Nation of Blackhawks
into a merchandising bonanza
of hometown hockey shirts,
making the native seem alien,
and the interloper at home chillin out,
warming his feet atop a block of ice,
guzzling Old Style
with clicker in hand.

Give him his beer
and other diversions.
If he bowls with his buddy’s
on Tuesday night
I hope he bowls
a perfect game.

He’s earned it.
He works hard.
Hard work and faith
built this city.

And it’s not just the faith
that fills the cities
thousand churches,
temples and
mosques on the Sabbath.

3.
There is faith in everything in Chicago!

An alcoholic broker named Bill
lives the Twelve Steps
to banish fear and loathing
for one more day.
Bill believes in sobriety.

A tug captain named Moe
waits for the spring thaw
so he can get the barges up to Duluth.
Moe believes in the seasons.

A farmer named Tom
hopes he has reaped the last
of many bitter harvests.
Tom believes in a new start.

A homeless man named Earl
wills himself a cot and a hot
at the local shelter.
Earl believes in deliverance.

A Pullman porter
named George
works overtime
to get his first born
through medical school.
George believes in opportunity.

A folk singer named Woody
sings about his
countrymen inheritance
and implores them to take it.
Woody believes in people.

A Wobbly named Joe
organizes fellow steelworkers
to fight for a workers paradise
here on earth.
Joe believes in ideals.

A bookkeeper named Edith
is certain she’ll see the Cubs
win the World Series
in her lifetime.
Edith believes in miracles.

An electrician named ****
saves money
to bring his family over from Gdansk.
**** believes in America.

A banker named Leah
knows Ditka will return
and lead the Bears
to another Super Bowl.
Leah believes in nostalgia.

A cantor named Samuel
prays for another 20 years
so he can properly train
his Temple’s replacement.

Samuel believes in tradition.
A high school girl named Sally
refuses to get an abortion.
She knows she carries
something special within her.
Sally believes in life.

A city worker named Mazie
ceaselessly prays
for her incarcerated son
doing 10 years at Cook.
Mazie believes in redemption.

A jazzer named Bix
helps to invent a new art form
out of the mist.
Bix believes in creativity.

An architect named Frank
restores the Rookery.
Frank believes in space.

A soldier named Ike
fights wars for democracy.
Ike believes in peace.

A Rabbi named Jesse
sermonizes on Moses.
Jesse believes in liberation.

Somewhere in Chicago
a kid still believes in Shoeless Joe.
The kid believes in
the integrity of the game.

An Imam named Louis
is busy building a nation
within a nation.
Louis believes in
self-determination.

A teacher named Heidi
gives all she has to her students.
She has great expectations for them all.
Heidi believes in the future.

4.
Does Chicago have a future?

This city,
full of cowboys
and wildcatters
is predicated
on a future!

Bang, bang
Shoot em up
Stake the claim
It’s your terrain
Drill the hole
Strike it rich
Top it off
You’re the boss
Take a chance
Watch it wane
Try again
Heavenly gains

Chicago
city of futures
is a Holy Mecca
to all day traders.

Their skin is gray,
hair disheveled,
loud ties and
funny coats,
thumb through
slips of paper
held by nail
chewed hands.
Selling promises
with no derivative value
for out of the money calls
and in the money puts.
Strike is not a labor action
in this city of unionists,
but a speculators mark,
a capitalist wish,
a hedgers bet,
a public debt
and a farmers
fair return.

Indexes for everything.
Quantitative models
that could burst a kazoo.

You know the measure
of everything in Chicago.
But is it truly objective?
Have mathematics banished
subjective intentions,
routing it in fair practice
of market efficiencies,
a kind of scientific absolution?

I heard that there
is a dispute brewing
over the amount of snowfall
that fell on the 1st.

The mayor’s office,
using the official city ruler
measured 22”
of snow on the ground.

The National Weather Service
says it cannot detect more
then 17” of snow.

The mayor thinks
he’ll catch less heat
for the trains that don’t run
the buses that don’t arrive
and the schools that stand empty
with the addition of 5”.

The analysts say
it’s all about capturing liquidity.

Liquidity,
can you place a great lake
into an eyedropper?

Its 20 below
and all liquid things
are solid masses
or a gooey viscosity at best.

Water is frozen everywhere.
But Chi town is still liquid,
flowing faster
then the digital blips
flashing on the walls
of the CBOT.

Dreams
are never frozen in Chicago.
The exchanges trade
without missing a beat.

Trading wet dreams,
the crystallized vapor
of an IPO
pledging a billion points
of Internet access
or raiding the public treasuries
of a central bank’s
huge stores of gold
with currency swaps.

Using the tools
of butterfly spreads
and candlesticks
to achieve the goal.

Short the Russell
or buy the Dow,
go long the
CAC and DAX.
Are you trading in euro’s?
You better be
or soon will.
I know
you’re Chicago,
you’ll trade anything.
WEBS,
Spiders,
and Leaps
are traded here,
along with sweet crude,
North Sea Brent,
plywood and T-Bill futures;
and most importantly
the commodities,
the loam
that formed this city
of broad shoulders.

What about our wheat?
Still whacking and
breadbasket to the world.

Oil,
an important fossil fuel
denominated in
good ole greenbacks.

Porkbellies,
not just hogwash
on the Wabash,
but bacon, eggs
and flapjacks
are on the menu
of every diner in Jersey
as the “All American.”

Cotton,
our contribution
to the Golden Triangle,
once the global currency
used to enrich a
gentlemen class
of cultured
southern slavers,
now Tommy Hilfiger’s
preferred fabric.

I think he sends it
to Bangkok where
child slaves
spin it into
gold lame'.

Sorghum,
I think its hardy.

Soybeans,
the new age substitute
for hamburger
goes great with tofu lasagna.

Corn,
ADM creates ethanol,
they want us to drive cleaner cars.

Cattle,
once driven into this city’s
bloodhouses for slaughter,
now ground into
a billion Big Macs
every year.

When does a seed
become a commodity?
When does a commodity
become a future?
When does a future expire?

You can find the answers
to these questions in Chicago
and find a fortune in a hole in the floor.

Look down into the pits.
Hear the screams of anguish
and profitable delights.

Frenzied men
swarming like a mass
of epileptic ants
atop the worlds largest sugar cube
auger the worlds free markets.

The scene is
more chaotic then
100 Haymarket Square Riots
multiplied by 100
1968 Democratic Conventions.

Amidst inverted anthills,
they scurry forth and to
in distinguished
black and red coats.

Fighting each other
as counterparties
to a life and death transaction.

This is an efficient market
that crosses the globe.

Oil from the Sultan of Brunei,
Yen from the land of Hitachi,
Long Bonds from the Fed,
nickel from Quebec,
platinum and palladium
from Siberia,
FTSE’s from London
and crewel cane from Havana
circle these pits.

Tijuana,
Shanghai
and Istanbul's
best traders
are only half as good
as the average trader in Chicago.

Chicago,
this hog butcher to the world,
specializes in packaging and distribution.

Men in blood soaked smocks,
still count the heads
entering the gates of the city.

Their handiwork
is sent out on barges
and rail lines as frozen packages
of futures
waiting for delivery
to an anonymous counterparty
half a world away.

This nation’s hub
has grown into the
premier purveyor
to the world;
along all the rivers,
highways,
railways
and estuaries
it’s tentacles reach.

5.
Sandburg’s Chicago,
is a city of the world’s people.

Many striver rows compose
its many neighborhoods.

Nordic stoicism,
Eastern European orthodoxy
and Afro-American
calypso vibrations
are three of many cords
strumming the strings
of Chicago.

Sandburg’s Chicago,
if you wrote forever
you would only scratch its surface.

People wait for trains
to enter the city from O’Hare.
Frozen tears
lock their eyes
onto distant skyscrapers,
solid chunks
of snot blocks their nose
and green icicles of slime
crust mustaches.
They fight to breathe.

Sandburg’s Chicago
is The Land of Lincoln,
Savior of the Union,
protector of the Republic.
Sent armies
of sons and daughters,
barges, boxcars,
gunboats, foodstuffs,
cannon and shot
to raze the south
and stamp out succession.

Old Abe’s biography
are still unknown volumes to me.
I must see and read the great words.
You can never learn enough;
but I’ve been to Washington
and seen the man’s memorial.
The Free World’s 8th wonder,
guarded by General Grant,
who still keeps an eye on Richmond
and a hand on his sword.

Through this American winter
Abe ponders.
The vista he surveys is dire and tragic.

Our sitting President
impeached
for lying about a *******.

Party partisans
in the senate are sworn and seated.
Our Chief Justice,
adorned with golden bars
will adjudicate the proceedings.
It is the perfect counterpoint
to an ageless Abe thinking
with malice toward none
and charity towards all,
will heal the wounds
of the nation.

Abe our granite angel,
Chicago goes on,
The Union is strong!


SECOND DAY

1.
Out my window
the sun has risen.

According to
the local forecast
its minus 9
going up to
6 today.

The lake,
a golden pillow of clouds
is frozen in time.

I marvel
at the ancients ones
resourcefulness
and how
they mastered
these extreme elements.

Past, present and future
has no meaning
in the Citadel
of the Prairie today.

I set my watch
to Central Standard Time.

Stepping into
the hotel lobby
the concierge
with oil smooth hair,
perfect tie
and English lilt
impeccably asks,
“Do you know where you are going Sir?
Can I give you a map?”

He hands me one of Chicago.
I see he recently had his nails done.
He paints a green line
along Whacker Drive and says,
“turn on Jackson, LaSalle, Wabash or Madison
and you’ll get to where you want to go.”
A walk of 14 or 15 blocks from Streeterville-
(I start at The Chicago White House.
They call it that because Hillary Rodham
stays here when she’s in town.
Its’ also alleged that Stedman
eats his breakfast here
but Opra
has never been seen
on the premises.
I wonder how I gained entry
into this place of elite’s?)
-down into the center of The Loop.

Stepping out of the hotel,
The Doorman
sporting the epaulets of a colonel
on his corporate winter coat
and furry Cossack hat
swaddling his round black face
accosts me.

The skin of his face
is flaking from
the subzero windburn.

He asks me
with a gapped toothy grin,
“Can I get you a cab?”
“No I think I’ll walk,” I answer.
“Good woolen hat,
thick gloves you should be alright.”
He winks and lets me pass.

I step outside.
The Windy City
flings stabbing cold spears
flying on wings of 30-mph gusts.
My outside hardens.
I can feel the freeze
deepen
into my internalness.
I can’t be sure
but inside
my heart still feels warm.
For how long
I cannot say.

I commence
my walk
among the spires
of this great city,
the vertical leaps
that anchor the great lake,
holding its place
against the historic
frigid assault.

The buildings’ sway,
modulating to the blows
of natures wicked blasts.

It’s a hard imposition
on a city and its people.

The gloves,
skullcap,
long underwear,
sweater,
jacket
and overcoat
not enough
to keep the cold
from penetrating
the person.

Like discerning
the layers of this city,
even many layers,
still not enough
to understand
the depth of meaning
of the heart
of this heartland city.

Sandburg knew the city well.
Set amidst groves of suburbs
that extend outward in every direction.
Concentric circles
surround the city.
After the burbs come farms,
Great Plains, and mountains.
Appalachians and Rockies
are but mere molehills
in the city’s back yard.
It’s terra firma
stops only at the sea.
Pt. Barrow to the Horn,
many capes extended.

On the periphery
its appendages,
its extremities,
its outward extremes.
All connected by the idea,
blown by the incessant wind
of this great nation.
The Windy City’s message
is sent to the world’s four corners.
It is a message of power.
English the worlds
common language
is spoken here,
along with Ebonics,
Espanol,
Mandarin,
Czech,
Russian,
Korean,
Arabic,
Hindi­,
German,
French,
electronics,
steel,
cars,
cartoons,
rap,
sports­,
movies,
capital,
wheat
and more.

Always more.
Much much more
in Chicago.

2.
Sandburg
spoke all the dialects.

He heard them all,
he understood
with great precision
to the finest tolerances
of a lathe workers micrometer.

Sandburg understood
what it meant to laugh
and be happy.

He understood
the working mans day,
the learned treatises
of university chairs,
the endless tomes
of the city’s
great libraries,
the lost languages
of the ancient ones,
the secret codes
of abstract art,
the impact of architecture,
the street dialects and idioms
of everymans expression of life.

All fighting for life,
trying to build a life,
a new life
in this modern world.

Walking across
the Michigan Avenue Bridge
I see the Wrigley Building
is neatly carved,
catty cornered on the plaza.

I wonder if Old Man Wrigley
watched his barges
loaded with spearmint
and double-mint
move out onto the lake
from one of those Gothic windows
perched high above the street.

Would he open a window
and shout to the men below
to quit slaking and work harder
or would he
between the snapping sound
he made with his mouth
full of his chewing gum
offer them tickets
to a ballgame at Wrigley Field
that afternoon?

Would the men below
be able to understand
the man communing
from such a great height?

I listen to a man
and woman conversing.
They are one step behind me
as we meander along Wacker Drive.

"You are in Chicago now.”
The man states with profundity.
“If I let you go
you will soon find your level
in this city.
Do you know what I mean?”

No I don’t.
I think to myself.
What level are you I wonder?
Are you perched atop
the transmission spire
of the Hancock Tower?

I wouldn’t think so
or your ears would melt
from the windburn.

I’m thinking.
Is she a kept woman?
She is majestically clothed
in fur hat and coat.
In animal pelts
not trapped like her,
but slaughtered
from farms
I’m sure.

What level
is he speaking of?

Many levels
are evident in this city;
many layers of cobbled stone,
Pennsylvania iron,
Hoosier Granite
and vertical drops.

I wonder
if I detect
condensation
in his voice?

What is
his intention?
Is it a warning
of a broken affair?
A pending pink slip?
Advise to an addict
refusing to adhere
to a recovery regimen?

What is his level anyway?
Is he so high and mighty,
Higher and mightier
then this great city
which we are all a part of,
which we all helped to build,
which we all need
in order to keep this nation
the thriving democratic
empire it is?

This seditious talk!

3.
The Loop’s El
still courses through
the main thoroughfares of the city.

People are transported
above the din of the street,
looking down
on the common pedestrians
like me.

Super CEO’s
populating the upper floors
of Romanesque,
Greek Revivalist,
New Bauhaus,
Art Deco
and Post Nouveau
Neo-Modern
Avant-Garde towers
are too far up
to see me
shivering on the street.

The cars, busses,
trains and trucks
are all covered
with the film
of rock salt.

Salt covers
my bootless feet
and smudges
my cloths as well.

The salt,
the primal element
of the earth
covers everything
in Chicago.

It is the true level
of this city.

The layer
beneath
all layers,
on which
everything
rests,
is built,
grows,
thrives
then dies.
To be
returned again
to the lower
layers
where it can
take root
again
and grow
out onto
the great plains.

Splashing
the nation,
anointing
its people
with its
blessing.

A blessing,
Chicago?

All rivers
come here.

All things
found its way here
through the canals
and back bays
of the world’s
greatest lakes.

All roads,
rails and
air routes
begin and
end here.

Mrs. O’Leary’s cow
got a *** rap.
It did not start the fire,
we did.

We lit the torch
that flamed
the city to cinders.
From a pile of ash
Chicago rose again.

Forever Chicago!
Forever the lamp
that burns bright
on a Great Lake’s
western shore!

Chicago
the beacon
sends the
message to the world
with its windy blasts,
on chugging barges,
clapping trains,
flying tandems,
T1 circuits
and roaring jets.

Sandburg knew
a Chicago
I will never know.

He knew
the rhythm of life
the people walked to.
The tools they used,
the dreams they dreamed
the songs they sang,
the things they built,
the things they loved,
the pains that hurt,
the motives that grew,
the actions that destroyed
the prayers they prayed,
the food they ate
their moments of death.

Sandburg knew
the layers of the city
to the depths
and windy heights
I cannot fathom.

The Blues
came to this city,
on the wing
of a chirping bird,
on the taps
of a rickety train,
on the blast
of an angry sax
rushing on the wind,
on the Westend blitz
of Pop's brash coronet,
on the tink of
a twinkling piano
on a paddle-wheel boat
and on the strings
of a lonely man’s guitar.

Walk into the clubs,
tenements,
row houses,
speakeasies
and you’ll hear the Blues
whispered like
a quiet prayer.

Tidewater Blues
from Virginia,
Delta Blues
from the lower
Mississippi,
Boogie Woogie
from Appalachia,
Texas Blues
from some Lone Star,
Big Band Blues
from Kansas City,
Blues from
Beal Street,
Jelly Roll’s Blues
from the Latin Quarter.

Hell even Chicago
got its own brand
of Blues.

Its all here.
It ended up here
and was sent away
on the winds of westerly blows
to the ear of an eager world
on strong jet streams
of simple melodies
and hard truths.

A broad
shouldered woman,
a single mother stands
on the street
with three crying babes.
Their cloths
are covered
in salt.
She pleads
for a break,
praying
for a new start.
Poor and
under-clothed
against the torrent
of frigid weather
she begs for help.
Her blond hair
and ****** features
suggests her
Scandinavian heritage.
I wonder if
she is related to Sandburg
as I walk past
her on the street.
Her feet
are bleeding
through her
canvass sneakers.
Her babes mouths
are zipped shut
with frozen drivel
and mucous.

The Blues live
on in Chicago.

The Blues
will forever live in her.
As I turn the corner
to walk the Miracle Mile
I see her engulfed
in a funnel cloud of salt,
snow and bits
of white paper,
swirling around her
and her children
in an angry
unforgiving
maelstrom.

The family
begins to
dissolve
like a snail
sprinkled with salt;
and a mother
and her children
just disappear
into the pavement
at the corner
of Dearborn,
in Chicago.

Music:

Robert Johnson
Sweet Home Chicago


jbm
Chicago
1/7/99
Added today to commemorate the birthday of Carl Sandburg
From 3 p.m. Monday to 3 p.m. Tuesday
<h2>Police calls
<h3>LA CROSSE
3:39 p.m., Hit-and-run, 4400 block of Hwy. 16
4:11 p.m., Theft, 3700 block of Hwy. 16
4:41 p.m., Hit-and-run, 1100 block of State St.
5:37 p.m., Domestic disturbance, 1000 block of Charles St.
5:42 p.m., Theft, 2100 block of Liberty St.
5:59 p.m., Fight, Fourth and King sts.
8:08 p.m., Theft, 2400 block of Rose St.
8:08 p.m., Domestic disturbance, 400 block of Sixth St.
8:37 p.m., Domestic disturbance, 1000 block of Fifth Ave. S.
10:14 p.m., Domestic disturbance, 1600 block of Adams St.
11:32 p.m., Domestic disturbance, 1400 block of Avon St.
2:38 a.m., Domestic disturbance, 900 block of 16th St.
8:25 a.m., Theft, 3300 block of Rosehill Place
8:25 a.m., Theft, 1000 block of Ninth St.
8:26 a.m., Theft, 500 block of Main St.
8:26 a.m., Theft, 1400 block of Johnson St.
8:34 a.m., Theft, 400 block of Seventh St.
9:24 a.m., Entry to dwelling, 1600 block of Caledonia St.
9:51 a.m., Theft, 400 block of Liberty St.
11:01 a.m., Fraud, first block of Copeland Ave.
12:16 p.m., Entry to dwelling, 1000 block of State St.          
<h3>ONALASKA
6:06 p.m., Animal bite, 2600 block of Midwest Drive
<h3>WEST SALEM
7:40 a.m., Vandalism, 3400 block of Hwy. 16
12:13 p.m., Theft, 900 block of Hwy. 16
<h3>BANGOR
9:24 a.m., Theft, 1800 block of Commercial St.
<h2>Fire Calls
<h3>LA CROSSE
3:01 p.m., Accident with injury, Fourth and Mississippi sts.
4:11 p.m., Accident with injury, 4500 block of Hwy. 33
4:26 p.m., Accident with injury, Hwy. 16 and 157
5:45 p.m., First responders, 700 block of Oakland St.
6:18 p.m., First responders, 1800 block of Pine St.
6:40 p.m., Accident with injury, Main and Fourth sts.
9:27 p.m., Natural gas odor, 700 block of Ninth St. N.
10:16 p.m., First responders, 1600 block of Adams St.
10:20 p.m., First responders, 900 block of Vine St.
1:54 a.m., First responders, 4100 block of Velmar Court
8:34 a.m., First responders, 400 block of Seventh St.
9:01 a.m., First responders, 400 block of Seventh St.
10:41 a.m., Accident with injury, Ninth and Vine sts.
10:45 a.m., Carbon monoxide report, 1500 block of Main St.
10:46 a.m., First responders, 400 block of Gillette St.
11:04 a.m., Accident with injury, 1300 block of Rose St.
11:10 a.m., First responders, 1500 block of Rose St.
11:14 a.m., First responders, Fourth and King sts.
11:31 a.m., Accident with injury, 16th and Main sts.
12:05 p.m., Accident with injury, 200 block of Pearl St.
1:12 p.m., Accident with injury, Hood and Miller sts.
2:26 p.m., Accident with injury, 21st St. and Park Ave.
<h3>ONALASKA
3:30 p.m., First responders, 1000 block of Westview Circle
5:09 p.m., Accident with injury, 1200 block of Hwy PH
8:02 p.m., First responders, 300 block of 12th Ave.
8:43 p.m., First responders, 300 block of 12th Ave.
8:50 p.m., First responders, 200 block of Oak Forest Drive
9:47 p.m., First responders, 200 block of Carol Lane
6:12 a.m., First responders, 1000 block of Frances Court
10:41 a.m., First responders, 7200 Northshore Lane
11:27 a.m., Accident with injury, Grant St. and Hwy. SN
11:35 a.m., Accident with injury, Commerce and Abbey roads
11:53 a.m., Accident with injury, 300 block of 11th Ave.
12:14 p.m., First responders, 5500 block of Commerce Road
1:08 p.m., First responders, 400 block of Kimberly St.
1:42 p.m., Accident with injury, 600 block of Second Ave.
<h3>HOLMEN
9:59 p.m., First responders, 1500 block of Viking Ave.
10:50 a.m., Accident with injury, Sand Lake Road and Laurel Place
1:32 p.m., Accident with injury, 1400 block of Main St.
<h3>WEST SALEM
8:53 a.m., First responders, 500 block of Elm St.
11:09 a.m., First responders, 300 block of Franklin St.
<h3>MELROSE
1:21 p.m., First responders, 9700 block of Hwy. 108
Hira Feb 2015
Aj brri shiddat se toot k yad aya hae wo
chaha b to toot k tha main nay usay
wo pehli mulaqat..
mje acha lga tha wo
usko b shaed!
lgi achi thee main
wo b khamosh tha..
chup to main b thee..
uski ankhun nay kaha kch
suna main nay b tha buhat kch
suno!!
main tmen kch kahun!
mje tm say muhabbat hai
kash! mje tm mil he jao kbi
arzu to ye he hai abi
buhat khamosh muhabbat krti hn tmen
tm mere pas ajao na!
tm he say to kehna hae..
tm he say sb kehna hae
mje tm say muhabbat hae
sirf tm say muhabbat hae
aur yae b jan lo..
aur tm maan lo..
tm sirf..  mere **
Sirf mere **...
Hira Feb 2015
Meri zindgi
meri har khushi
meri chahten, tm he to thay
mje tm he say muhabbat thee
tm he to meri jan thay
koi bta day tm ko b
k tm ** ab tk na-ashna
tm nay mje tora hae
mera dil kahan tm nay chora hae
mje tm nay chorna he tha to!
q mje tm nae chaha tha!
q mje tm nay jana tha!
main aj kahay deti hn
tm ko main ab bhool jaon ge
tm ko kbi na staaon ge
kbi main yad na aon ge
tm thay meri zindgi
muhabbat ki thee tm say he
aj kahay deti hn main ab
tm say mjko ** gye nfrat
tm say muhabbat khtm hui
toot gaye sb naate rishte
dil say kahay deti hn main ab
lay li jga nfrat nay..
Muhabbat kho gye kahen..
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Äŧül Apr 2013
Deutsche


Ich weiß, dass ich dich liebe.
Ich es bezweifle nicht

^^

Ich werde sicherlich küssen,
Sie zweifle nicht daran.
;-)

Translation 1

English


I know that I love you,
I don't doubt it.

^
^

I will surely kiss you,
You don't doubt it.
;-)

Translation 2

Hindi


Main jaanta hoon mujhe tumse pyar hai
Mujhe koi shak nahin is baare mein.

^_^

Main tumhe zaroor choomunga,
Tum is baare mein shak mat rakhna.
;-)
A German-English-Hindi poem.
My HP Poem #162
© Atul Kaushal
September Roses Jul 2018
When the day comes
That my light leaves
And I go to descend
What ever will they do with me
All the way down there
Where fire pours like rain
Main population: pain
The one place
in the earth,
sure to drive you insane
I suppose they would start normally
With a burning stake
Or pitchfork
But what ever would they do,
When those things just dont work?
I suppose they'd try to drown me
In oil
Or flames
But when a smile
forms across face
They'll see
I like the pain
So this might go on for centuries
They'd try as well
To hurt my mind
But when all they find is numbness
Well
I might get hired

— The End —