Poems forever

S. K
September 07,2018

It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll....

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It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

Excerpted from Invictus by William Ernest Henley

The Expressionless

By Laraib Zakir

A look so vacant

They can’t make of anything

Impassive is what befits the characteristics

Inexpressively personified

The deadpan face obstructs communication

Devoid of smile

Stone cold, why give so much work to the muscles?

Indistinct, there is little to differentiate

No one can ever read, of what’s actually happening

Vague and icy, may go hand in hand

There is nothingness in her eyes

For those who can’t see

A look so vacant

They can’t make of anything.


By Ayesha Malik

Standing in the middle of a crowd

Fed up of the chatter piercing and loud

What is all the hype I can’t understand?

Nothing has changed from where I stand

Despite the faces and the titles

The personas differ only a little

Mesmerizing is the interest of the mob

In the mundane lives and silly jobs

Hurrying, scurrying hither and thither

I watch the little mice scatter and litter

Alone is the word that comes to mind

Since all are stuck in a perpetual rewind.

Stolen canvas

By Shanziala Fatymah

Come find my broken pieces

Then you solve the mystery

“What is it?” You ask me

This is the tale of disruption

These characters are null of feelings

She dreamt to touch the sky

It ended before she could fly

Her destiny was light

She was forced to live in darkness

She once loved to live in colours

Now all she wants is dark

She was the painter of her life

This world stole her canvas

Game of chess

By Mehma Kunwar

Life went on

like a game of chess,

there are rules for movement

and bad choices are a curse

no one asked the queen if

she, too, was fed up

of black and white,

dark and light -

because who will save the game,

if the queen roamed free?

who will run the war,

if the pawn was softly heard?

who will win and lose,

if the white king befriended

the black?

I wouldn’t want to try to win,

if this war gives me anxiety

In order to be saved

I have to be free.


By Mashaal Farid

In a sweat drenching afternoon

When I lost thy beauty

Silence crept through me

What meant feelings,

Were more of a duty

Mine that swept,

Was the hand I held


When moments poured in hours

And hours in years

Rhymes dripping melodies I hear

Enchanting temple bells

With long dried flutes to dwell

Yeah, certainly light stroked

Had it failed to provoke


It touched with the first drop

And a while, with the beat, to hop

Took that legion sand bulbs

For me to believe

Into you, wallowing my shreds, to weave

But now...

Dear Rain,

I’ve fallen in love with you

All over, again!

Chapter of agony

Binte Hawa

The chapter of agony

Has no end till the end,

It’s mortal,

It’s morbid,

It’s diseased,

But quite assuring

Till it pleases,

The pain itself,

The hollow


That it leads,


By the melancholy

Of poignant


Compiled by SK

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