Poems forever
What is our life? The play of passion.
Our mirth? The music of division:
Our mothers’ wombs the tiring-houses be,
Where we are dressed for life’s short comedy.
The earth the stage; Heaven the spectator is,
Who sits and views whosoe’er doth act amiss.
The graves which hide us from the scorching sun
Are like drawn curtains when the play is done.
Thus playing post we to our latest rest,
And then we die in earnest, not in jest.
By Sir Walter Raleigh
Molecular World
By Kaka Khan
I have to break the bond
I have to make a bond
As the vapours condense to water
The minerals manipulate to a roaster
As day is to night, night to day
Subdue each other as a prey
So is my bosom and regret correspond
Entangled with an ardent bond
But regret is a bit mischievous
It annoys the bosom zealous
Why I care you too much
Why I value you too much
Why I don’t care myself a bit
Why I don’t value myself a bit
I have to break the bond
I have to make a bond
The bond of bosom and impenitence
Which might content my existence
If you are polite, I will die
If you are rude, still I will die
For the death needs life, life death
Affection and benevolence is life’s breath
I have to break the bond
I have to make a bond.
An apology
By Mashaal Farid
Don’t please
Interpret my sleek intention
In frame of your wretched perception
Don’t please
Confuse it with some clash of clans
That was just my frozen beat and
blocked sight in a dreadful fight of “than”
Ah this choice of me and you...
Tore my heels in the long run
O my long irate fellow!
You don’t know my story
But can you accept my sorry?
Scream out
By Binte Hawa
I want to scream out loud,
Beyond the clichéd taboos,
That fill up my soul
My surroundings,
I want the volcano
Of my emotions
To outburst,
Before it’s too late,
I want people to let me be,
I just want
To breathe
Before oxygen
Is cut short,
And my time
Runs out,
I want to scream out.
Growth
By Hafsa Sardar
No tree bends the same,
No individual grows in a uniform frame,
No branch sprouts equal leaves,
No person has a similar seek,
I see the world through my glasses,
You see it through yours,
Then why do you expect me to grow;
With eyes as another,
Gray is my world through them,
Blind am I through those seams.
Flames Uncontrolled
By Adnan Ahmad Khan
There were a myriad of stars
And a moon
At its nightly prime
And he was staring at
The flames uncontrolled
In her eyes.
Compiled by SK
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