Now silence grows where words once spread.... You were the cotton - pure, untamed...
Poems forever
By Emily Dickinson
The earth has many keys,
Where melody is not
Is the unknown peninsula.
Beauty is nature's fact.
But witness for her land,
And witness for her sea,
The cricket is her utmost
Of elegy to me.
By Abid Agha
The fields once bloomed with whispers white,
Soft as silk in morning light.
Spreading gold as the sun sank down,
Brushed the canvas - nature’s crown.
I held you close, a tender thread,
Now silence grows where words once spread.
You were the cotton - pure, untamed,
I was the stalk, by love renamed.
Seasons pass, and winds grow cold,
Yet I remain - alone, yet bold.
No hands to pluck, no bloom to bear,
Just fragile bones and empty air.
Though storms tore the fields,
And skies turned grey,
The cotton stalk stood firm, come what may,
A quiet strength no one wrote songs for.
By Syeda Maqsoom
To love someone is like the sunlight’s dance,
Chasing shadows th
at softly shift and sway,
Weaving dreams with laughter’s bright expanse,
Whispers in the wind on a golden day.
It paints the world in hues both warm and deep,
A symphony of moments, raw and true,
Where heartbeats waltz and promises we keep,
Each glance a spark, each touch a morning dew.
Yet love, like sunlight, cannot be confined—
It flickers through the cracks, defying stay,
A fleeting kiss on time’s unyielding grind,
A blaze that burns as twilight turns to grey.
To love is not to hold, but to set free—
A radiant dance through life’s vast canopy.
By Amna Ameer
Escape
What exactly is escape?
To run away from life,
The nuance,
Delays,
Heartbreak and ache.
To try to let go of tiredness,
To not be bound by the mundane.
To reach out?
Or reach in,
Within yourself,
To find the part
That is no longer redundant.
To try to make sense
Of the nonsense.
What does it mean, really?
To withhold and let go,
Let go of the past,
The mistakes,
That thing called love,
The repetitive routine,
The place that is broken,
Or a heart that is whole.
The place where light enters,
And wounds heal,
The scarring
And the tethering
That doesn't let you escape.
So you're bound back
By routine,
Or normalcy,
Or gravity.
You somehow
Come back,
And then can’t ever leave.
To want to escape
Life
Or
Death
A punishable offence
Either way.
A struggle
That never rests.
There’s no peace,
Oscillating
Between heartbeats
And missed seconds.
Meanings lost
In between lines
Of translations
That never transverse time.
Words no tongues hold,
And feelings no heart feels.
The undefined territory
Of wanting to be
At two places
At once
And still accept defeat.
