If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. ? Emily Dickinson
Poems forever
Poetry is
If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. ? Emily Dickinson
Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it. ? Rumi
Poetry is what in a poem makes you laugh, cry, prickle, be silent, makes your toe nails twinkle, makes you want to do this or that or nothing, makes you know that you are alone in the unknown world, that your bliss and suffering is forever shared and forever all your own. ? Dylan Thomas
Salvation
By Andleeb Tariq
A rose for every page
You flipped
This book has
Turned into a garden
And so has my soul.
Fusion
By Javaria Waseem
There is a cup of wine in this barren desert
But this world prohibits me to take a sip
I am a thirsty man, it gives me pleasure
But in the state of oblivion, I have sinned.
One sip of wine is what draws the line
One sip of wine is what makes this world decide
whether I am a pious person, sliding down the shiny pearls
or a drunken lover, whirling in circles.
There is no name for the union of fire and water
They just create tales about the two poor lovers
And when they unite, evaporation is only witnessed
Instead of the state in which they both enter.
Such is the working of this wonderful Earth
Where seeing is believing, and believing creates Trust
Whatever is veiled, does not exists
Such is love, a long lost art
And this world is lacking artists.
As to Dream
By Misbah Shan
So this is how it ends!
All at once and all in pieces.
With so, dreams to dust,
Memories to drown,
If only it was asked,
Who dares to live and who to die?’
I’d rather live, I’d rather die.
I’d die today, to live tomorrow.
As to Dream again,
You must,
End the one, you’re in now.
Not a poet!
By Atul Chamat
A poet, I’m not the one, you know,
I wish to be, but I’m not.
I put the words in allowable flow,
But conflict with rhyme a lot.
I give my preeminent, though!
If I were, I’d say-
“You’re the daintiest I’ve ever seen.
No one belongs more than you in my heart, I mean.”
I desire to return to the day,
When I saw you and live it all again,
And act before you in an entirely distinct way.
How do you do the things you do?
There must be something special about you.
I should’ve been aware of it from the start,
But it took seconds for you to take my heart.
I’d not act fool like before and then feign to flit,
I’d stand and express my love only with some more rhymes.
How my heart aglow, I’d exhibit.
But attempting the worst of all crimes,
I’ve not told you this all in time.
I’d do that if I had flair to show,
But alas, I’m not a poet, so I guess you’ll never know.
Procrastination
By Wajahat Ejaz
In the ice of the night, I think to write,
Well, maybe another day, maybe another night.
In the shadow of the day, with creativity rife,
I intend to ponder, and delay it for the night.
As my chores line up and begin to gnaw at my eyes,
I take a small nap, for we all need respite.
As I receive the invitation and deliberate over my choice,
Nah, the movies await me, socializing is a plight.
Studying can wait, and so can everything else,
Just let me be, and it will all turn out all right.
As I attend the funeral of a man, I begin to realize,
Our lives weren’t so different, him dead and me alive.
In all the times and innumerable opportunities,
I delayed everything ... and forgot to live my life.
