Written by Aram Saroyan, an Armenian-American poet, novelist, biographer....
POETS’ CORNER
Written by Aram Saroyan, an Armenian-American poet, novelist, biographer, memoirist and playwright, the four-legged “m” has been cited in the Guinness Book of Records as the world’s shortest poem. The meaning of it has been subject to discussion. Some have called it: “a closeup of an alphabet being born” - Bob Grumman. Its sells still in the process of dividing, ‘m’ and the ‘n’, not quit separated. It is also a pun on “I am”, implying the formation of consciousness itself.
Stolen Canvas
By Shafi Rehman
She stole her canvas in the midst of completing her masterpiece
The art she drew was never made with ease
She drew herself in colour black and white
Leaving behind tinges of grey out of sight
The canvas is burning in flames of
fire
Her images of yesterday are for worthy buyers
She shackled her soul in dismay of her past
This picture is a tale of her golden hour
She is pondering upon these burning pieces
The tales of tomorrow are burning like secrets
Her image is blowing into dust of sand
The winds of east have no place to land.
How
By Asma Zainab
How can a song make you sad
when you should be happy?
How can something you have
never felt and never known
be so familiar?
How can written words
move you more than
spoken words ever could?
How can people understand you
when you don’t even
understand yourself?
How can you run before
you walk before you have even
learned to move your feet?
How can you move forward
when there’s your past
overlooking every corner?
How can you just die
before you have even lived?
How does anything happen?
How do you know?
The “how” is how you are human
- a being that questions
before it believes
Caravan of beasts
By Kinza Fatima
Lost, the remnants of white life,
In an expedition to self-discovery ,
Halted at the station of innocence,
’Tis a caravan of beasts, took me away,
to dehumanize my being,
Escaped through the edge of gloom,
Where no flowers of decency bloom,
Ye, chased crumbs of my heart,
Till all hollowed I am.
Ought to feelings know,
Ye humans appetites insatiable,
If thine emptiness no more longs,
Heart’s remnants longs thee.
Hark! A hologram heart am I now?
‘Twas a daymare whilst wide awake,
Dented walls between heart and mind,
Ye man plays a role of “self-martyr”
And prey upon a soul of vulnerability,
‘Tis dignity of selflessness,
eaten up by ego.
Shades of innocence ask-
Does Man come out of beasts
Or beasts out of man?
I write you
By Neelum Afridi
No, I won’t kill you
When I write our story
I’ll only make you me.
Ambiguity
By Fatima Saad
In sombre and misty nights
My eyes get colder
A quick freak of chilly wind
Make me shiver
Oh what that pinching silence
Striking the ear
Like in a hollow cave
There is some terror
All walls repell my cries
My heart sick my brain dumb
I feel no nothing!
I understand no nothing!
To be or not to be
That is the question.
Compiled by SK
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