Poems forever

By S. K
Fri, 10, 18

Written by Aram Saroyan, an Armenian-American poet, novelist, biographer....


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


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.


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.


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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