By S. K
Fri, 01, 19

For last year’s words belong to last year’s language.....

Some famous poignant lines

For last year’s words belong to last year’s language

And next year’s words await another voice.

And to make an end is to make a beginning.

~T.S. Eliot


Dying is an art.

Like everything else,

I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.

I do it so it feels real.

I guess you could say I have a call.

~Sylvia Plath


Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

~Dylan Thomas

A swipe in sciamachy

By Areesh Zahrah

Depression, anxiety, sorrow and stress

Anger, jealousy, pain and regrets

Misery, malice and grief-stricken-ness

All of us’ve faced these pointless threats

Destroying our harmony into tiny blebs

I ask myself, “What are these trends?”

A certain combo o’ negative blends ?

Or something beautiful inside dwells?

For sure, my friend, they’ve genuine strikes

But good are those who positively deal with these uninvited clients

They are not a malice, but guides from the aside

Each has been sent as a message of success, clearing you out for some new delight

So be content and honourably invite

Take a deep breath, sustain and don’t dull your smile

As for the positive souls, they are motivation and dignity divine

Because positive is the side-effect of handling the negative strife.


By Andleeb Tariq

My eyes keep searching for art

Wherever I go

In abandoned places

And barren lands

In wrinkled eyes

And crooked smiles

In the corners of streets

Where garbage lives

In empty white walls

And shoes taken off

Outside the carpeted halls

The children of war

By Zainab Khan

We were raised in these streets

Chased butterflies with makeshift toys

Out in the burning sun

Young eyes, brimming with life

Mischief, a virtue taught in lullabies

By mothers, who now weep

Their mouths torn in silent screams

Voices lost, misplaced in the rubble

Where our limbs hide, waiting to be sought

Tell them we’re okay, tell them it didn’t hurt

We pretended they were fireworks

As the walls closed in on us


Ali Asghar Ghani

Within her eyes, she holds

Angel of resurrection

That gives life to

The broken realm,

black and sad

Located behind my eyes

Till next time

By Ilsa Saher

It’s been a long time

It was a great ride...

Bathing in the sunshine

After an epic sunrise.

Ever seen a goodbye

Farewell to all the good times,

It’s not a huge crime

Crying over a few time

Lessons that are struck high

Flowing over the high life.

Bleeding souls

By Laila Jamil Khan

The heart becomes blackened by shadows within

You gasp for air, for life, voice indistinct

Frustrated by your own desires

Nothing anymore sets you afire

The world, a place of devastation

We, the creators of this horrifying creation

Trying to paint on this canvas of black

Stark as blood on snow, white streaks on black

Dwelling in this feeling of emptiness

Searching for a glimpse of happiness

Bleeding souls trying to compose their own epitaphs

Deluded hearts, tricked by their own self destructive handicrafts

Walking and moving, empty inside and out

Unaware of the hollowness of this foray

Realizing not that black and white are just shades of grey

Compiled by SK

Kindly send your contibutions at: [email protected]