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.
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.
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.
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.
By Laila Jamil KhanThe 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
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