The ghazal is an ancient and popular structure in Arabic poetry dating back to the seventh century.....
The ghazal is an ancient and popular structure in Arabic poetry dating back to the seventh century. Its subject matter is usually melancholy, loss, love, and beauty. This is an excerpt from a modern ghazal by the poet Agha Shahid Ali. The second line of each couplet ends with the words “even the rain,” though Shahid Ali clearly plays around with the meaning of these three words together (for example, the third couplet in this excerpt uses the word “even” in a different way than the other two couplets). Each couplet contains its own meaning, yet the way in which Shahid Ali builds the theme from one couplet to the next is masterful.
Drought was over. Where was I? Drinks were on the house.
For mixers, my love, you’d poured-what?-even the rain.
Of this pear-shaped orange’s perfumed twist, I will say:
Extract Vermouth from the bergamot, even the rain.
How did the Enemy love you-with earth? air? and fire?
He held just one thing back till he got even: the rain.
The dark rain
By Tabinda Tahir Hussain
Slouching in the dark rain
Round and around the hurricane,
A bead of light makes way
Entrusting the colors to stay.
The amalgamation of yellow into blue
All the stories that you thought you knew,
Constructing dancing helixes on the walls
As the high note on the symphony falls.
The insipid chalet on the silver beach
So very near, still out of reach,
The darkness that consumes you, blows into sand
Slipping through the cracks in your hand,
The dewdrops on the leaves basking in the moonlight
Reflecting the sparkle in your eyes, so bright.
Metamorphose into a hue that’s true
The storm will fade to let you through,
Realize the fire that burns within
A new life will thus begin.
Conversations
By Amna Ameer
Where do
The conversations go?
Who takes to bed,
The silences,
That haunt dreams?
Who tucks away,
The bruises,
On our skin?
Who keeps secrets,
Of your self assault?
Every time you walk by,
Trying to put back,
Broken pieces,
Of feelings
That once were,
The only truth,
You knew,
Till you,
Found a lie,
To make your,
Sins forgivable,
I no longer know,
How to erase,
The warmth,
Of your skin,
From my memory,
Who takes away?
The remnants,
Of a dream,
After morning,
Wakes up,
Every reality,
Except the part,
Of my heart,
That’s still dreaming,
Of you and me,
In a reality,
Unknown to time.
Black soul
By Ali Asghar Ghani
Behind
a beautiful piece of writing
we will find
a soul
teeming with
thoughts deeper than the ocean,
imagination mightier than the mountains,
loneliness fierier than the sun,
And
melancholy denser than the forests
The wind of heavens
By Tahreem Asghar
With a howl there gathered a crowd
A man came home with an open mouth
Hands were raised and slapped against the chest
Someone’s heart had stopped, someone’s breaths had come to rest
The leaves clapped and danced to the Zephyr
Welcoming the dead into the heavens
While the kinsmen wept howling in woe
The heavens shook with joy; somebody’s eyes will now weep no more
But what good has it all brought?
Zephyr, the wind of heavens, has since long not blown
O Zephyr! Thee the wind of heavens
Why don’t you take the sorrows
Away from my grieving heart?
Compiled by SK
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