By S. K
Fri, 05, 19

Maybe holding onto is tiring, Excruciatingly draining of what is left.......


By Ayesha Malik

The small cracks

Let in the light

Yet the openings

Are lined with silt

They singe lightly

The ridges of stone

The fumes are hot

The cracks burst open

The pieces lay scattered

Each shines in its own

An emancipating sight

The beauty of the vessel

Is laid across the street

The fragments trodden upon

In every meet and greet.


By Saba

Whirling my body

In spirals of nothingness

I have become a dervish…

Deep in my thoughts

I dance in trance

Frantic and feverish…

Floating in divinity

Completely content

I woke up from my reverie…

And now I feel free

To sing, to dance

And to live all my breaths…

The self-created stress of pain

Left my shoulders

And finally I learnt

How to love myself…

Can I matter

By Asma Zainab

Can I matter just this once

and not be overshadowed

by the doubts you hold so dear

Can I believe in a future

where you looking at the sky

isn’t something I’d envy

The day you listen to my stories

and not the woes of the lonesome moon

The day you hold flowers in your hand

and not between the pages of your journal

Will there be a day our roads meet and intersect

just like the crossword puzzles you love to solve

Will you ever remember to forget

or will you still prefer to hold the hands

that leads to new lands


By Ali Asghar Ghani

How are you feeling? I asked

being dragged around

in the dark and stormy winds

like a kite

whose string is in the hands of black thoughts

Slow and steady

By Mehma Kunwar

I have always been a slow person

slow in eating, slow in reading

slow in walking, slow in reacting

and I could always justify this

I tend to count the number of times I chew

as well as the blessings in my mouth

I tend to challenge each word I read

and think what’d happen if it was the other way

I tend to observe the world while walking

as well as the wonders left ignored

I tend to give people chances with their stances

and believe in love, no matter how broken it is

But I’m also slow in calming my heart

which is faster than light, dumb as a rock.

my brain reads and gets rejection, my love, but

it takes time to make the heart understand

that slow and steady, don’t always win the race.

I’ll wait

By Laraib Zakir

Maybe holding onto is tiring,

Excruciatingly draining of what is left.

It’s a little melancholy that goes a long way,

Something that withers you away.

Although wilted, you still want it to stay.

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