Finer it becomes day by day, But there is no way to put that strain into motion....
Russell Crowe, poet
According to The Guardian, Russell Crowe composed a poem to read at Empire Film Awards ceremony. After receiving an “actor of our lifetime” award Crowe whipped out this bit of verse:
I am celebrating my love for you with a pint of beer and a new tattoo.
Imagine there’s no heaven.
I don’t know if you’re loving somebody. To be a poet and not know the trade, to be a lover and repel all women. Twin ironies by which great saints are made, the agonising pincer-jaws of heaven.
If you can walk with crowds and keep your virtue, walk with kings but not lose the common touch, if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much;
yours is the earth and everything that’s in it and what’s more, you’ll be a man.
It’s only words, and words are all I have, to take your breath away.
By Mohsina Rehman
No stone is there to strike the vast beautiful ocean with its striking passion,
Nor is there a stick that can beat the drum to bring the chords into divine motion,
No wine is left to be poured in a crystal,
no potion; there is no potion, yet it seems like an unfathomable ocean,
Finer it becomes day by day, But there is no way to put that strain into motion,
Only silence!
A silence will be the only notion.
By Momina Hassan
Queries of youth must I raise
For the graveyard within my soul where my thoughts were concealed years before
The far forgotten legend of woes
Voice can’t say, but words will decide
Hark! My tale is an innocent plea
A whole new world I intend to perceive
Horizons await me, I believe
Let this belief conquer tonight
Shall these reverberates approach your heart
I promise, you will see beyond strife
Ali Asghar Ghani
Death of spoken words
Is
birth of thoughts
From once upon a time
To it was a dark stormy night
Fairytales turning into mysteries.
The poems of my notebook;
Impairing silent screams of light
In fiery ashes,
Of charcoal burning letters,
I burnt those few last verses
That asked your name.
Tiptoeing to the ache and pain
It may pass with a little rain
Whilst moon rising with glow
From a dark stormy night
To once upon a time.
By Aisha Rehman
Like dry and dead leaves
Which are blown by the storm from the
Trees to produce new leaves,
My thoughts are too shaken by the storm to create new thoughts.
Compiled by SK
