US

POETS’ CORNER

US
By US Desk
Fri, 11, 19

There will come soft rain and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound...

There Will Come Soft Rain

By Sara Teasdale

There will come soft rain and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,

And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Why is it that

By Laraib Zakir

Why is it that,

That when I’m no more,

You would come here more often.

Hesitate for a moment

And then sit there,

Beside me as if I were there, too.

Why is that,

That you would dust off my rustic diary

And try to find your name inside

But no, you wouldn’t be able to

Because, my dear,

You never learned to read between the lines, did you?

Why is it that,

That you would walk towards my window,

Open the curtains and look up at the sky

Just like I did,

But the sky wouldn’t be like that anymore.

Would you know then, that I always liked it dark?

Why is it that,

That before picking up my vessel of dried flower petals,

You would stare long into it, into nothingness

And then get hold of a few, crumbling petals.

Feel them getting dusted off as you dearly hold them.

Will you then realize the fragility of life?

Why is it that,

That you would sift through all my writings,

Torn pieces of poetry, reckless scriptures of prose and wrecked thoughts

And try to create meaning out of those

But my dear,

Did chaos ever made sense to you?

Why is it that,

That you never came to know,

It was you, all along

And then also you weren’t

Maybe because there was everything

But under the enchantment of oblivion.

Why is it that,

That when I’m no more,

You would come here more often.

Hope

By Hira Nasir

Sometimes things may not go the way you want,

Sometimes the path looks long,

The journey so difficult.

Sometimes the goals seems impossible,

The struggle so hard.

Sometimes the efforts feel useless,

The time seems to stop.

During those times,

Remember one thing,

Time passes in seconds

And

This too shall pass.

Witch

By Mashaal Farid

Gathered some ashes

Yet her coldness warm

Blazing those eyes

A fire outta storm

Into fierceness when burnt

Sorcery that she learnt

Holding to it tight

Raising

Therein madness to a height