No stone is there to strike the vast beautiful ocean with its striking passion...
By Tehzeeb Sialvi
Watch the skyscrapers
Evade the clouds,
Tower the sky,
And touch the moon,
In the land of parallax!
The limitless skyline,
Blinking city lights,
And the rising tide of the Hudson,
Seem resting up,
On the palm of a hand.
Oh, 'tis the blinding world of parallax!
That which is monumental,
Appears insignificant,
And colossal seems ordinary,
In the deluding world of parallax!
Too real,
To regard it illusional,
Yet too unreal,
To believe it's actual.
This is how vague it is;
Amidst deceiving sights,
And the shift of an eye,
The land of parallax!
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Joyce Kilmer
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
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
Enfolded within realms of darkness, where nothingness reigns
Holding onto the brittle strings words, but silence falls with grace
Walking upon the astral path of nowhere, along the upside down seasons of love
