US

POETS’ CORNER

US
By S. K
Fri, 09, 20

Sleepless nights begin to settle in, in hatred of my love of sleep....At times I gasped for air, couldn’t breathe....

Subtle wounds

By Laraib Zakir

And just like that, it started to happen.

Without knowing when

Everything grew weak.

The hair thinned, tangled in knots.

I walked, but the legs ached, way too much.

The fragile smiles failed to lighten up the pale face, it faded every day.

The silence overtook, more than ever.

The pain seeped inside the bones, residing soulfully.

I traced the dark circles under the eyes, graver than ever.

Sleepless nights begin to settle in, in hatred of my love of sleep.

At times I gasped for air, couldn’t breathe.

I clenched at my ribs, were they crumbling so sharply?

I could see more of those, the veins; tracing the path so clearly.

Paper cuts and a slight prick on the finger, oozed out crimson profusely.

The tablets poured in, tasting awfully poisonous.

I wanted to scream out my lungs, once and for all.

Can a gush of fierce wind pierce through all the pain, just this one time?

The sky must have seen something being taken away from those green eyes, filling them with nothingness at last.

There I was perched against wounds.

Subtle wounds.

And just like that, it started to happen

Without knowing when

Everything grew weak.

Lighthouse

By Ali Asghar Ghani

Belief

is a light house for

a wandering ship of

dreams

POEMS FOREVER

Dew-drops are the gems of morning,

But the tears of mournful eve!

Where no hope is, life’s a warning

That only serves to make us grieve,

When we are old:

That only serves to make us grieve

With oft and tedious taking-leave,

Like some poor nigh-related guest,

That may not rudely be dismist;

Yet hath outstay’d his welcome while,

And tells the jest without the smile.

Extracted from Youth and Age by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

A perfect moment

By Sara Batool

What else can we do

but to wait for a moment,

that is perfect

and happy,

and impeccable,

but how shallow we become

after experiencing that very perfect moment

the experience becomes less perfect

that perfect moment becomes imperfect

and look to our fragile heart

it beats and longs

longs for something

some moment

that’s perfect...

Compiled by SK