Holding doors

Holding doors
For too long
Is perhaps
A dangerous act
To do

For people may
Just walk right
Back
The doors they
Walked in through

Since holding doors
Open but
Not bolting them
In time

May raise doubts
As to stay
Or leave?
In damaged people’s
Minds.

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Anomaly

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Dancing in the garden,
Enraptured, she shouts,
“Look! How extraordinarily,
the garden they adorn!”

But pushed away by the warden
From the roses that sprout;
People looking at her pointedly,
As she struggles to break free
To collect some of those thorns.

Dearly Dangerous

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This one goes out for all the struggling women out there who have been victim to violence, emotional hurt, physical assault or any abuse big or small; physical or emotional at the hands of their male counterparts. This is a vent of the unkempt suppressed feelings that have piled over the years just to be hushed aside in a dark corner. It is the hatred that only sparkled as tears in the eyes. This is unleashed rage. It is the conflicting dilemma they go through.

It is venom that she writes with
No! Not your standard ink
Let it swim into your veins
With every word you drink

Let it slow-poison you
As it slithers up those streams
Her every sting will swallow you
Only she can hear your screams

But it won’t just get over yet
You thought karma was a bitch?
She’ll avenge the pain beyond revenge
Now meet a real-life witch

She will resonate through your conscience
With every echo you will fall
Even when you are down on your knees
You will stare at her appalled.

Taste that bitterness of every promise
You left but just unmet
For everytime those words were uttered
Those three words you’ll regret

You smother her, hah! Infutile
She is not a petty gasoline ignite
She is devilry straight out of hell
She’ll smoulder you without respite

Silently she spins the web
You thought she was fragile?
It’s stronger than the strongest threads
Reeking of cyanide

For no matter how much you run away
Can you escape your own head?
But still she weeps when looks at you
Tossing and turning in your bed.

It’s Raining Bliss

Drip drop
Non stop
cats n dogs
sewers clog
Faces glow
Streets flow
children yell
Greens swell
Clouds roar
Birds adore

We pray for more
A blessing huge
Monsoon deluge

It rained after an entirety of five months. No doubt how much every living creature needed it. A bliss of Allah came to us as a gift of Eid. ShukarAlhumdulillah:”) Below are some of the pictures I took after all the greens had taken a good bath. Hope you enjoy them.

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Polished and buffed

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Fresher pink

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Ring a ring of posies

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Colours of the Paki flag

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Dark clouds galore

 

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L’il birdie enjoying the in-between drizzle

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People rushing to their homes

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Message from the clouds: We ain’t stopping even after the sun has set

You Are a Reflection of What You Love

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Dear Farend,

You say that you love me
But never do you show
Whenever I tell you, “You move me”
Surprised, you reply with an ‘Oh!’

You say that you love me
But never do you believe
When I tell you, “You are lovely”
You negate in disbelief

You say that you love me
But never do you realize
That you are a masterpiece-to-be
What with that fire in your eyes?

You once told me, that you love me
I discussed the power of your words
You replied, ‘They are not worthy’
So I made all the ‘I love yous’ unheard.

You always talk of love with me
One that you say you have for you
Then type a detailed self-critique,
Making all that love untrue.

You always tend to shove me
When I number things at which you’re great
You dismiss all my numberings
With one of what I enumerate: debate

Though your skill with numbers is above me,
You astound me with words too,
But always you interrupt me
With an ‘Oh it is just you!’

So dear Farend, how come you love me?
When you can barely ever agree
With my opinions of how you are
I suppose I have the right to question thee
Why this pretense of hypocrisy?
When I am just a reflection of who you are.

Disguised Murderer

 

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It saws through the ribcage
Savagely sawing, grinding the
Unyielding, weakening bones.
Breaks through the guarding cage.

Then hunts in the darkness, with rage
in its eyes; loath, scorn, contempt.
Searches wild-eyed for that which moans
Softly pumping; pounding, frightened flesh

 Now a twitching, throbbing hostage.
Inquires its last wish, speaking to it
In hissing, malicious undertones
The small piece of pulsating flesh
Begs for a last embrace.

So without a moments age
It plunges, dagger-like, sending
Spurts of blood and groans
translucent drops of pain on face.

It’s over. A silence descends onstage.
I clap, hoot, howl, enraged.
Then smile at the cruel deftness galore
Just a thought, unarmed-but fatefully yours.

The Girl Next Door

originally written on 20th February 2017

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Gloomy, in a blue chair
Sat she
With ivory black hair
Spread all over
Her hidden face

I tried to descry
Expression of her eye
But the opaque windows
Gave no hint
No trace

Alas, she stood
Looked my way
Stood there, staring
For a second or two

Then dropped her gaze
And turned away
Whispering, “eyes don’t always
Show what is true..”