The Passion Entrapment (Daira-e-Mohabbat)

Concept-Art-Branko-Bistrovic-A-Hunter-By-Day-A-Stargazer-By-Night

In an adolescence of union, settings for a year anew plays well…
In an entrapment of passion, beatings of heart-debut plays well…

With each meeting happens a new vow, for separation – a pledge,
In a wager of romance, offerings of a sweet fondue plays well…

“Did you comprehend gist of emerging whispers, oh pioneer?”
In all its posterity, silence leaves, a laughing dejavu plays well…

Even in depths of canyons, hunting a mirage of sun’s warmth…
For ages of remembrance, craving a point of view plays well…

For all the flames that arise to beguile from a star so distant,
Not loosing a shape or form, a diffusion of hue plays well…

In all its liveliness yet after passing of the centuries in passivity,
Due matters of whole life, ending with a thank-you plays well…

Closing in now, for loving, even the majestic skies of heavens,
Yet for real sense of bonding, only “a tried and true” plays well…

– Dedicated to the passion and its dominating idols…

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Urdu Version:

Daira-e-Mohabbat mei dil ho non-e-haal acha hai…
Wasl-e-Mohabbat tera kamsin sa pehla saal acha hai…

Har mulaqat mei qasmei, har judai par waaday…
Labon par qulb-rawani ka gohr-e-kamaal acha hai…

Jo poochna sirhanay “Sunni kiya dil ki dhadkhan?”
Be-sakhta unka hansna, kehkar “sawaal acha hai”…

Pasta-e-haal bhi rawaan hon jo ufaq ki umeedein,
Ae umr-e-tehsil teri har soch ka jamaal acha hai…

Teergi-e-shab mei uthtay hein musulsul sholay,
Behekti karwato se yaha hosh ka zawaal acha hai…

Laut aatay hein aisey jaisey sadiyo mei bahaar,
Seena-e-pewast per yun do pal ka malal acha hai…

Aagaya qurbat mei Sohani ab saatwaan aasmaan,
Ya Ilahi yeh Ishq-e-mizaaji ka bhi to jaal acha hai…

– Dedicated to the idols of love that we create and perish…

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Image/ Art Credits:

  1. Concept Art: Branko Bistrovic – A Hunter By Day A Stargazer By Night
  2. Stock image: Boat in bottle
  3. Occupy Love – TheNation.com
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“Revenge is Bad”

When revenge is love.

When revenge is love.

She says… “Revenge is bad.”
I don’t know how to reply.

She becomes so kind,
that enemies take her side.
So compassionate that
strangers ask her consent.

And… She says… “Revenge is bad.”
I don’t know how to reply.

So soothing
that clouds with rain feel high.
So steady,
that rocks feel intimidated.
So transparent,
that water feels shy…

And… She says… “Revenge is bad.”
I don’t know how to reply.

So calm
that thunder returns sigh..
So eloquent
that bard feels fragile…
So alluring
that monk becomes sly…

And… She says… “Revenge is bad.”
I don’t know how to reply.

So pure
that dew drops become dry..
So pleasant
that fantasies feel like a lie…
So gracious
that envy seeks to hide…

And… She says… “Revenge is bad.”
I don’t know how to reply.

She expects me to be “Kind.”
Turns me pale.
Makes me embarrassed
in my own eyes.
I wrote her a poem
in spur of vengeance.

And… She says… “Revenge is bad.”
I don’t know how to reply.

– Dedicated to the nature’s marvel that simply puts.. “Revenge is bad”, and continues to work her charm on us.

Image Credits: terranfilms.com

Time Treatment

Washed-Up State

Time Treatment

Flowing as a determined breeze,
and straying us like a fallen leaf.
Or marching as a drifter in stupor,
while kicking us like a pebble in way.

I don’t like the way time treats us…
why does it always has to be its way…?
Everything is washed up now,
makes a lesser sense with each passing day.

Why is it so different now than we first met?
How come hope and innocence turned into dismay?
Promises you vested in me, I made to you…
How could we lose each other along the way?

Hours of waiting following hours of preparation,
Why all what remains is so raw now – no foreplay.
Was it my arrogance or was it your hue?
Stopping us from what we both needed to say.

Once used to stumble across a light in the night.
Now, I struggle to find it in what others call “a shining day”.
I wish, I may ask someone from future to guide me,
facing quite a tough time here to relocate my way.

I never believed in fate,
nor I ever trusted the free-will,
for me it was all a meaningless dice play.
Looking at the past I can’t figure why..
“I turned into a being that I didn’t like yesterday…”

– Dedicated to a delta of soul, lost innocence, time difference; unwanted evolution and spiritual distance.

Update: 10/14/2013:

Typewritten poem: "Time Treatment"

Typewritten Poem: Time Treatment