Aadha Chaand (Half-Moon)

Poem:

Ik nao mei aasmaan ka safar kar aatay hein.
Hum aadhay chaand ko yu amar kar aatay hein.
Le jaatay hein saath baad-e-nau-bahaar bhi,
Bo safaid mukhmal pe, rang-e-jigar aatay hein.

Us chandni talay jugnu sharma jatay hein,
Kar uddu hamaray jinhein sar aatay hein.
Dekh kar aata hai samandar bhi qibahon mein,
Puuray chaand se jb woh nisf-qamar aatay hein.

Koi no pehchanay siwae deed-e-yaar k,
To chehre pe zulfien bikhar aatay hein.
Akele chahay karlein kainaat ka safar,
khud ka safar karne ik qamar aatay hein.

Pohanchte hein un tak ashqon ki seedhi se,
Thora thora har badal thahar aatay hein.
No ho koi bhi mudakhulat phir darmyaan,
Gali k awaraoun se sauda kar aatay hein.

Dekh kr taray na karlein hisaab mei garbar,
Isliye har ada do baar sa.nvar aatay hein…
Hum aksar fakht dil rokne k liye unka,
Nisf chand lamho se mukar aatay hein…

Kartein hein jatan khub unko mananay k,
Naraz-o-khafa khud paas kidher aatay hein?
Nahi bhujtay chirag un k seenon mein phir,
ik roshan jazeeray ka safar jo kar aatay hein.

Woh jo us ki gali mei ik bar guzar aatay hein.
Nisf dubay chand ki manind ghar aatay hein.
Jo usko dekh lein aik baar woh bhultay nahi,
Aksar gunahgaar bhi wahan sudhar aatay hein.

Pehchanay nahi jaatay gor se dekho tab bhi,
Jo be-rang us chandni mein nitar aatay hein.
Sohani aa, kuch achay kashkol le aatay hein,
Teergi mei peenay ko roshni bhar aatay hein.

— Dedicated to the full and half-moon.

Credits: Base word of the poem “Aadha Chaand” was provided by Madam Sarah Awan.

Teri odhnii… (Your scarf…)

.

Poem:

Teri odhnii talay chandni ko takte hein.
Na-beena yun roshni ko parakhte hein.
Teri yaad saath ho to veeraan mei bhi…
Taray gulistan ki manind mehekte hein.

Masroof kaun nahi par tujay likhne ke liye.
Hum chalti zindagi se waqt maar lete hein.

Hum us shab ki lou ko baarhaa taraste hein,
Jahan parwanay bina chiragaah pighalte hein.

Dekhe jabse yaar ki dehleez pe biche phul.
Bilah-nagah chhokhat pe maatha taikte hein.

Khayal rakhtay hein us ka k Nazar na lagay.
Dil pe isliye kaala tikka lagaye ghumte hein.

Unko kia gham-e-duniya gham-e-hijra, jo
Roz aapka chehra dekh kaam pr nikalte hein.

Jab ghoom aayein Taj Mahal to gin lena kitne,
Hamari jhonpri k malbay mei dabbay milte hein.

Woh kia janay jise roz bheegnay ko miljaye.
Sehra mein kismat se chashmay phoot-te hein.

Ab kis se dei tashbih unko Sohani, samne in k,
Phul Jharne bhi sharma sharma k ghirte hein.

— Dedicated to those who love makes blind… But if it didn’t make one blind, would you still call it love?

Love in the time of Malaria…

A scene from the movie: “Love in the time of Cholera”

I owe you my life…
these breaths,
beats of a withering heart
that makes no sound,
yet paces up
when it hears your name.
What a lasting effect,
I wonder after all,
when it has been eons
that we first met.

You cured once perhaps a man,
sick of being out there,
an odd one amidst
an array of the choir.
Never fitting to the rhymes
nor giving in to the anthems.

Yet a man – fallible,
who fell – only,
under the whirlpool
of those oceanic eyes.
Lost where were perhaps
galaxies of the known
to the unknown isles.
Eyes that somehow saw him,
even though did look at him
the world entire.

Found there him,
an abode
made of a tumbleweed
and a few stones.
Birds perched there
to leave often an unwritten song.
One of those songs had
a ballad mentioning you and I.
Story of no triumph,
but loss that can only
be measured with a smile.

That fall wasn’t a fall,
but a rise…
a man who you made
conquer the stars,
so it goes,
went on to tame
the currents of time.
Rode the waves of resistance,
at the precipice of blinds.

But, how cruel for one
to become so fine,
earning a distance from the star
that propelled its very flight…
I wonder if destiny always
has to move the needle of time.

How helpless
is it for a man, you see,
who can be cured of a disease,
for sure often,
but not of the love,
that so viciously binds.
Remaining for perpetuity,
a chronic fine with no end in sight.

Hence I beg the question, my love…
A cure for life, is it? or
love is an affliction infinite…?

— Dedicated to those perpetually afflicted.

This word, affliction reminds me of a very famous couplet, putting up my feeble attempt at its translation here…
“Even if you do forget me, you well deserve that right…
Just don’t expect the same here, love made me blind.”
– Sahir Ludhianvi (one of the most prolific Urdu poets/ lyricists of the century).

Note: The title of the poem is a play on the title of a novel: “Love in the time of Cholera“. Written by one of my favorite authors (champion of poetic prose): “Gabriel Garcia Marquez“.

The Presence

​I miss you like
days that miss the sun light
when often shadowed
by the clouds
filled with moist.

I miss you like
nights that miss the moon light
when Earth has turned
face away
from its glimpse.

I miss you like
the early mornings
that miss the first cast of light
due to land covered
by the fog and mist…

I miss you like
the arching twilight
that forcefully push
birds to switch
between home and field…

No matter which time of day…
Or which time of year I am in…
I miss you
like a weather
without its sheen
Or like a time
without its continuity and feel…

Yet, my love,
do remember this
in bottom of your heart
and in depths of your soul
that no one can fathom but me…

Even in your absence,
I miss you
like you are with me…
For your absence too
gives me pleasure,
for your thoughts
always accompany me…

Hence, I enjoy
Downpour as much as a golden spree…
Moonless nights as much as the Silver glee…
Misty rendezvous as much as the Hope’s first spill…
And the Fleeting twilight as much as its Welcoming plea…

I am three with you…
Yes… In all shades of destiny…
And You…
You are here along me
as eternity.

– Dedicated to such a strong absence, that becomes an understated presence.

The Immersion

In times, after a day tiring,
and in nights without rest…
I seek to sit beside you in silence,
to receive your warmth,
like you’re a fire lit beside camp,
and I am a vagabond, tired
of roaming in wild darkness.

I am inclined to fall into your lap,
to have some moments of rest,
like you’re a ground sacred,
and I am a leaf, that has
just parted from wreath.

I burn to slip into your hands,
to know what is it to be contained,
like you’re a goblet of rejuvenation,
and I, mere an ash – scattered,
from the glowing mountains.

I ache to immerse in your embrace,
to find how pain vanishes with grace,
like you’re a moon casting – a quilt of spells,
and I am a moth howling,
in lust of mystic flame.

I yearn to flow my pulse to your heart-beats,
to feel what’s rising and what’s drowning,
like you’re a river of passion scintillating,
and I, mere a stone split
from rocks eroded.

I wish to submerge inside your breaths,
to forget any other world that exists,
like you’re a portal to universe another,
and I, a war-ship, that long sought
exile from wars and battles.

I desire to sink my world in you,
in craving to earn, color of your hue.
Like you’re the star, arose
to inspire luminescence…
and I am among those
trifling forever in shadows…

No matter when you look,
you’ll find me longing for this essence.
Since,
I am too tired of whole world around
lingering their eyes on me
seeking some complacence.
While, all I strive is to settle
in your arms, as a meaningless.

– Dedicated to the only beloved who can immerse a lover totally…

Image Credits:

1. “Ocean Atlas – Created by Jason deCaires Taylor” – Source: thecreatorsproject.vice.com
2. “Christ of the Abyss – Created by Guido Galletti” – Source: viralnova.com

C percent amore

You occupy my world, no matter where I see…

You are as refreshing as ice tea
amidst a hot scorching day,
of which even trees seem to seek
a drowning place.
Yet, for one who can have you,
wouldn’t wish
the days of summer to ever end.

You are as loving and carefree
as new monsoon rain,
post storms and thunderous flash,
screams of which scare both
living and undead.
Yet, for one who can have you,
wouldn’t wish
the sigh of clouds to ever end.

You are as rejuvenating as the soil
of a holy place,
one that has received countless
subservient seeking liberation.
For one who can have you,
would sure become
a seed turning in a new leaf.

You’re as tender as the breeze
blowing from high gardens,
for the one who has served life
in a closet.
For one who can have you,
wouldn’t wish
a return, to any other imprisonment.

You are as fragrant as an incense
burning at steeple of the lovers,
those who sought life after death.
For one who can have you,
would sure linger more,
waiting for winds to gust
fast with your kisses.

You are as encompassing as lake,
the eyes of the valley land,
open for one who’s never sighted
any miracles.
For, one who can have you,
would keep praising without a flinch,
till each corner leaks stream.

You are as inviting as bird humming,
singing new song every morning,
perching on ear drums of one
who’s drunk sleeping.
For, one who can have you,
would not just trip at melodies,
but dance with silent symphonies.

Yet, my beloved, I know not,
how to define you
like you define all…
Way you carry in your essence,
the pathway to my soul.
Nor I carry any idea,
to spell what your world’s made for…
But then, what do I know…?
Since, I merely dwell at cent
of the C percent amore…

Yet, what I love of you, is speckle in the galaxy.

– Dedicated to the beloved, who we love all about, yet only like the one away from the ocean, like merely standing on the shore.

Image Credits:
1. Sunny Meadow – Stock image (GettyImages)
2. Pinching Galaxy – Stock image – (shutterstock)

Her Eyes

“Eyes are portal to the soul.”
If you ever feel confused, or unsure,
and want to find out if you’ve really begun
to fall for someone,
then just ask yourself this…
how much you adore your beloved’s eyes…?
Enough, to dive deep in them and
make the world inside them your own?
Wish you enough, to see what they see,
what they reflect, what they rise and fall on?

My friend, told me that…
But I for one, never knew how one can ever describe the eyes….

I mean, how can you do it?
You gonna define its color…?
You gonna express how they shine…?
You gonna fall for its shape or its size..?
Or you gonna describe way they close and reopen…?

Like, what possibly any pair of eyes can do differently
that would make them stand apart
from countless others belonging to similar species…?

And then one day it struck me…
I knew one pair of eyes, perhaps, more than I knew mine.
It was the day I realized, “I know her enough…”
Too clichéd, yeah? I asked my self the same…
But it wasn’t like I fell for those beautiful gems,
right the moment I gazed into them.
It took its time. But to be honest…
It wasn’t fair, from beginning to the end.

I think, it’s really impossible to ignore
the raw beauty they possessed,
after all…

How could one possibly ignore one that saw the pain
like a sky mourning for the Sun after the rain…
Like reminding us, how often we don’t appreciate
worth of something until its far too late.
Eyes that would not just mourn but burn
the Sun within to set things right the way they can…
Applying herself like a dawn of hope in dark nights
of those who’d rather wish to sleep
forever under blankets of numbness post pain
than remaining awake to heal and change
for what’s left still, what can still be saved.

How could I have escaped the effect of eyes
that were inclined to see something positive,
something worth saving and cherishing
in every soul they ever met.
Like a sprout of a fragrance that leaves from the flowers
irrespective of whose surrounding they engage.
Eyes that saw things based on their intensity, their essence,
no matter caste, creed, color, background, ethnicity,
social status, or religious difference.
Like a wind tending the garden, touching all the flowers
with the love and grace, without splitting or grading them.

How can one turn an eye blind at way her eyes would see the world
like a living orchestra constantly producing symphonies…
Way her eyes would manage to see and read something to be learned
and kept as a part of soul out of even catastrophe…
Like her eyes would know exactly where to look, to find
a voice in silence, to find expressions in stoic and music in noise…
In totally bland and apparently common things of life,
that we tend to ignore trivially… they discover sense and poetry.

I think I can define…
Its color…? They’re rainbows and butterfly mosaics combined…
in a way that one can never keep its full spectrum confined.
They give life to world, leaking warmth in seams.
Its shine…? They’re an ocean with sparkling glitter of skies.
Reflecting both the golden hues of day and moonlight’s silver gown in night.
They give hope, they speak of light.
Its shape…? They’ve a shape of the sea shells, enclosing pearls within,
they’re made to carry even anomalies, that can emerge into exquisite.
Its size..? They’re limitlessly deep… pathway to the cosmos,
way to the galaxies, deep and wide than anything ever seen.
They give intensity to those who dwell just on cursory or surfaces…
And way they close and reopen…? Well, they keep themselves open like wells,
to contain the wishes, to encapsulate the moments, the vivid dreams,
moreover, they open like the wings of angels… determined to help spirits.
And they close on like the gates of palace and castles, saving everything inside,
from those who’re unfriendly and intrusive. Who try to malign a soul or mind.

I just love the way they sees things…
And never once yet it happens that they rise with a pride
or drown with keeping an air of numbness or vanity…
They are curious like the baby’s, wishing to know more and yet
as still and weary as an elderly’s piercing the hides to dwell deep.

Yes, I know from her eyes, that I love the world
that she inhabits in them, all that’s read by them,
world that these eyes reflect on,
but above all, I love the way they convert pain
into something positive,
way they forgive, way they rejoice, way they stare deep inside,
way they make one realize…
there’s more to world then what meets the eyes.
I do indeed, love her eyes…

– Dedicated to the beloved’s eyes… (this poem is an ensemble piece of several small poems written on same theme).

Image Credits:
1. Soul Washout by Clarisse Litiatco (Deviantart)
2. Colored Eye Drawing by Kate Louise Powell (Pinterest)

Trampoline of Hope

The Fallen Angel – I look for you, to rise again…

My love,
If I ever escape from your pull
remind me, like a Star,
how I need your charm,
to remain like a moon,
rather a dull rock.

If I ever get lost amidst the way
remind me, my love,
like a Sun,
how I need your direction,
to remain like a journeyman,
rather a mere wanderer.

If I ever begin to drown in ocean
remind me, my love,
like a steadfast sail,
how I need to work the waves,
to remain like a swimmer,
rather a sunk weight.

If I ever begin falling from grace
remind me, my love,
with a holy spell,
how I need to tend my wings,
to remain an angel,
rather a devil’s advocate.

If I ever feel defeated in battle
remind me, my love,
like a trampoline of hope,
how I can rise back,
to remain in knight’s form,
rather than a mercy rag.

If I ever start loosing a grip
remind me, my love,
like your hem’s knit,
how I need a safety net,
to remain like a mountain,
rather than an abyss.

If I ever begin to break in skin,
remind me, my love,
like one sculpting,
how I need to collect shards,
to remain composed as a piece,
rather than one fallen apart.

Remind me always,
my love
of our days,
the tears we shed,
and laughs we had,
moments we made,
for all time we spent.

But, do bring me back,
from depths of darkness.
For you’ve to remember this,
light is needed the most
at the gloomiest.

The Flying Angel – It’s your spirit that always keeps me propelled.

– Dedicated to the beloved – who fills our heart with hope and joy, never giving up on us, no matter what.

Image Credits:
1. Fallen Angels (Cover art) – tophdgallery.com
2. Angel in Sky – blog.gggodonou.me

Weather and Whether…

“Lets ride today to the east coast…”
whispered the wind, blowing in spree…
Perhaps,
Weather is today, pretty nice with me…

The clouds gathered around,
they too formed up a gang,
like a couch made of snow…
An invitation extended:
“Just lay on for a while, like a retiree…”
Weather is indeed, pretty nice with me…

And here I smell the earth
at its driest now,
yet there’s a hint of spring,
right before rain’s to perch
I hear, grains of sand iterating…
“Like a fume, set yourself free…”
Weather is a darling to me…

But tell me, my love…
How come weather is one needed now, to narrate this…?

What happened to days,
when our morning was about
watching the other rising from sheets,
uttering the playful words
in half-slept voice…

Your expressing the dreams,
my interpreting possibilities….
our paving the way for the stars,
just for them to sink
right into our grasps for kissing…

Poems we read each other,
whispering the name of other in between,
chasing dreams in time,
like moths chasing moonlight
besides a flowing stream…

Your warm embrace,
your stretched arms and glow,
like a cherry tree dripping,
a hallmark of the evening…
and mine becoming…
like a lost bird making it home,
after day spent in wandering…

When whole room was delighted,
just like soul with-in,
catching you hum,
lyrics of songs and eternal sonnets,
My smiling just gazing you do that,
your knowing this and biting your lips.

To that twinkle of your eyes,
that laughter in rejoice…
that made my heart beat up
like some orchestrated choir at church,
faithfully deepening…

Look how potent they’re,
that even weather reminds me
of those moments spent,
in your presence…

When our eyes, and
not the weather was one to tell us,
our conversations were like seeds,
moments born of them were fruits,
ripe enough for savoring…
to satiate our hunger for rare,
to fill our quota of belonging,
in a manner,
as though we were always one,
existences apart in life before
were mere colors,
awaiting to emerge as a rainbow.

But out in this weather,
I still feel a void… I seek…
fragrance that accompanied the wind…
countenance, that used to emerge in formation of clouds…
fumes, of drizzle, that used to freeze the time,
and rain that used to seize the moment…

I can’t drown in weather,
or the memory,
nor I can communicate with wind…
or follow-up with clouds,
or keep the rain’s avid timing….

I gather,
No sea can trace the depth of eyes,
and only drowning in them,
can sooth the volcanoes of heart,
that can never be calmed by wind,
clouds or the rains…

Though weather is nice today, my love,
I need you to show me,
how can I be nice to it…

– Dedicated to an inviting weather and the reluctant subject…

Art Credits:

1. Rainy Weather – Painting by Victor Figol
2. ‘The Black Mountains’ – Freddie Ardley Photography

One Night

Let moon be full and its silver be abound.
So we meet in its glory to never be found.

One night he rose from a sleep
grasping her scent while breathing…
Night he desired to rub the flowers on her,
To breed the petals in her mold,
and to paint her garden within.

One night he sleep walked to the moon
like a glow bug but found there nothing…
Night he desired the moonlight
to bask her in,
so he may paint her sky within.

One night he woke to a song and traced an origin,
found a nest yet no bird in it.
Night he desired a moment
to listen her singing, a poem of his…
So he may carry her symphony within.

One night he found himself lying beside her
hunting brightest star in a ceaseless ceiling.
Night he desired to trace
lines on her palm, his blessings,
so he may find a hope within.

One night he found himself interlocked
in her tresses beguiling…
Night he didn’t care to know
whether he was awake or sleeping…
Perhaps,
he didn’t want to escape
a dream alive within.

– Dedicated to a dream – a midnight view.

Art/ Image credits: Stock image – a wallpaper.