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Blacks & Whites of Poetry

Page 4

by Tehreem Ali

were young

  You wrote to your family in the hour of rush

  You fought when your eyes couldn’t see properly

  With everyone around you pointing fingers at you

  You ended every pain around you

  When you yourself were in pain

  You smiled behind the bars of your defense

  In the battle field on the day of your birthday

  You saw your closest pass by you in front of your eyes

  When you couldn’t reach them

  You recognized everyone and everything

  But they say that you couldn’t be recognized

  And still, after you were gone

  Your only loved ones searched for you

  And you being not found

  They buried your memories into their hearts

  And these memories of such a young soldier

  Are and never will be forgotten.

  The Magic Machine

  Before the beginning of every beginning,

  Out of chaotic pieces of clay,

  An orderly lump was created, the Wanderer, for ages to come,

  Into which a clot of blood was poured,

  A soul was breathed in,

  A beating chamber put into it.

  And finally to uplift the veil of this Reality,

  It was then bestowed with the gift of Consciousness,

  Resting in a fathomable pit, the Mind.

  To seize the immense truth of his mortality,

  It was given the ultimate power of Thought,

  Thought astray has he long gone from his destined path.

  Like a large cauldron, dark and deep

  Is the fathomableness of his Mind.

  To life it comes when the power of Thought

  Works its way across what may appear as unfeasible,

  Thus this power shunning its light there, making it promising;

  Just in the likeness of some magical potion,

  That leaves its effect on every dull and dark reality.

  Like the true nature of magic mistaken,

  By what appears visible only to the eye,

  So is the true power of the Wanderer’s magic, the Mind

  Mistaken for nothing but a mere conception of immortality.

  Thought its seeds do grow, reap fruits and then erode away

  By the cruel hands of Time, which crushes yet everything.

  Like magical potions jingling in the dark and deep cauldron,

  The Thoughts jungle in their fathomable cauldron, the Mind.

  Like the potions assemble together, becoming the soul of spells,

  The power of Thought assembles itself, becoming the soul of intelligence.

  And just as the magician’s wand always at work on its spells,

  So is the Wanderer’s Magic Machine, the Mind,

  Always at work on its Thoughts.

  The Sons Of Fate

  It the hour of Creation, with the molten form of Reality taking shape,

  Seeing Chance of fulfilling its emptiness, Reason was born

  For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay

  To suck the dry, soothing Breath blown into it.

  For the hollow, silent crevasses inside it

  To take the Beat the still echoes in its chambers

  And sowing a seed of the power

  That would morph into a living miracle.

  It was Chance of dreaming and hoping that Reason was born

  For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay

  To fall into the cradled hands of Nature.

  To roam freely in its vivid, lush green palaces and kingdoms.

  To drink from its showers of endless, salty skies

  And to dive into its warm, soothing tears

  Thus gaining the eternal glow of Comfort.

  It was Chance of survival that Reason was born

  For the empty grain of sand and thirst dropp of clay

  To shelter it’s troubled existence in the depths of Dawn

  For dullness in it to drink from the life pouring from above.

  To warm its death shivers by the embers of fire flaming around it.

  To morph in itself the cravings of Nature’s soul.

  To silence thunders of wilderness by caressing them

  And to search lost pats in the streaks of the morning’s rays.

  It was Chance of discovery that Reason was born

  For the empty grain of sand and thirst dropp of clay

  To sow the evergreen seed of Knowledge in the barren land.

  To plough deeper into the core of Nature’s resilient laws.

  To soften the damp around it’s bitterest of realities.

  To learn to ride with the fast running wheels of Time.

  To look for the tiniest speck of light in the vacuum of Ignorance

  And to give that light to the evergreen seed to grow.

  And it was Chance of selectiveness that Reason was born

  For the empty grain of sand and thirst dropp of clay

  To form titles of sympathy and cruelty; violence and tranquility.

  To build domes marking lost, confused reminders of their history.

  To conquer vast grounds and endless seas to nourish its restlessness.

  To fall under covers of a thousand colours and creeds.

  To make beliefs and rites to keep itself from going astray

  And to lay tracks of progress in moments flying by.

  ____________

  It is Chance of destruction that Reason is born

  For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay

  To erect redundancies that salute the skies

  To mold giant monsters of smoke and dust

  That camouflage pieces of gold spread by Nature.

  To shed light of Violence, closing eyes that never opened.

  To emanate resilient glows that melt the diamonds settled on lands

  And to unleash powers of Torture, killing Freedom in its cradle.

  It is Chance of empowerment that Reason is born

  For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay

  To spread tokens of Deceit under blindfolds of Innocence on its eyes.

  To manipulate the living miracle by hiding it from its own anilities.

  To make a slave of the free soul in all its doubts and distress.

  To convince itself to believe in what never saw the light of Truth.

  To break the break threads of Faith by daggers of Corruption

  And to set on flight the power sheathing it from demons of Violence.

  It is Chance of control that Reason is born

  For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay

  To reach the deepest realms of the Divine Kingdom residing within

  And shattering it to a ruined castle built on lost pillars of Time.

  To trap the senses in the light of their own perception.

  To camouflage its reality by Treachery and Deceit.

  To violate Innocence and Simplicity by false images of Terror and Misery

  And to change the laws engraved on hands of Nature for its own cause.

  It is Chance of superiority that Reason is born

  For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay

  To turn its back against the poor, needy and sick.

  To snatch away the comfort of a home from the weak and oppressed.

  To play games of Injustice with the Fate of those who are ignorant of its rules.

  To throw heaps of insult and torture on the defenseless.

  To let the bereaved rot away from pangs of Hunger and clench of Thirst

  And to erase from Existence those who lift curtains from the bitter ugly truth.

  And it is Chance of concealment that Reason is born

  For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay

  To deprive the senses from their beliefs and motives by terror-stricken thoughts.

  To blow off the tiny specks of Reality dan
cing in shades of Ignorance.

  To shun all resilient evidence of that which existed before

  The Light spread, brightening every lost, drenched path.

  To replace the motives forever firm by plastic ideas

  And to lay down foundations of false accusations

  On the swords fighting in the shade of Truth.

  _____________

  It will be Chance of gaining that Reason will be born

  For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay

  To unleash its minions in realms only known to the moon and stars.

  To claim the very remnants of existence beyond its imagination.

  To change the perception of Truth just to get most out of birth of lies.

  To risk all its hopes and dreams for the sake of conquering more.

  To search for treasures in the embers of a fire burning deep within

  And to proclaim the death of those whose lives it controlled.

  It will be Chance of imprisonment that Reason will be born

  For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay

  To black away tranquil memories by curtains of Gloom.

  To alter the courses of Reality by its made-up perspectives.

  To mock the living miracle out of its very cognition.

  To litter the light within by lingering shadows of Enmity

  And to camouflage all that exists beneath covers of Deception.

  It will be Chance of conspiring that Reason will be born

  For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay

  To break the forces binding the lost and dejected.

  To make the immortal thoughts fear and question their sanity.

  To blindfoldedly turn the strongest of beliefs into mere shards of Uncertainty.

  To break into the very core of the seed planted deep within

  And to cling wit the beads of Time just to shatter them.

  And it will be Chance of Ignorance that Reason will be born

  For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay

  To walk on paths upon which blood of the innocent dried.

  To howl away in shrieks of laughter when others kill for it.

  To live on beauteous sheets of fortune while others rot away without a roof.

  To sit on thrones and curse its luck while others try to form one.

  To satisfy their hunger while Misery takes hold of the rest

  And to live on a good beating heart while others die finding one.

  The Time Of Times

  Some things can’t be changed

  While some stay the same

  Some can be gained

  While some aren’t meant to be

  Some can step on the battlefield

  While some can’t control their fear

  Some doors are always open

  While some aren’t even there at all

  Some are very special to weap upon

  While some are forgotten by the time

  Some decisions can’t be decided

  While some are thrust upon us

  Some possibilities can be possible enough

  While some can’t be the ones

  Some are so dearer to us

  That we wish to always

  Stay in their shadows

  While some are our bitterest enemies

  Some thoughts mingle in our minds

  While some turn into questions

  Some risks are useful to take

  While some might take away our relief

  Some confusions can be solved

  While some ought to be un-tied

  Some words are left un-spoken

  While some wonder in the open air

  And likewise, some times also ought

  To be remembered while

  Some ought to be forgotten.

  Time Is A Treasure

  Smile till you want to

  Cry till u want to

  Breathe till you want to

  Live till you want to

  Every moment in your

  Life is valuable

  Time is a treasure.

  Take all that you need

  Fell all that you can feel

  Try hard till you can

  To be a successful man

  Every hard work counts

  Time is a treasure.

  Run fast till you are tired

  Be strong while you are weak

  Stay calm but not in anger

  To figure out all your troubles

  Your patience is your limit

  Time is a treasure.

  Hold all your life in

  Your hands to change

  The mistakes that you’ve made

  Climb every ladder, which will

  Take you to a higher rank

  Your patience is your only source

  To fight for everything

  Time is a treasure.

  Time is the only thing

  That our life depends upon

  If it’s gone once

  It won’t ever come back

  Time is a valuable treasure

  That won’t ever be found

  Again if lost once.

  Un-Defined

  We live so lively,

  Yet unaware of reality.

  We dream so consciously,

  Yet unable to trace it’s path.

  We imagine so artistically,

  Yet unable to draw

  Those images upon our lives.

  We think so thoughtfully,

  Yet unable to turn those

  Thoughts neither in words, nor in actions.

  We decide so autonomously,

  Yet those decisions end up going nowhere.

  We feel so deeply inside the corner of stress,

  Yet those feelings break away so soon,

  Shattered to pieces in our heart

  Like smooth, shinny glass.

  We want so ardently,

  Yet unaware of the price it may cost us.

  We concentrate with our mind’s windows open,

  Yet forget all that needed

  To stay in the blind corners of our reminiscence.

  We fear so horridly,

  Yet unable to define it.

  We control so independently,

  Yet unable to control our own insanities.

  We act so humanely,

  Yet unable to act before the undo.

  We speak so resolutely,

  Yet those words are nothing

  But mere words in front of the screams.

  We search so intrepidly,

  Yet unaware of the murky shadows,

  That lurk behind the twilight doors.

  We answer so determinedly,

  Yet form into a bundle of questions ourselves.

  When it comes to the chapters of misunderstanding.

  We weep so sympathetically,

  Yet unaware if those tears

  Really are from the unfathomable pits of our hearts.

  We laugh so gleefully,

  Yet unaware of the faces

  That are forever bound to beam.

  We pledge so trustworthily,

  Yet those promises are nothing more

  Than words, forgotten sooner that the dark to approach.

  We hold the chain of love so compactly,

  Yet unaware of the aspects clinging to the beads

  That may break apart from our own grip.

  We hear so assiduously.

  Yet fail to recognize the clandestine

  Of our own lives being read out aloud.

  We see so immaculately,

  Yet unable to see the darkness

  Glooming around us everywhere.

  We forgive so mercifully,

  Yet that forgiveness is never

  From the center of promises.

  We restore the damages so flawlessly,

  Yet unable to restore the damages

  Of our own bruised lives.

  We accept so wi
llingly,

  Yet refuse everything at the end

  Of the dark delusion in our minds.

  We succeed so exceedingly,

  Yet fail when life give us a test

  To enter the world henceforth.

  We run so promptly for achieving

  Yet unable to catch even a foretaste of it all.

  We recognize so indubitably,

  Ye unable to recognize the images

  Laid before us of our reflections

  On shattered glass.

  We follow what is taught so accordingly,

  Yet unable to find the ways once doubt swathes us.

  We reason so unhesitatingly,

  Yet questions our own reason sometimes.

  We wonder so aimlessly around harsh corners of this gloominess,

  Yet unaware of the phantoms that creep inside us from there.

  We wait so hastily chances and opportunities,

  Yet fail so miserably upon following the way they went.

  We hail our thoughts and ideas into this world,

  Yet never give them shelter in the deepest corners of our minds.

  We admit to walk with life at every step,

  Yet take a turn leading to isolation rather than life.

  We catch every star life throws upon us,

  Yet unable to settle them upon ourselves.

  And yet, when death arrive sat our door

  We want for it all over again

  But in vain.

  Un-Finished Dreams

  It was the night which summoned our lives

  It were the stars which led us to heaven

  It was the light, which we followed

  It was the sound of the wind, which cherished us

  It was the laughter of the morning, which woke us up.

  It was the pain, which gave us strength

  It were the seconds which kept us going

  It was the cry of a loner, which made us merciful

  It was the deep ocean we sank into with our sorrows

  It was the existence of God which made our believes.

  It was the simplicity of life, which made us live

  It were the memories which pushed us forward

  It was the faith, which made us try

  It was the talking which made us realize

  It was the reality, which made us different from ourselves

  And so, we couldn’t let go of these ties

  Held on to them as we could

  Ado so, it was these ties which our lives were built from.

  Un-Fold

  Gave life to none

  To search in the deep oceans

  Living upon the only wants

  But not on the needs

  Failing to hold back time

  The roads lead us nowhere

  Stumbling on broken glasses

  The shelter take away

  And falling down undone

  What was left behind

  May never be the same again

  Whispering between the only thoughts

  Uncomfortably slow the life passes

  The silent sigh calls us back

  Into the fog of the dry season

  High on the slow moving skies

  The stars are torn apart

  Between the rusty clouds

  Soaked in the mid winter

  Until the glowing spring

  Washes those tears away

  Paintings on the empty blooms

  Memories carved on stones

  Picking up the last of the wishes

  Spending some time to

  Take the breaks

  And leave the stories, unfold.

  Went Away

  Standing in the door

  With a strangers look

  On it’s face, with

  Dark and deep eyes

  Deep as an ocean

  Like an endless sky.

  Standing there, waving at me

  When everything around

  Is motionless

  And though trying to say

  What may never be

  Said again.

  And it said: ’ I’m the glass through’

  ‘Which you can’t see your tomorrow

  ‘I’m the twist you can’t turn’

  ‘And the finger you can’t’

  ‘Hold on to’

  ‘Or count on.’

  ‘I’m the one you can’t see’

  ‘But know that is there’

  ‘And the one you know’

  ‘Belongs to you’

  ‘The one you still waste’

  ‘Knowing that it won’t return.’

  ‘You can’t catch me’

  ‘But once you do’

  ‘You wouldn’t have to live’

  ‘Upon misery like others.’

  And that was time

  Standing in the door

  Just reminding me

  To not to waste it

  And that time went away

  Just like a blow of wind

  With a blink of an eye

  And it never came back.

  Words Of A Free Wonderer

  There is the deep ocean

  Where one could plunge into

  There are the words of glory

  Which one could speak

  Within the hearts

  There is the success

  Which one could aim

  Without any boundaries

  There is the love

  Which one could obtain

  By random acts of kindness

  There is the garden

  Where one could wonder

  Without any worries

  There is the comfort

  Where one could rest forever

  There is the road

  Which one could with believe

  That it may lead him to the right way

  There are the memories

  Which one could remember

  In the time of sorrow

  There are the chances

  Which one could take to move on

  And yet, there’s still so much

  In life to explore, within itself.

 


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