Showing posts with label Poetry Corner. Show all posts

I set myself free





My definition of freedom is being free at an individual level; from yourself also at times, from over thinking, from accepting what comes your way and also from accepting people for who they are, their opinions and their thoughts. Most importantly, being able to say 'NO' when it's needed and prioritising yourself first is the biggest form of freedom because self respect is of utmost importance that must take precedence over everything else. Here I was, penning down my thoughts:


I SET MYSELF FREE ...

I set myself free from the turbulence within my soul
and the endless thoughts in my mind!

I set myself free ...
From considering others before me,
And from letting them invade my emotional territory!

I set myself free ...
From saying yes to all nonsense
And from letting others use me!

I set myself free ...
By saying no and having the courage to disagree ...

I set myself free ...
By questioning judgements
and accepting diverse opinions ...

Flying was never this easy
Until I set myself free from the shackles of my own thoughts!

Above all, I set myself free from giving a damn!

(I had chocolate and I really did set myself free)


And then this fine Sunday, my pet bird, Kotlet decided to have fun, becoming a model in front on the camera! 



                                     

Follow your Heart!


Follow your heart,
and leave the world aside.
Focus on that true calling,
and don't let your soul subside.
You only live once,
and once is not enough ...
If all you did was to follow the herd,
amidst a sloughy terrain.
Follow your dreams while you're still awake,
and leave all opinions aside.
Trust your heart for your own sake,
for at least you can say, 'I tried!'
Though sometimes you may be lost,
and caught amidst a stormy traverse ...
Just continue sailing with a firm belief in yourself ...
For you are worth an entire universe.

Confession of a Nomad


Confession of a Nomad

 One day I will disappear,
and no one will know where ...
Engulfed in my lonely exile,
I shall befriend nature and let silence be my guide.
The mountains will be my home,
calming down the turbulence within.
The sky will be the ally of my very soul,
with abundant stars to confide in.
I'll clear away my trail,
in pursuit of peace and perseverance ...
and be ready to be swept away by the sweet gale,
that unlocks the Earth's fragrance.
A part of me is found in all the places I have visited,
yet I am lost.
Despite the scattered parts of my soul,
I continue drifting aloft ...
 

Life in general ...


My Friend, Rose ...


I became friends with a rose,
not realising it won't last long.

Inspired by its beauty, I wrote poetry and prose,
that the humming bird composed into a merry song ...

It finally withered, leaving me with a shattered heart,
but left behind fragrant memories to cherish in all seasons.

I preserved each drying petal,
as a souvenir of the short lived friendship.

I am now a different person,
for a part of me aches for the loss and loneliness.

I look forward to blooming flowers and the rising sun,
anticipating the reflection of my lost friend, Rose ...

Yet a part of me is glad for the sweet memories of a soul completely irreplaceable ...

She (Vol. 2)

She is fire,
She is ice!
She is sugar,
She is spice!

She is the perfect soul that all aspire to possess,
yet someone who is profoundly despised.
When thwarted, she is not quite herself …
but a lady when obliged.

She is a well for eager minds,
but an aura of draught for vacuous kinds.
She is happiness, she is sorrow,
she is madness, she is sanity!

People wonder why she is often on cloud nine,
while a few delight when she is silently blue.
Altogether she is just fine,
though her resident personalities are a stark contrast!

She is the last page of every book,
yet the first line of each new chapter.
She is predictable to a great extent,
yet her unpredictability does a conspiracy stir …

She is a riddle unsolved,
that most have derailed searching answers for.
She is the scent of old books,
Which very few afford to read these days …

LETTER OF AN APS MARTYR TO HIS PARENTS


16.12.15

Dear Mom & Dad,

I never knew education was a crime,
until it dawned upon us on December 16.
But rest assured that Heaven just feels fine,
where everyone is happy and souls clean.

For all my friends that I helped escape,
I felt a surge of victory.
although I paid the price with life,
the pain was ephemeral and transitory.

It hurt for a while,
as I lay sprawled across the floor.
But the very thought of you made me smile,
and forget the agony till its core.

And that was my last message for you,
as we exchanged our final goodbyes.
Let go of my uniform stained in crimson hue,
for the sake of your own drying eyes!

I’m sorry to have left you so soon,
that resulted in such a spacious vacuum!
I come to meet you every day,
and to say goodbye in another way …

Today as the nation holds us in remembrance,
let them know that some stains are there to stay.
They should retaliate with the same perseverance,
lest the ignorant few are led astray!

I know you grieve with each breath you take,
I only thought of you with each breath the left!
In your heart I shall live forever,
Until we meet in another world …

Your Loving Son! 





144 Stories - A Mother's Thoughts


It's December already,
knowing that my time froze a year back;
I am still not ready ...
to let go of that backpack!

I wake up to drag him out of bed,
and brush his disheveled hair;
not realising he's long been dead,
despite which I feel his presence everywhere!

They say he took a bullet each,
for all friends that he saved.
So was the destination he would reach,
through his heroic demeanour that the survivors praised.

I still anticipate his arrival,
holding the sweater he asked me to knit;
while a part of me awaits the reprisal,
to avenge those scoundrels bit by bit!

Nothing can calm my vehement silence,
nor the outpour of my dried tears.
I succumb to my very own defiance,
of the reality that every mother fears.

144 stories, 144 lives,
are not meant to gather dust in public archives.
We will not forget their abrupt conclusion,
 written in red ink through a nasty seclusion.

On the death anniversary of flowers,
we share a unified sorrow;
for they were crushed quite brutally,
but their fragrance lingers on ...   


 

Ode to Coco


 

I hear opera songs echoing from the cage,
ear splitting shrieks, and bowls being flipped with rage.
'Naughty bird!' she then berates herself,
'Chup hojao!' she claw picks a word from her vocabulary.
I wake up to her capricious nature,
'Pretty bird', she yells her morning signature.
Asking for kisses is her ritual,
she then runs a horse carriage with a hurl.
My Whatsapp buzzes, indicating a notification,
I realise not that it's Coco and not my active gadget.
Her self praises are endless,
amidst her food and watery mess.
And there's more to this feathered notoriety,
which is a noisy resident of this beautiful city ...

P.S: Kotler (my Alexandrine Parakeet) has been plucking his feathers perhaps due to the sheer embarrassment caused by Coco saying, 'Kotler, give me a kiss!'

She ...



An air of coldness was around her,
Yet a glow of warmth would surround her.
She was a symbol of hope,
Yet a reflection of despair.
Her smile was a literary trope,
Yet her temper a volcanic glare.
She was a mystery unsolved,
With thoughts disputed and unresolved.
Her mind was a treasure unexplored ...
But silently it often roared.
She was two souls locked in one,
The key of which was possessed by none!


Thinking and just thinking …



I am tired to thinking even while sleeping,
of dreaming a daily episode …
As I encounter my shadow creeping,
it lingers to pen down a fortnightly episode.

‘I am done struggling,’ tells my soul,
‘For I am heavy with thoughts!’
‘Don’t hurl me towards your unruly goal …’
‘in the hapless pursuit of connecting the dots.’

I try to free myself from the whims of excellence,
and let my soul float.
As it escapes the cage of the worldly turbulence,
we peacefully sleep on a good note …

‘You will be where you are destined to be …’
‘… there’s no use being abode to the destruction within.’
‘There’s a line beyond which you should see,’
‘but be gratified and do not wear thin …’ 
'Sit, relax and watch life happen.' says my soul.

Peshawar Massacre ... A Mother's Thoughts


As I woke up to get my boy ready for school,
I made sure to pack his favourite snack.
Oh! But am I such a fool,
not to remember the deadly attack!?

As I succumb to a new chapter of mourning,
I long for his gleaming eyes.
With my own eyes uncontrollably pouring,
I hold on to his books and toys!

That innocent smile worth a thousand unsaid words,
is now just a memory.
The government promises made through a thousand spoken words;
seem nothing but temporary.

How can I forget that excitement,
for being gifted a toy car?
And that very indictment,
of emptying up the cookie jar?

The first day of school will never be the same,
for this sorrow inflicted heart.
I seem to have lost a purpose and aim,
as we are Heavens and Earth apart.

Folding the uniform yet again,
I kiss it goodbye,
Calming the hollowness within,
I stare at the sadly reflecting sky!

Overwhelmed by the deafening noise,
I glance through the door;
realising it is that of the school van,
that actually comes no more …