What mad person...?

Sunday, May 30, 2010 by B.H.
How is it living a life when everything you see is actually not what you see... when moon is just a yellow apple - sun is but a burning disco ball - life is but a sleep and forgetting - if those twinkling eyes of your beloved are mere a pair of marbles - if you could make roads in lakes and lakes in roads - if you could shatter the moon and divide the pieces among the needy - if you could make a witch out of a tree and if you can fly without the wings on magic carpets if you could make a parrot sing heavenly songs and if you could scare the scarecrow and make it run away from the fields! If you could amuse a goat and if you could make it laugh...
But still they ask...Why do I scribble about the enigma of fog, about the frown of rose ringed-parakeet.. about crimson pain... What mad person...?
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I should never think...

by B.H.

Never think by Robbert Pattinson

It can be very peaceful sometimes even amid bustles of life, 'tis what music is for... To take one away from one's cares afar...

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Fog - an enigma

by B.H.

Fog… maybe is good and there is a possibility that it’s evil.
It can hide a poor soul; yet can trap one in snare.
My love for fog is as certain as death. And I am as faithful as one’s shadow to it.
But does it love me the way I do? If I plunge myself into it, will it swallow me
Will it hide me from the immortal solitude? Fog uncertain like life or certain like death. Fog... I have always loved it…
Like a blind man trust his inner eyes. Yes, I can afford playing with my life.
I shall wander in fog… and search for soul…
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Haiku'd Birthday

Sunday, May 23, 2010 by B.H.

I had the best/cheapest birthday ever yesterday, and my day was constantly interrupted by my siblings' and a friend's creativity. And then my haiku challenge was accepted by my bro, cousin sis, dad and by a friend and they did not disappoint me. The response was so good, So, I decided to post all haiku here. Haha Billz rocked the challenge and then waris bagged 2nd position Aimz 3rd and Dad 4th! :D

So another year falls
Of my traveller-like life with
Some deeds undone

***pardon me, If I've breached 5-7-5 uncool syllable rule***

My bro Bilawal's:

Aren’t you so fancy
To think of this little game?
Here, I’ll humor you

In vain I create
Something great so I can win
I’m competitive

Birthday cheers to you
This is your gift by the way
So enjoy it now

I could get mushy
Really, what would be the point?
You know how I feel

I’d write like you
But sigh it is my vacation
So my brain’s shut off

Instead I’ll just write
Bro, you always rock my world
Now repeat after me


I’ll try to be cool
with a fun birthday greeting
that rhymes a bit too!


Another year young
Loved by family and friends
Happy Birthday bro

A Birthday Haiku
That is a dumb idea
I shall not do it

I dislike haiku
I wish you wouldn’t want it
Still, Happy Birthday

My dad's haiku was really fun, We were litterally rolling on floor laughing out loud, These deeds of love mean a lot to me :D How can I ever thank/repay you guys for making this day so special for me! specially my dad, I Love my dad more than any thing!! *heart*
And since it was my birthday... So I penned a quick written kind of poem last night as well...
Year Fall- Saal Gira
Thus another year of my traveller-like life falls down,
With some deeds undone, few words unsaid,
Wafted away with whispering winds and dried leaves
Took away my living togetherness and dying lonliness
Every moment passing - my journey towards a house
A house that is mere a pile of clay - my grave - my home
Like others around this year knew no loyalty -
For It also left- with some stars unseen, some tears unshed...


Friday, May 21, 2010 by B.H.
Published in Us, The News International
21st May 2010

By Bahadur Hussain

Beams from beacon fall onto the meadows,
Colouring the paintings, tracing the shadows-

And the flickering flames of the tapering candles
With the storming wind, the lightning thunder;

A scarecrow runs in swaying golden fields
While raindrops perch on the glossy leaves

Parrots of the world sing heavenly songs
As the angels strum the magical guitars

And staring of suns and biting of apples
Some sparrows laughing in the maples

And calling of summit through the beacon
So I lead the flocks towards the heaven



Thursday, May 20, 2010 by B.H.
Sometimes I feel the fog around me is getting thicker, and the visions are becoming a little more unclear. And sometimes I think my words don't make sense - of course words in randomization are not much worth praising, but they have an advantage too - that is, they don't unveil/reveal much of your thoughts - specially when you are writing diary or a very personal page.

The scary feeling often hovers around and why? Maybe responsibilities? Well, in my case I'd say, no! I'm just 18 and I think I am still free - like a bird that is about to be caged. And what I like about fog is similar to me - fog is free as Carl Sandburg puts in,
Fog comes
On little cat feet.

It sits looking
Over harbour and city
on silent haunches
And then moves on...
Pardon me, If I've written this a little wrong. But the point is that fog cannot be shackled - as its physique is mere a tuft of smoke. And foggy images are like mystery to me - that gives me a feeling of curiosity, It fascinates me through its beguiling look that there is something hidden which is yet to be discovered.

So, the scary feeling is because of three scores and ten. One score makes 20. So, three scores and plus 10, total 70. According to The Bible, man is given 70 years (average) on earth. And I know, even a kid knows that death falls in our equation perfectly. So it leaves me nothing for leisure. It makes my journey full of labour. Death will come one day, and I'll give my labours and leisures for His civility.

And then moods stick their tongue malevolently to us often. Sometimes they take me in the deeps of philosophical thoughts and sometimes they take me in the parks - where youth play football with their destinies. Sometimes, I think, what if all the world starts thinking and give away all the leisures and luxuries. They won't argue or the great era of argue-ism would take birth. Firstly, the world will go on as it is supposed to. Secondly, all the five fingers are not equal. So, there can be some people who think. And it is necessary for this world to run that it should have all kinds of pieces - humans - rebels, obedients, criminals, disables and able ones.

Loner-ism is an other thing which relates to me very much. If I was not a loner I would not have been writing this. And there is a stage in life when you think that everything is over and that's when it all starts. And there is a quotation regarding poetry that says, when an image comes to you and you fail to find a word for it in all the dictionaries, then you become a poet. Well, personally, I don't get it... Normally, it happens with someone when one is having writer's block. How come a person becomes a poet when he can't even find a word for what he thinks. Maybe, by poet they meant 'philosopher' or someone who thinks (like they say) 'out of the world', maybe they meant a mad person as a poet. Well, I'll find out about it if I find a person worth asking in my life somewhere.

There has always been a question hovering in my mind that is 'What was God's duty/leisure/work/purpose before the creation of this universe?' Someone told me that like gold needs human to value it. God needs creatures to value/worship Him. But the answer did not touch me.

I will ask... If I find a person worth asking...

My Glimmering Beloved

Thursday, May 13, 2010 by B.H.
For a person that is blind - not by sight but by heart - She sees but ignores - the love that is being showered on her by friends and family - she calls herself an isolated, loner and dejected soul. She is fascinating - everything in her - her habits, face and her words attract me. This poem (ode) - I wrote, was mere a gift for her. If one reads between the lines, one can tell that how pure her soul is.

Let the orange of love spill
And let it sprinkle the magic
Let the dusk die and dawn begin
And water the ecstasy living within
Now shall I call you the pile of beauty?
And a crimson feeling of life?
Shall I take your hand in mine?
And shower you with ample love?
Oh, what shall I call your smile?
A dewdrop on lily?
Or the aroma of rain and soil?
A shooting star?
Or a red young rose?
Oh how stunningly mesmerising
It looks on you.
As my heart flies on its wings-
pouring the fairy dust behind-
To the seventh cloud....
But I shall come one day
To pluck you away-
From this nescient world
O my glimmering beloved!
(Bahadur Hussain)
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Meaningless Words

Thursday, May 6, 2010 by B.H.

Bahadur Hussain

Words -my poetic woes
Zilch and nihilistic
I --- alone in such infinite world -- of words-
And books --- my mystique-
Beautifully written with blood,
Meek and mild,
Envied by materialization of dreams.
Words --- sail in ocean --- hail from heaven
Words --- night is dread --- stars are red--
Words --- no more clichés, no more antique-
In randomization.
Words --- come to me --- with sticking tongue
Evilly yet lovingly then frighten me.
Words --- needles and threads
Meaningless epics.
Words --- I do have not --- they do
Love --- for me --- for you,
My everything.
To you --- for me --- mere a word.
To her --- my woes are words
To me --- are humans with brains
Words --- fireflies of nights
Shadows of noons --- twinkling of stars
Aches of hearts --- sunsets and cries-
Hellos and goodbyes --- words...

I Had No Time To Hate, Because

Tuesday, May 4, 2010 by B.H.
I had no time to hate, because
The grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I
Could finish enmity.

Nor had I time to love, but since
Some industry must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.
(Emily Dickinson)

Sonnet 01

Sunday, May 2, 2010 by B.H.
Bahadur Hussain
Us, The News International

Fragrance of blossoms flies in the air,
A lewd scent, enfolds the deep desire,
And forces me to inhale in despair.
My nose in pain from its alluring pyre
An addicting chemical, the content,
With each whiff brings death close,
A poison! Not doubtfully devil sent,
The portal to hell made in but one dose.
I realize how evil its purpose is,
And beg my soul for release of the smell.
But death slowly comes, and with a quick kiss,
Freezes the corpse in its enchanted spell.
I lay on the ground, dead carcass and bare,
Knowing I paid the price, the toll, the fare.