Showing posts with label My Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Poetry. Show all posts

Hope

Thursday, January 5, 2012 by B.H.

Could I then just snuff out the flames –
Lest – at last my dewy eyes –
Extinguish my hopes –
Within ablaze, splendid flares –
Adorned on the candlewick

Could I then just efface your name –
Carved behind the solid black broken door –
Of my numb muse – and essence
Of crushed rose-scented liliaceous plants
Crimson-red with lacey rifts
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Saturday, July 16, 2011 by B.H.



If she is –– to weave a cambric dream
On the side of a stream – in the meadow green
With no crinkles –– nor any needlecraft
Tracing a stark pattern of my felicitous grimace
And so that lady is forever mine.

If she is –– to glean in a sack of linen
The battalions of rippling scarlet harvests
And – to stir that all in the heather mixture
For me alone – on the leaf-crested ground
And so that lady is forever mine.

If she is –– to show me a purified town
Inside the piquant water or the sea chain
Washed grounds – by her so many tears
And dispersed nuggets that shed off her eyes
And so that lady is forever mine.




- B. Etch.
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Oh prancing letters!

Saturday, April 30, 2011 by B.H.

Oh prancing letters! – aggrieving the mind,

Waltzing upon the – bending stream,

Meaning – ivory tippet of that lady kind –

Nor the zilch essence of a forgotten dream.

All the letters –– I can remember

Are not as fine as this ––

Musings of plush ––

Velvet-textured –– square paragraphs,

Profundity –– as deep –– as dying crimson ––

Scattered on the canvas ––

Hid in the magic box ––

And in the splashes of mincing bucketfuls ––

And sometime –– when thou playest a tune ––

With that buzzing bee of Potwar

In sleep

Yet upon thy golden palms ma’am ––

Each dawn is last, thou dost say.

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From My Book Of Dreams

Wednesday, March 16, 2011 by B.H.
I have seen,
The nights being showered with the scent -
Of when the lady-of-the-night blooms,
And when the desires become fragrant,
Under indigo skies and salmon clouds -
And in azure eventides...
Pressed summer damask roses,
In the notebooks of the wishful thinkers...
I have felt
Summers' winds blazing away -
The eye sockets of elderly souls...
I have seen,
The lush energy of rippling of -
The very first ripe strawberry...
And strawberry geranium hiding -
The patches of soil in the backyard...
I have seen,
The emptiness and sunshine -
My guests - on the same day...
Aircrafts spewing hazy stallions-shaped clouds,
In the month of March...
And thorny bushes bruising the bosoms -
Of freshly arrived lovebirds...
And paintings of dreamt up fantasies...
I have seen,
People searching for truth, innocence -
And even God - in mortals...
I have seen and wondered,
And wondered some more...
On ivory sand deserted beaches,
In the violet-coloured Mornings...
And while treading carelessly -
Over the scattered daisies...
And yes, I have seen,
Withered daisies, barren lands...
And people watering them -
With tears...
I have seen,
People ageing in moments,
First, soulless manikins,
And then forehead wrinkles, hollow bones,
And twitching eyelids till the end...
I have felt,
The crimson-yellow feeling -
Of deaths of humans...
And of missing the better days -
In the best days...
I think, I have seen -
You in my dreams...
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Words on Paper

Sunday, February 27, 2011 by B.H.

Paper neath the pen,
Looks at me with a knowing smile,
Asks me the reason behind my facial expression.
Paper neath the ink,
Tells me it's okay, for haps can be wrong at times,
And for that, we are not to be blamed..
Words lay naked on papers to be read.
Words written in silence, in mute testimony
As whispering winds play with poetic woes
The amalgam of mellow serenades between our hearts
And the howling chilly sounds of sorrow...
And sonorous tunes played on Cupid's bow
Words lay naked on papers to be read.
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If I could Bribe Her by a Daisy

Monday, December 27, 2010 by B.H.
If I could bribe her by a daisy
I’d pick the fairest of all –
From Potwar plateau to Cashmere
Bereft she was –– of what I know not
A splash of blue –– a sprinkle of violet
Formed her evenfall that knew no night
And she fell like a night –
She fell like the rain and the stars
Like the snow flakes –– of the Yule
Like the autumn leaves –– of a maple tree
Like the petals –– from a “sorry rose”
Like the teardrops –– from the beauteous eyes
And perished in the dappled grass ––
The grass once she walked through.
Amidst the December wood –– by the ebony
Therein – lies a blossom
A daisy – it must be
She found a star – a daisy it was
That did hoist her –– to chirk
And cheep…
That must end the night –
A night so dark and hazy
But who must’ve dropped the daisy?
Who oh who?
“I bribed her by a daisy.”

–– B.H.
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Wake-Up Call

Wednesday, October 27, 2010 by B.H.

I like how a lavender-crimson-red evening swirls away ––
Like that kite in folly –– eludes with the gale
Out of the reach – it floats – just as hope… so far
Like that only dainty pearl –– a whole star
As bumpy as a tarn, as prim as a skylark,
Sparking in the heavens as a solitary mark

I carved a heart in the wood – where I had come
And carved your name which shone like the sun
To my gratification, I ran my hands on it
Until night –– till the scar got imprinted

And now I behold the sky in evenfall,
It’s blurred…
I flapped my hand before the eyeball,
I rubbed…
But mayhap some stars in the whole sky––
Are too shallow for the reach of my sight…

–– B.H.
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Solace

Monday, October 18, 2010 by B.H.


They sat by the lake – secluded yet together
Along with the torn letter’s pieces to smother
And then Autumn passed by –– And He took it all away…!
“Their secret’s been revealed –– Yet they have told no other”

I give up before I even think about starting it. Such diffidence – I have not experienced.

There’s so much in grate to combust for –– that can lighten up the whole series of the darkest nights.

But still, there’s an invisible push –– the lethal weight pressing down on me like a rotten society’s slants that keeps one low –– low as a thrall, grasps one by one’s wings, plucks its feathers oftentimes and –– keeps one low, in the dwelling –– from flying.
The hands, –– as transparent as water, as mighty as a lion, as keen as an owl, as nimble as a deer, press me downwards in a hallow hole –– in an abyss so deep that it takes centuries to fall and once I fall painlessly, it presses down on me even more inside the shallow rubbles until I penetrate them and get swallowed up by the abyss and eventually forget –– everything I once remembered.



I’m done with hoping, I’m done with dreaming, I’m done with trying.
Let’s pretend now. “Look what I’ve found… A raw hope – a wingless bird!”
Let’s walk with it – till we part.
And because, it feels good… Somehow, it makes me want to walk. Somehow… someway, I like to walk, when I’m with you.

Such lonely lives in togetherness! Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!
And ultimately the push will say: “Cull the no-hopers from the herd!”

Help. Solace. Oh God. The push is mightier.
Aghast!
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A Mask without the Face

Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by B.H.
A humble glimpse –
Of my fickle imaginations –
Spilled on the canvas
In a jiff –
An atrocious darkness
In a trice –
A glinting flutter ––
Days and nights
Then the darkness stilled…
The monsoon roared
And wrathfully splattered –
The transparent dread
And gushed in the maples and ebonies
And the yellow pale moon –
Hid behind the shuddering dense hazes
The owl against the glow –
Flew by
A gaggle gaggled –
In the sky
As I asked meekly a mask of his health –
Without the face

By B.H.
                                                                          Us Magazine
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Emily Dickinson

Sunday, September 5, 2010 by B.H.
Remember when I told you, “I strangely sometimes fall for dead people.”? I was not kidding. And then my love is not like just a crush, it is as deep as an abyss – an abyss so deep that your eyes will give up, your brain will cease thinking. I love them with all my breaths as I carve everything – trait, habits and style about them in my soul and run my fingers on the carving until it gets imprinted, I might sound insane and yes, we all have the right to go insane sometimes. When I was 14, I read somewhere that ‘they’ lived an isolated life, that sentence –– I have still not forgotten. See, what I figured out the meaning of isolation.

Solitude

Such a little room ––– I keep
Where teenage musings and I sleep
The ink yet in my pen is aware
At night my heart descends the stair
Dove at my door put a mar
A lightening bug escaped from jar
Who flied and glowed and dreamed and died
So secretly, the neighbors think –– I hide
Within these walls and windowpane
Away from clichés like hurt and pain
I’ve sealed my doors from the world so cold
While everyone breathe –– and grow old
Within my fence lies copious solitude
Such a lonely life with blue ingratitude
And lies in my backyard – desires’ flags unfurled
In a ruined dingy cemetery state –– once my world
So long ––– after my earthly grave
A girl –– on bench by the secluded lake
Will spread each page beautifully swept
O such a little room ––she’ll say –– I kept
By B.H

Us, The News

***

What N.A. says about the poem “Why do I love” You, Sir? by Emily Dickinson:
“One of our regular contributors, Bahadur Hussain, contributed the following poem by Emily Dickinson. The poem is an example of typical Dickinsonian verse – fragmentary and yet conveying a world of emotions through its extreme pithiness…”


“Why do I love” You, Sir?
By Emily Dickinson

“Why do I love” You, Sir?
Because –
The wind does not require the Grass
To answer – Wherefore when He pass
She cannot keep Her place.

Because He knows – and
Do not You –
And We know not –
Enough for Us
The Wisdom it be so –
The Lightning – never asked an Eye
Wherefore it shut – when e was by –
Because He knows it cannot speak –
And reason not contained –
Of Talk –
There be – preferred by Daintier Folk –

Te Sunrise – Sire – compelleth Me –
Because He’s Sunrise – and I see –
Therefore – Then –
I love Thee –


http://thenews.com.pk/newsmag/mag/detail_article.asp?id=654&magId=9


***


“Mujhe ishq kyn hai” Tum se, Janaab?
Kyn ke –
Hawa ko nahi hai zaroorat Ghaas ki
Jawaban – ke Wo guzray jab
Wo qaa’im nahi reh sakti.

Kyn ke Wo janta hai – aur
Kya Tum nahi –
Aur Hum nahi jantay –
Yeh buhat hai Humaray liye
Yeh Danaa’i se mutta’lliq’at –
Bijli ki chamak ne – Aankh se nahi kaha
Par Wo band ho gai – jab Wo yehan thi –
Kyn ke Wo janto hai Yeh nahi bol sakti –
Aur koi wajoohat bhi nahi –
Baaton ki –
Behter logo ki tarjee’hat mein se – ik yeh bhi

Tu’loo-e-Sooraj – Meri zaat – mujhe majboor karti hai –
Kyn ke wo Tu’loo-e-Sooraj hai – aur Main dekhti hun –
Isi liye – phir –
Main Tum se Ishq karti hun –

Translated by B.H. “Why do I love” You, Sir?
***




***


(Ode) To Emily Dickinson
By Bahadur Hussain


Like the saturated raindrops kiss
Parched lands – withered lilies-
Shrivelled roses – sear ferns
And gentlemen smell the meek aroma
Of funeral of their – gaudy thirst
Like your words – spill over my heart-
Your quenching and immortal words
My ecstasies – my drugs –
There! Behind your nitid eyes-
Was – the myth of kingdom – of ample wit-
Whose – knight still kills – my dreadful thirsts.
What shall I call your words – the musings – the solitude-?
The shooting stars in twilight-
Or the bittersweet feeling – of crimson pain
Or the frown of a rose ringed-parakeet
Or the warm suns of frigid winters-
Or all the blossoms – from Amherst to Cashmere?
Only If I could – take your solitude afar-
And you could – take my dreads away-
We would have not emerged –
As poets – but lovers
Though, you knew naught of me – but-
I shall love you forever;
Because – wind needs no grass to blow- ma’am!

Published in Us, The News International
http://thenews.com.pk/newsmag/mag/detail_article.asp?id=673&magId=9
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'Tis thy day

Friday, August 6, 2010 by B.H.

By Bahadur Hussain
Published in Us, The News International.

For thee I shall pen a poem
With no Shakespearian words
Nor like any glistering quotation
Nor like the antique birthday song

But like a tittering toil by a cunning heart,
Of - they hath not heard
Long...I waited for thy day to sun
Before time flies with the wafting leaves-

I shall, inflame the candles with sun
Dress the ballooning flossy clouds
Write thy name on the glowing moon
Sprinkle the fairy dust, white the gloom

To enfold it in beguiling glossy sheets
I shall steal it from its earth
Shall I fill these airs with flowers,
Ah, 'tis thy birthday my love!

I am a bird hailing from thy window
With a gleeful poem written in secluded heart
With a glinting moon held in yellow beak
With a gleaming twinkle of love in adust eyes

O lady! Thou canst take the moon,
Only if - Thou dost take me thy lad,
For the sake of my sleepless nights
For the pains I took in toils...
http://thenews.com.pk/newsmag/mag/detail_article.asp?id=762&magId=9

For a very, very, very special friend *heart* (not girlfriend =p)
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So here I am

Sunday, August 1, 2010 by B.H.

O Earth! Thou my mother,
To thee, I bow, I smirk.

But might I fly over thee
And look for bread and butter

Dare I betray thee?
A million times dare!

So here I am, ended up waiting, waiting on the muse. My sire compelth me to stay
I know my toils’ worth, I do ask not for it. And I want no words to lose.


But what hinders me is the time
Appears a poet in disguise
A boy with cauldron of rhymes
The boy who believes in vat of lies –– fairytales, rainbows, falling stars and butterflies
Hath turned out to be lies
Oh why!

So here I am, O World

Waiting on the sun
Darkness all unfurled
The day’s just begun.
World torn asunder,
Amidst the white-hot flashes
I hear the rolling thunder,
I look down upon the ashes.

So here I am, Heaven!
Waiting on a prayer!
The bread that wouldn’t leaven
The pain I couldn’t bear.

Inside I know the truth
But my sins are not atoned
I, a prisoner of my youth
Thou, the king upon his throne

Here I am. Away, away from clichés like hurt and pain.
Numbed wholly, and they call me insane.
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Why do you poetize the life?

Wednesday, July 14, 2010 by B.H.
By B.H.



“How shall I wonder not, and ask?
The answers you hide – to unmask”
She looked suspicious –– I had to tell her–––
About the mystery –– ironical and artificial
“If you could spill your dreams out of yourself”
Now she gleams, or it merely seems
A fickle stillness surrounds the place
Of an inside out imagination –– a craze
But no word can tell ––the reason
A walk with solitude? A ride to past?
I asked myself, but–– I told her about
A jolly parrot with no frown––
But a folly smile on its face
It could sing the serenades of love
Far better than the angels of heaven above
A coven – prettiest choir singers
The feelings of love – an innocent felon
Roads ––that sailed and I just stood still
An owl that amused them with its musings
About the giggles of sparrows, the chirps of girls
And about a coward scarecrow and evil crows
How is it living a life –?
A good – in a bad – a life in fog
I told her – pointing at a flossy cloud
“It looks like us” before the sea view
She listens, smiles and kisses my cheek
Quicksilver imaginations! –
Sigh. It was mere a dream.
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Dwelling of Past

Thursday, July 8, 2010 by B.H.
By Bahadur Hussain
(Published in Us, The News International)
July 09, 2010.

As if a pile of dirt - tramples my heart
As if a deep abyss - calls my name
And leaves me - a reason to fall apart
As if shackled in - sore cold chain
And I still live in - that dwelling of past
In those snows of love in the year - last
When thy departure seemed - ail in frost...


And it kills a part of me each time
Ailing from inside
Ailing from outside
But where will I go and hide?
If the dwelling is built in my mind...
But I have so many delights to see
Apart from this longing to be free
From the cold shackles
In such a life - not ample
And of eternal longing
Of happiness...
Yet another illusion



So I look at the sky
And shed silent tears
And wish a wish
The raindrops fall
To wash away my tears
To save me from all my fears
To take me away from all my cares...
http://thenews.com.pk/newsmag/mag/detail_article.asp?id=695&magId=9
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My Cell Phone’s draft box – The things that I think

Sunday, June 27, 2010 by B.H.
This is what my cell phone draft box has in it. Today, I am removing the-things-that-I-think.

25-June-10 2:59 pm
She is stupid, dumb yet respected
He is misunderstood genius thus dejected

25-June-10 2:07 pm
I love you, and that girl in pink.

23-june-10 9:01 pm
I felt like a girl, not functionally but habitually…

22-June-10 12:13 am
When I read her blog I hear the peaceful serenades
When I read my own diary I hear the electric guitars

21-June-10 11:34 pm
I like to lick the white muse in an Oreo.

21-June-10 5:38 pm
I wish I were a bird, or at least that smoke from the chimney…

21-June-10 5:15 am
I dreamt that I was fighting for wrong and comparably weak side. Morning dream! Sigh. I guess I’m born to be a loser.

20-June-10 4:10 pm
There’s nothing I feel in heart but the ache and beat, every thing is in head, even you my love.

13-June-10 10:55 pm
I look uncomforted, she looks suspicious, we are on date, we talk in whispers, I hold her hand, she smiles and whisper, just a whisper and some whispers. Yes, we are on a roller coaster

11-June-10 12:05 am
Bad day… good day!
Thou – a curse – I wish not thy sun to rise
And tonight when thou goest in sleep
I shall burn thee on a pyre
I do not adore the eclipse
I do not wish the toil
Bad day… good day!
I hope thou dost not rise again

10-June-10 11:48 pm
I just wanted to get hit by a bus, but I was unlucky enough to make it to home.

07-June-10 8:39 pm
Moon is pale, what’s its ail?
Why is it sad? What is the tale?
Had its lover drowned? ‘cause he could not sail?
Or did he do wrong and sent to jail?

07-June-10 10:02 am
In the days of dark knights
Why did you not come?
Why did you not save me?
Even when they…
Sliced me into two…

05-June-10 1:02 am
I caressed its wings; it frowned and bit me on my finger.

05-June-10 1:00 am
Doomsday: - As the examiner stepped towards me, I gripped the arms of my chair fiercely and mumbled all the mystical prayer I knew, and then I faced the music.

05-June-10 12:47 am
She… in the black and she in the white are both sisters, but that boy in the red and the other in yellow are not brothers…

05-June-10 12:46 am
I stood in the rain, soaked from head to toe, and then I thought in dismay, I should open the umbrella.

05-June-10 12:44 am
I thought I am mad for her but not made for her…

05-June-10 12:41 am
When I gained consciousness, the witch was still chanting the incantation.

03-June-10 05:01 pm
Three awesome things in a row
Way to go way to go
That rhymes a bit, no?

02-June-10 1:59 am
7 Impossible things: (pathetically secret draft)

01-June-10 02:21 pm
Every shoulder’s vanishing and I’m crying on walls. Sigh.

31-May-10 5:25 pm
I wrote what they taught
But never came in handy…
Sigh!
I should have learned it by heart,
Now it’s not like eating candy…

31-May-10 5:11 pm
(Wrote ‘poison’ in design)

30-May-10 12:57 pm
Rais Bano’s book in the market.
New Day – poetry book.

29-May-10 2:06 pm
(Wrote a long ode to Emily Dickinson, which I’ll share sometime)

28-May-10 08:08 am
I am expecting thee O little bird – thou my lucky charm
Thou hast not come –
My eyes hath wilted
Why hast thee not come?
Thou – O bird…

25-May-10 11:25 pm
I had no flair to wait,
Until I met you…
And left me
Boundaries of pain
Stars unseen –
Flowers unsmell’d
I had no talent to dwell
Until I met you…

25-May-10 6:12 pm
I love my life for it made me meet you: Trying to be happy,
I hate my life for it made me meet you: Wake up and smell the coffee

24-May-10 11:52 pm
Alone – Lonely – loner
In the togetherness of thee
In the mystique of inspirations
Images are mystical – but ability is ailed
O writer’s block! Shoo! Go away!

24-May-10 10:38 pm
All but death – can be adjusted (Emily Dickinson)

23-May-10 11:43 pm
Haikus
Harsh loneliness
A cruel mask of despair
Let me put it off
* * *
I see no change
And I have grown up
Why don’t they?

18-May-10 7:57 pm
I don’t make poetry; it makes me – my immortality.

14-May-10 7:09 pm
Ancestry dot com (some website I saw on Geo TV but never opened)

08-May-10 4:54 pm
I love thee, thou lovest me
I turn in thee, thou in me…
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Dreamland

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

http://thenews.com.pk/newsmag/mag/detail_article.asp?id=564&magId=9
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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...
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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.

http://thenews.com.pk/newsmag/mag/detail_article.asp?id=515&magId=9
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The death of my poem

Friday, April 16, 2010 by B.H.

By Bahadur Hussain

Published in Us, The News International

Pages are burnt - pens are broken

Passions are ailing - hearts are crying
Instead of myself I wonder
Why the roses are dying?

http://thenews.com.pk/newsmag/mag/detail_article.asp?id=481&magId=9
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