Showing posts with label this n that. Show all posts
Showing posts with label this n that. Show all posts

crescent-shaped candles

Wednesday, December 28, 2011 by B.H.

By evening, (it’s when I wake up) it’s violet…all over. And BANG! The light goes out, which (ironically) makes things more beautiful. As December wears on, the weather in Islamabad is getting (un)pleasantly dry in a horribly cold way. Winters’ keen tooth bit me too, among others’. And I have been sniffing and coughing ever since. I wake up…and brush my teeth and just feel this insane urge to slap my cheeks with the aftershave. I look in the mirror and then I look away and look in the mirror again, then I look away again, feeling worse. (Did you know that the objects in mirror are always farther than they appear?) I get dressed and comb my hair. And then look in the mirror again. ‘Why don’t I look devastatingly handsome anymore?’. ‘But still something, eh!’, ‘Or maybe, too sharp?’. And so I rid my head of my anxieties and insecurities for a while. As I shake it.
Nom. Nom. Nom. Munch. Munch. Munch. Pancakes. Just one large bite on each slice does it. As though chewing the wood with iron teeth (if that’s even legit). Reaching at work. Occupying the station. Few games of Table Tennis. Two cups of my imperfect tea. Few strangers ogling as if I have come from the Mars (They can’t possibly know that, can they?). I go through the day (or should I say…night?) just like that. But last night, being a rebel that I am, I bought an icecream but just after just a few licks, few drops of drizzle ruined it but I still licked the leftover crummy slush of sweet cream and water shamelessly. I hang with usual people with unusual accents. That crack newer jokes. Talk loud. And put on big smiles. All this while, I keep on thinking if I cross someone’s mind…somewhere out there? Or just a passing thought? Something about me? Never knowing what’s happening or should I even fix this? I don’t even know what’s absent? What need to be fixed? Anything? Nothing? Or maybe everything? 
Posted in From: , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Rose petals on grave

Monday, May 16, 2011 by B.H.

Look at you! You look like a happiness-deprived person, insanely coveting the energizing source like you would hope for a frosty bottle of your favorite drink while wandering in a scorching desert. I guess everything would be pretty funny without attachments, I mean that – in both ways. I feel like, I’m caught in a twister; flying around countless spirals. Circles, with no end to them. It’s not pleasant. My fingers scrabble at my throat to loosen the tension of this invisible cord that is choking me and I don’t find it.


I’ve spent my all day hoping that I’d feel better because I have a worldly end to attain. This fever of resentment has affected me worse today but tomorrow you’ll see me at bay. I have so many strangest words to write off – tonight – but I’m not going to do that – like always. Enough poetic bullshit! Why do I always have to sound like a moron? Every cloud has a silver lining and this cloud has one too –– because I have so many things on my list that I won’t even have the time to think about things that don’t matter anymore. And that’s it.

I think I’m okay now.

Posted in From: , , , , , , | 0 Comments »

Where am I and how far is it to heaven?

Monday, May 9, 2011 by B.H.

Where am I and how far is it to heaven?

I’m ready to go; I had fastened the Belt

Too long ago!

So letting it go –– and crossing the brink ––

Bonnets may blow –– in the wind!

For I dwell not anymore –– upon Graven Ink

Old –– we grow with Desires that float to sink ––

Eventually though.

But – dare I steal the quill feather ––

of your white-hot hat, ma’am?

So the ink could flow –– to heal the kink.

Where am I and how far is it to heaven?

How odd it sounds!

Like those violet rifts ––

Within the grey clouds in cerulean sky

Exceptions!

Goodbye to the life I used to live

Kiss the Flowers and the Hills for me ––

Bid the Rainbows goodbye!

And look upon the times just once

When I tended the daisies for you ––

‘Twas the smallest hour of all

That felt longer than a century ––

Stepped onto the falls together

And brushed the summers by.

I will send You – this Gem from my ring ––

How dim it sounds –– like the murmur of the Bee –– on a rainy day –

Rustle of the fencing –– in the longest night

I’m ready to go to the town –

Strewn with the Down

Where autumn leaves glow as ruby across the walkways

And there! The poetess of my dreams!

Such a small room she keeps.

Almost contented people. Bliss, Oh Lord!

Where am I and how far is it to heaven?

How fair it sounds!

When I lie down and hear the murmur of Nature ––

And sleep ––

On the heavenly grounds.


- B. Etch.

Posted in From: , , , , , , , , , | 0 Comments »

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.

Posted in From: , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Verbosity

Thursday, February 24, 2011 by B.H.

I'll tell you what a dream's made of... The moment when a snowdrop windflower glistens against the Moonshine. An enchanting Ecstasy, a piece of mystic Paradise. Few prunella modularis' Chirps on a farsighted pine. Amalgam of feelings in an Exalted saint's disguise. It takes the air and moons on for none but a mislaid Joy. It yens for a lily-white daisy - the blood-red Dream. Then a fulminant Drift of fear and a winged-heart ally. That's how a dream open its eyes. But how it breaks is different than it could ever seem. A Cut of reality, pitiless Pain or glistening crimson Gleam, sorrow of Solitude and horror of Denial are different stories. It's like a funeral of Warmth that forbade the Cold. Funeral Of hope that shaped a shangri-la away from Trouble. A Dearth of tears on a mournful eve or when the night Trembles. The night whose hint is a long time but Wave is the year. And like a perpetually mazed sorrowful Twinkle in her eyes or when the Auburn Wisps whiten and when a coven of faeries Tumble down. When glossy Clouds of candyfloss glory flight afar. Because dewdrops are the games of morning-field of gazing grain - like Emeralds lolling down the bedewed blades of grass But there's a world dear, there's a world!


Last night I had a very bad dream about me failing in the exams again. I woke up at 3 in the morning and studied to satisfy the little frightened kid that lives inside me - like those oddballs I used to laugh at. Then the frightened child cowered in the corner of my bed and tried to sleep but just could not so I wrote those lines *points the index finger at the long-winded lines above*. I just had to do something with my sleepless night. To add to it, it was my exam today, Business Taxation. Business Taxation is my favorite subject and that is because of that awe-inspiring kind of professor. The exam did not go that well though. I was sad for a while but then I came out and found out that all my friends were rubbing their heads with a weird look on their faces and told me that it went horrible and all like all guys say after an exam. They said the topper will have to take the rest to Pizza Hut. And you know what, it'd be Ce or B.H. We are cool like that. I know I should not be fretting about it here and should be sitting next to my dad watching the match on TV or maybe I should be studying something for the next exam. Wait a second? Am I fretting? Nope! But I just can't feel it. A little misstep can make me feel so low.. I'm so tired.. I'm really tired. I want to sleep forever and a day! Someone slap me or something!
Posted in From: , , , , , | 2 Comments »

daisy-bush

Saturday, February 19, 2011 by B.H.

Today was incredulously dull. I felt oddly unstrained. Strange because, I have gotten back into the race... race where time begins to matter, the blood in your veins races with the hand of the clock face on your wall, cell phone, every screen, building - everywhere - every second. The tick tock reminds you of everything you must do before sleep and significantly, of curbing any further missteps that can throw you off balance and turn your world upside down.



I want to write it all and watch the flow of the ink and the thoughts of this glum mind, the black fluid and the glowering thoughts spread across the lily-white page in archaic bards' runes. Every move of the quill pen smooth and refined. Neat.  I want to. But,  I'm contagiously distressed so I will  just send the signals of distress over to you.
Posted in From: , , , , , | 0 Comments »

A cissy's 12-hour interval

Friday, January 28, 2011 by B.H.

Today my fave-friend the Ce got humiliated by Mr. Coolheaded Bald-pated for asking a question about something that Mr. Coolheaded Bald-pated was about to discuss.

Today, I learned all the three methods of recording cost entries viz. Lifo, Fifo, Average cost of material in material control ledger card and then posting the entries in separate ledgers under the mentioned methods and few more things.

Today, I smiled my best smile at something that’s a routine now.

Today, I told a friend what the word “sissy” actually means.

Today, some cyber friend I know for few months, asked me to meet him.

Today, Aimz made me a sandwich. That was quite unsolicited, but I ate it anyway, it was so nice of someone so not-really-nice-to-me.

Today, only Ce and I of fantastic-five were present and we had a great time together, we went to the café, we tried going in the Masters’ block to steal a magazine from their library that we couldn’t find in our library but we just didn’t go there because... Ce felt famished and we had to go to the café.

Today I told Ce that “Suck” isn’t a bad word, we, the friends should use it quite often… at home...ahem. He was actually convinced by the way I adorned my arguments.

And Usama was sick.

Today, I took part in an exhibition that is expected to take place in a few days. I have 70 Us’ issues and Bill has about 30 issues of Spider and few issues of Newsweek. Ce told me that he will take care of my stall, because that’s what friends do.

And I love it when some professor is being really nice to some dumb students. I realize that it’s a random blah. But, do I care?

Today, Doctor Saif was not wearing his glasses for some obscure reasons; everyone wondered what might have happened to him last night. So, majority couldn’t focus on what he was teaching.

Today, paper boy didn’t throw the newspapers (at us). I did not phone his boss about it.

Today, they did not publish Poets’ Corner in Us magazine.

Today, I found two pages on which few poems and love quotes were written, and a few doodles of an emo boy and a girl were there too. Poems were well written and sad. Ce told me that someone’s going to fail this year. I just smiled and prayed for that person in my head. And outside, I LOL’d.

Ce and I thought about playing volleyball, just thought.

Today sun’s not shinning. And it’s not really cold.


Today, I learned that they have changed Eman’s name, it’s “Raina” or “Ryna” now. Cute little infant Aww.

Today, Brown Sugar tried to do a prank but 29th of February is an oldie now, try again in next leap year Brown Sugar. But, I pretended I did not know. I like it when they take me as a fool.

Today, I haven’t still changed my uniform.

Today, I received a text message in the morning.

It’s three o’clock already and the light has no plans of going out.

Today, I thought about blogging but I had nothing to write about but I did it anyway.


Posted in From: , , , | 7 Comments »

Dreams

Saturday, January 15, 2011 by B.H.
All people dream, but not equally.
Those who dream by night in the dusty recess of their mind,
Wake in the morning to find that it was vanity.

But the dreamers of the day are dangerous people,
For they dream their dreams with open eyes,
And make them come true.

By D.H. Lawrence
Posted in From: , , | 6 Comments »

Amongst the Hiccoughs

Wednesday, January 12, 2011 by B.H.
Hey bloggy *pokes* been a while?
I feel bottled up right now but since I’ve logged in, I should leave a note. The days are going strange rather quaint. I, daily stare at and inside my olde worlde books and stuff the theoretical stuff off the pages – in my already saturated brain. At times, brainpan literally hurts. I hiccough on the sight of few theories, few problems that are unimaginable to me, stochastic digits and the spine-chilling definitions. But, it’s okay; I’m kind of, sort of…maybe exaggerating the fix. In reality, I like the situation. It is fun when you are (not really) alien to something and you’re grappling to master it, personally I like this practice. My sibling keeps on reminding me that I really have to work hard this time and every time he does so, I give him a go-away look, but he doesn’t understand the look-language and…you know he starts boring me. Speaking of boredom, you know I attend a lot of lectures, few at college and the rest at sweet home, few of them, I heed to and the rest, I hear but…so you can view the picture. Baba is in Karachi these days so I don’t get that motivational stuff that revolves around the gist that is “boosting the upshot” on regular basis these days.

Apart from all this, I’m growing a love-plant for literature again, read “for freaking pawn of Satan” which I’ll have to clip before it grows taller and bigger than one could imagine. Probably, because, I can’t afford distraction atm. I remember last year, when I used to write cool stuff on the last pages of my note books. Well. Must not talk of that.

There were times when I used to have nightmares regularly. Weird times. Nowadays, I covet for dreamless sleeps and I haven’t had one in an infinitely long time. The sleep –– just like a little death with no vision seen in between –– and each day a new reincarnation. A reason to thank the Almighty Allah. Dreams are bad for health – for my health.

I start my day very early. Forgetting unneeded memories, some people and forgiving is one of the first things that I do, that’s easy for me because I have a weak memory; thus, I take “the only advantage” off it. And I have been watching a lot of movies lately, well that’s not a news, is that bloggy? The news is, I’ve been buying them. Because, downloading movies has become like ew for me. You should know that I dislike things for no good reason and also, I like things for no good reason. Enough about me. I think I should cease writing this post now – the first post of this year. So…well, goodbye. =)
Posted in From: , , , | 7 Comments »

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.
Posted in From: , , , , | 11 Comments »

From the Hinterland of Memory

Tuesday, November 30, 2010 by B.H.

Back when I was a kid – in first grade. One fine evening, I was walking back to home in that strange infantile gait that I would prefer – with the gleaming joy hovering in my thoughts and a poem buzzing in the lips that our very nice ma’am Saffia taught that day. I would hum stuff then all the way from school to home habitually. It was a usual evening, kids were discontinuing their half-played-matches and leaving the park by our house, the Azaan-e-Maghrib was echoing all over the town, I reached home and dropped down my bag and waterbottle and handed my dad my report card, grinned widely like an almost stupid kid and stood before him with both hands in the pocket and a constant cute stare at him, a stare with some expectations, for I had a feeling of all that being a good omen. I didn’t know what it was all about; Dad the great and mom the great smiled back at me though their smiles were not like the usual ones, they were rather tensed and I could see that. They were really excited about that card like thing for some unknown reason I didn’t know back then. They were smiling and smiling one can say like “perpetually”. All at once, their smiles disappeared and my mom the great uttered something like, “uh-oh” and dad the great like, “this is not great!” And then they said 10th! Yes, I stood 10th in the very first examination of school I’d ever taken.

From that day on, I have a posture of that moment stilled back in a very special corner of my brain which I always recall when I study, for exams of course. After that very first examination, I’d always worked hard, and improved to the point that other kids’ parents would scold them and would tell them to be like me.

Yes. That boy was the same one that today, I saw in the mirror in the morning.

Except
I was a kid then.

Life was smooth then.

I was intelligent then.

I was confident then.

Blah.

Today, I recall it differently, because when I fell, Dad the great did not say “this is not great.” nor did my mom the great utter anything like, “uh-oh”. They were sad. That gesture. Period. Gesture is framed. So… blog, you know the rest of the story, right? … What? Aren’t you too smart to guess that?

I’m leaving you with this for an indefinite time period. Take care and be good to people. =) Allah Hafiz.
Posted in From: , | 8 Comments »

The lone wolf in the street

Wednesday, November 3, 2010 by B.H.


Meager life, ample emotions –– and still it’s illicit. No, you can’t be happy for so long, no, you can’t be unhappy for so long. It’s illicit to live that way, you must fluctuate! You must fall, rise, lurch, dash, fall again and so on. And something known as “self-command” is a vague perception of nothingness, at least for me. I never felt it. Is it because I never wanted to be controlled by anyone even by me?
Karma, go to the blazes for all I care! Punishment is mine.

For I’m a fainéant being hence I must procrastinate it – again. I do not know what I am thinking, I do not know why I am thinking – whatever is – that I’m thinking, I do not know what I am doing and why I am doing and on a serious note, I do not want to know. Is it wrong? Whatever I’m thinking, for I can’t express it. Is it bad? ….. Is it normal? Or just forget it because you won’t understand.

Shillyshallying it again for I’m a fainéant being. Just give me the perfect cushion to fall for, I’m going to hell anyway.

***
...
Posted in From: , , , , , , , | 4 Comments »
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)