Battles on a Chessboard

Battles on a Chessboard

Strange are the battles fought on the chessboard,

Hours pass with both the heads down,

Yet no living flesh meets the sword

Strange are the battles when no blood is poured,

And victory lies in the intelligent frown,

No castles are floored, No life is abhorred.

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Contradictions

Contradictions

I plan for the next day,

Though, on a breath, I'm living

I strive for contentment,

Though I've had more than my filling

I barge into empty doorways,

Though I'm hardly willing

I crave a new melody,

Though my heart is always singing

I grope for the cure,

Though the disease is not stinging

I search for the end,

Though I haven't seen the beginning

I long for gold beneath my feet,

But, my inner wealth, I'm spilling

I make haste to receive favours,

But, my own promise, I'm not fulfilling

I think I've gotten too far,

But, in a tight circle, I'm spinning

I shed tears when I pray,

But, my own problems, I'm knitting

I fancy myself as truthful,

But, in forgotten lies, I'm swimming

I search for the end,

But I haven't seen the beginning

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My Flight

ENGLISH AND URDU POETRY CORNER

My Flight

No ground holds my feet,

Across the endless skies, I fly

The world is a jigsaw from above,

A view that no treasure can ever buy,

No regrets burden my wings,

My dazed eyes forget to cry

Melodies of the air in my ears,

Leave all material desires dry,

The bulging clouds house kingdoms within,

Where all the secrets of Heaven lie

The fog consumes my body at first,

But soon it burns before my eye,

There are yet other places to see,

To the direction of the winds, I comply

The gardens of Eden, I stumble upon,

Wherein, the rains are not as shy,

The flowers whisper to the Sun,

Their sheer beauty, none can deny

Am I in a dream? I fall in doubt

And question the skies for a reply,

The golden snow melts my senses,

No more, I am made to pry

I feel that the sky will be my abode,

As my numbered days fly by

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Questions

ENGLISH AND URDU POETRY CORNER

Questions

How fruitful is love,

If divine it doesn't taste?

How deep is love,

If it doesn't intoxicate?

How serene is love,

If, the mind, it renders unstable?

How just is love,

If it sounds unlike the gavel?

How productive is love,

If it doesn't make one out of two?

How penetrating is love,

If, the hearts, it doesn't pass through?

How gallant is love,

If, to warriors, it doesn't give birth?

How worthy is love,

If, to life, it doesn't give its worth?

How lovely is love,

If blessings from above, it doesn't need?

What use is love,

If, to God, it doesn't lead?

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The Bomber

ENGLISH AND URDU POETRY CORNER

The Bomber

I say to myself, again

He's got something in that bag

My eyes register, with dread,

How he seems to obey a gag,

I can't figure why everyone,

Gives him the ‘harmless’ tag,

I try to make sense of it,

But everything is zigzag,

I say to myself, again

He's got something in that bag

His hard face reminds me,

Of a secluded, mysterious crag,

His determination unnerves me,

And never appears to sag,

I see him, ever clearly now,

Carrying a black flag,

And say to myself, again,

He's got something in that bag

His clothes seem to swallow him,

His body, the feet seem to drag,

Calm and serenity consume him,

As his bony fingers wag,

No one sees him press the button,

People lost in their own brag,

I say to myself, again,

He's got something in that bag

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My Story Poem

ENGLISH POETRY CORNER ENGLISH AND URDU

My Story

My story, I have told,

For what now, do I weep?

After waking at sunsets,

And crying myself to sleep,

Must I fall in again,

Add more regrets to the heap?

And climb on breaking ropes,

When I feel the memories creep?

Not floating in the sky,

Yet no ground beneath my feet,

My story, I have told,

For what now, do I weep?

After waking at sunsets,

And crying myself to sleep,

Is it another story,

That my blinded eyes seek?

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Her Name Is Bliss

English Poetry Corner 

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Her Name Is Bliss

Her name is bliss

It is her glowing feet,

That the waterfalls

Through her, I found myself,

And silenced lust’s hiss

Her name is bliss

The heavenly winds caress her cheek,

Her humble eyes, the snows resist

Clouds battle to rain over her,

Mountains betray their mist

Her name is bliss

On her occasional voice,

Quarrelers loosen

their fists

On a glimpse of her silhouette,

Labyrinths

 straighten their twists

Her name is bliss


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