9 Oct 2016

The Wall

Posted by Oblivion in Poetry | 5:54pm

and then it begins to crumble

the wall that you had built
giving it your years of tireless labour
dreaming of it by night
laying brick by brick, by day

and when the wall was complete
you sat there crying
running your numb fingers along its finish
for, it was your dying hour

home became a mere metaphor
when the boys grew up into adults
and the wall aged
soaked in rain, it gathered moss

they will never know 
how glad you will in your grave be
if they fain touch the wall
such is the life after death

but now, the wall is crumbling
because someone somewhere
pulled a brick and crushed it into sand
such is the tale of neglect

should the wall be put up again?
but what crumbles once crumbles again
and again. and again.
and again. and again.

till you forget how many again times
it has crumbled;
till it gets tired of crumbling
or dies. again.

5 Oct 2016

War-end Piece

Posted by Oblivion in Poetry | 3:45pm

two cups of hot tea
lay on the table
as if they whispered to each other
they issued faint smoke

she picked up his
and walked to the window
that looked into a pond

through the still, cold water
moved like a knife, hamid's naked frame
bearing the traces of love
that her nails had made

she held the cup between her palms
as she would, his face
and brought it to her smiling lips

fate cannot be always kind, though
the looking-glass will break
and its racuous laughter
will cut your reflection into pieces
so there in front of her, hamid, her life
and in stealthy silence
barely fifty feet behind, her death

"there's no place safe
when men cry for war", smirked the captain
looking out from the war tank
and nodded, "do it!"
"but she is harmless", said the junior
"blow her up!" - the captain


"noor!" hamid cried
but the house
that stood on the edge of the cliff
was razed
embers of the rubble hurt his feet
"noor!" he cried
but neither blood nor bone could he find

burdened with ash
he ran into the forest
to search for her footprints
and all the trinkets
that adorned her body once
and fell into the secret corners
when their fingers played
the games of love

but the snow pulled a blanket
on the leaves, fallen and green
on the barks
weary and tendermost alike
on the smallest detail of the roads
he was the only spot
which moved in that frozen landscape

every tree looked same
sullen, hiding in the drape of white
afar, the horizon dissolved
spreading the pall of gloom
he ran like a lunatic
caught in an absurd maze
only to find nothing

fine as a razor's edge
grief cut him in two
nothing was naked anymore
in that forest
save his anguish