POETS’ CORNER

Poems forever

A Broken Appointment

By Thomas Hardy

You did not come,

And marching Time drew on, and wore me numb.

Yet less for loss of your dear presence there

Than that I thus found lacking in your make

That high compassion which can overbear

Reluctance for pure loving kindness' sake

Grieved I, when, as the hope-hour stroked its sum,

You did not come.

You love me not,

And love alone can lend you loyalty;

I know and knew it. But, unto the store

Of human deeds divine in all but name,

Was it not worth a little hour or more

To add yet this: Once you, a woman, came

To soothe a time-torn man; even though it be

You love me not.

Cease fire

By Khadija Fahad

Blood, bodies, bombs everywhere,

peace, unity, rights nowhere to be seen.

People are dying, children crying—

they shout for help, they cry for help.

It feels as if reason has fled,

Martyring thousands of people,

While hanging posters high that plead:

“Cease fire! Cease fire!”

We protest, we rally here and there,

But the results aren’t seen anywhere.

But wait! Not all is for naught:

Our God will help us; that is our gain.

Our prayers are our sword, our duas our shield,

Stronger than your weapons, Israel;

We will use these weapons to prevail.

Who, then, is innocent, and who the genocidal terrorist here?

Life’s thief: attachment

By Mirub Rehman

Attachment wears the crown of theft

All those peaceful moments stolen

Dragging itself along regardless of the heft

Vanishing my conception; that too, now molten

Attachment once again prevails as a thief

Although this time it steals my own ethical dignity

Dignity that crumbles; dignity that I now grieve

Slithering away; leaving one thing – my insanity

I don’t know why I was sad, but I felt sad

By Muhammad Hamza Khan

There I was,

Lying in my bed,

Thinking,

If only

somebody messaged me,

If only

My phone rang one more time,

If only

Somebody knocked on my door.

I wouldn’t care who it was;

I’d just look them in the eye

And tell them everything.

Tell them,

For instance,

My life feels stuck in a Sisyphean loop:

I go to sleep every night

Knowing exactly what I’m going to do tomorrow,

And the things that once excited me

Have now lost their edge.

Maybe

I have lost my edge,

I’d say to them,

Not knowing if I’m being too harsh on myself

Or finally being honest.

But

Nobody

Sent a message,

Nobody

Called,

Nobody

Knocked on my door. 

Sunflower petals that remember your touch

By Abid Agha

A soft, tender touch –

the way you cupped the sunflower’s petals,

as though guarding secrets of the earth.

Blossoming fully in late spring,

a mesmerizing spill of mahogany and gold,

unfolding slowly beneath the first light.

Stories hidden in their veins grew bright,

soft as golden silk, soothing to the sight,

drinking in the warmth of your hand.

And even after they fell,

they curled like whispers in the air,

bending back toward the memory

of your touch.