Could make me any summer’s story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew...
Poems forever
By William Shakespeare
"From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him.
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odour and in hue,
Could make me any summer’s story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight
Drawn after you, – you pattern of all those.
Yet seem’d it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play."
By Abid Agha
There are moments when the world
grows still,
and in that quiet pause between
heartbeats,
I feel you again-
not your presence, but the echo of it.
The memory of your hands
still felt on my palm,
light as dusk, soft as breath,
warm as a promise we never
learned to keep.
Those hands once held mine
as if they were learning my pulse by heart,
as if every line, every curve,
was a story only you were meant to read.
Now, when loneliness sits beside me,
I lift my palm to the fading light,
and I swear I can feel
your touch in the space where the
air trembles-
your warmth carried on the
flash of a moment
that refuses to fade.
And maybe love is nothing more
than this quiet ache that returns at dusk,
a gentle reminder that some hands
leave a mark deeper than time-
hands that no longer hold mine,
yet never truly let go.
By Tooba Samad
I have always said
I like being alone.
That silence is peaceful
and space feels like freedom.
No one stealing my clothes,
No one teasing me at random hours,
No unnecessary fights,
No noise in my room.
Sometimes I even smile and say
maybe I am lucky.
Lucky to have my own cupboard,
my own secrets,
my own untouched world.
And I almost believe it.
But then I see sisters together,
laughing over nothing,
hugging without reason,
fighting loudly
and forgiving even louder.
They share clothes,
share secrets,
share a language
only they understand.
And something inside me
turns quiet.
It feels like a missing piece
in a puzzle that looks complete.
I tell myself it is nothing.
Not jealousy.
Not sadness.
Just a strange, unnamed feeling
that visits me
when I see two sisters
walking side by side.
Maybe I was never in love
with being alone.
Maybe I just learned
how to live without something
I have always wanted.
A sister.
By Zahra Zafar
Now I think of you and all of your life
Wasted, pandering to the ego of a manchild.
He walked on the water you were drowning in
Cruel is the man of many insecurities,
how astonishing!
Narcissistic, gas lighter who can never do wrong
A man with a God complex, who thinks he hold the world on his palm.
You apologized; at his whims, you bowed
Always filled his cup till it overflowed.
Emotional torture, cold shoulder, silent treatment
Bruised integrity, stripped humanity, cursed ailment.
Hoped for the sunrise until it was too late
You left everything behind, a hapless fate.
