Their words are jokes, their words are advice... Their words are laughter, their words are statements...
Poems forever
By Robert Frost
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
By Zahra Zafar
Why some of us, or most of us,
Become sad so young
Without any reason
Only through disposition
Like we have survived
The nine circles of hell
Crying over everything and nothing
Or maybe sadness is hereditary
Etched in the helix of our lives
Carved into fragments of genes
So we feel phantom emotions
That are not our own
Grieving for people long gone
Who lived before us, for us.
By Khadija Atif
Their words are jokes, their words are advice.
Their words are laughter, their words are
statements.
But hidden inside,
Their words are swords, their words are axes.
Their words are nails, their words are chains.
They push and pierce deeper and deeper.
Their words are blind, their words are deaf.
They cause the storms, then walk away,
While broken souls are left behind.
Their words are thoughtless, their words are
meaningless,
But the damage is done.
There is no reversal, there is no apology
To heal the wounds within.
Their words are unknown, their words are small,
Yet their words are blades.
They torture,
Bringing death to the soul,
And delight to cruelty,
Down to the very bones.
Their words are continuous,
Their words are relentless,
Their words are never-ending,
A vicious cycle beginning all over again.
By Abid Agha
The rain returned the way old feelings do-
soft at first, then all at once.
Two hearts, once lost in separate storms,
found shelter again beneath the same
pouring sky.
Raindrops stitched the silence between us,
each one a memory falling back into place.
We didn’t speak-
We didn’t need to.
Your smile shimmered in the monsoon light,
warm as the earth after its first touch of rain.
And for a moment,
we weren’t strangers healing alone-
we were the “us” we once knew,
rediscovered in the rhythm,
of a rainy evening
and memories that refused to fade.
When love feels like the first downpour
Pure, quiet, magical and unexpected.
By Muhammad Hayat
I was confused whether
To look at her or the moon.
She was as confused as I was,
Whether to speak to me
Or simply look at me.
Her smile was like the clouds,
Her face was like the sky.
I looked around her neck;
She walked away like a river.
She drifted through the roses,
Leaving the garden in ruins,
Never looking back.
By Esha Bakht
I sang a song in melodious rhyme.
I kept recalling my previous times.
I used to think of my old days,
But my memory was a bit hazy.
What fun times I had,
And that made me so glad.
But sadness hovered over me,
Because those days I cannot relive or see.
My past was long gone.
I felt so alone.
