Quotes about nasir, page 8
Living Trophies
On their way to school
Carrying dreams of future
In their book bags
Kids grow into old man
Their prattle
Like tiny butterflies
Continue to live.
Of dreams and their interpretations
Of brightly lit hands
And happy lines of fate
Folks seperate from us
Their memories
Continue to live.
In the eve-time loneliness
In the head-splitting deep gaze
Like withering dreams
Scenes get blurred
Glued to the path - eyes
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poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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Had Ocean Been My Confidant
Had ocean been my confidant
I'd have given it
All of my truths for safekeeping
Tales i would have written
Of seashells picking girls on beaches
Whose golden bodies were
Like isles of dreamland
But whose fates were
Like lines drawn in sand.
Had ocean been my confidant
I'd have given it
All my loneliness
I'd have walked with the wind
Clasping its finger in my fist
On distant paths
From whence no one comes back!
Had ocean been my confidant
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poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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A Faceless Portrait
Never-ending paths seemed to be ending
At yet there was no indication
Of a destination, a fruitful conclusion.
Realizing this he said
Come, Let's try to locate
Our lines of fate on the wind's palms!
And then azure waters
Frozen still from the dawn of time
Reverberated into expanding circles on the surface.
When the yellowed desert-like womb of time
Saw the birth of the sprouting
Shoots of woe
He was busy
Watching from the sea shore
Sails of boats.
The burning sand on the rims of his eyes
Had become wet.
And then it happened
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poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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A Poem About Expanding Distances
Paths are hot on my trail
And eyes...... as always they do......
Behind, far behind
Are nailed to apertures in the door.
My mom has furrows
Criss-crossed on her time-worn face
And like a dot sans word
Unaware of my own import
I am gaoled in the abdomen
Of starving books.
If one were to look
Into sisters' eyes at the moment of parting
One would know
How deserts are changed into oceans.
Do you remember
You had said at separation
When the dreams of journey
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Cross On One's Own Shoulder
We had met
On the threshold of a dream
Or in the sprawling hall
Of torturous silence
Of sleepless moments.
Only if chandeliers of memory
Are lighted
Will I ever know where!
All scenes get blurred in darkness.
Words, dots, dashes,
Only if they emerge from the underworld of meaning
Perchance, perhaps then
A forest of meaningfulness
Might grow from the desert womb
Of sterile writings.
Clouds form in azure-blue chalice of the sky.
Indeed, who should I ask about it?
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The Finale
O, Great Magician!
Show your magic, show expedition
People are waiting
Waiting in a daze
Show them voodoo, muddle in a maze
Show your wonder, show your power
Show them a flower
Turning into a pigeon
Beasts are infesting
Your sacred region
Make them stop, bring to a halt
Deep into the earth
Plates overlaped
Move them a milli, fix that fault.
O, Great Magician!
Show your magic, show expedition
People are waiting
Looking for a glance
For this is their last chance
Show them an empty paper box
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God, Make My Single Tear Flow Alongwith The Rain
God, make my words a firefly
God, make my conversation a butterfly
God, make my footsteps a path
God, make me fragrance of flowers
And blow me in the air.
God, smile like jasmine
God, make my eyes poems
God, make my poems a flock of birds
Flying to far away lands!
God, mother's tears are priceless
Preserve them in misery's locker
God, my portrait lying on the mantelpiece
Of time is dying
Decorate it in my children's hearts
God, a girl has made a place in somebody's heart
Let him too live in her heart
God, women's bodies are becoming barren
Like heaps of sand
God, let them be fertile like harvests of wheat!
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Lullaby For Lost Generations
All rivers of taste have dried up
Only sands boil in pans
Tyranny of migration has struck the towns
Birds have forsaken their nests.
Judgements descend from heavens
So it is said in books, testaments
Secrets of hearts are culpable offences
It's crime to feed at mother's breast.
''He had gone to buy a feeder
Before curfew time;
Hasn't come back.''
Kids, go to sleep
Stories, written on waters
Are narrated by winds to sails
Of sinking ships, of men in submarines
The oceans in their eyes were dry at parting
Yes, the sands of journey
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White Clouds
White clouds
Morphing wonderfully
Watch those bears
Changing into
Rows of elephants
Shaping like
A frail old man standing
Rearranging into children
Playing with balloons.
White clouds
Sway on cradle of the wind
Occasionally shrivel
With toil and sadness
At times inflate
With joy and gladness
Never forget
Heaven nor earth
They lie pendent
Between the two worlds.
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Book Mark
I remain
Where she left me
After she had finished reading.
No one leafed through the book of love
Time has coursed its way
Aeons have passed
But I remain entangled
In the inconclusive tale of love
Waiting for her to come back
And once again turn its pages
Get the story going again.
She was keen to progress in life
Desirous of
Glamour, fame, a bright career
How could she find time to read?
Accustomed to decorating shelves
With bric-a-brac and books
She knew
Nothing could be gained from old volumes
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poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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