Skip to main content


Remembering You

Remembering You

A ghostly flower blooming and withering,
(or blot) blinking with colors that strain to brightness,
to equal those of what were seen before;
fragments, with the music or plain utterances
attempting to be as loud (or as soft)
as what they really were...

But all in vain.

Blurred and ephemeral. Just for a haunting and fleeting...
Many times an unexpected visitor,
an intruder, inside...

What is complete and constant is that depressing spirit:

Void of form and details, yet lingering, encumbering,
dragging. Punctuated, highlighted,
by the thief that intermittently
gives, curses, and leaves

with a piece.

The Bow Never to Be Bent

The Bow Never to Be Bent 

Here on the road
Rejoiced with the dust 
color of the rays
Illuminate my cheek.
Fog of my eyes cover up
The vision, left behind soon,
Soon after the wind that 
Came with the wrath 
Which emitted from your 
Rage of the deep dark 
Abstruse chamber of
Hollow hurt.
By the way of the road we
Are marching towards nowhere
or somewhere that 
We all know nothing.
We had ducklings, had 
The little pond to have
Their bath as well 
The dew never forgot to fall 
Onto the grass to be adorned 
And to adorn them that 
Usually flew from the eyes 
to the hurt like a green butterfly.
We are jolly though we had 
boundless want ,we 
were in the destitution 
but the pacific expectation 
to get the hopes, the very
hopes of our life, the 
Life that wither away with 
The transformation of the
Blood to sweat.
We are on the road 
We had one pair of torn 
Weapon that takes 
us to nowhere.
From the most adorable 
House and from the soothing 
Site of my parents grave.
We are on the road 
That leads us to the gloom 
from the tiny spot light 
Of the livelihood.
We were on the road
For the time immemorial
With the frame of the 
reminiscence of the future.
We have passed miles.
Miles from the bedroom 
to the hell beside the 
Heaven to have nothing 
But the odor of the 
Burn of the hell.
That hell is prevalent 
in the eyes of you 
And it takes us on 
The road now and 
Then here and there
Ehsaan Amjad
He likes to write poems, short stories and novels. He has completed his LLB(hons) LLM. He started writing from his very childhood.He tries to find out the beauty and definition of happiness and grief in his every day life. He likes to share it with the souls around him.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   




Post a Comment

Popular Posts