Reminiscences

Don’t you remember the day

My love!

When death

Rained

Like Manna Salwa

Don’t you remember

When you tasted

A petal

Of the Red Rose

On your naked tongue

Smiled

And said

“It’s Oˉ”

Don’t you even remember

That old starry night

When you looked at me

With unforeseen suspicion

And said,

“God is spying on us”

If you don’t remember any of this

Any of this…

Then

My love

What made you say,

“We should start our love afresh”

Recipe for Grief

 Ingredients

Ripe Memories

Chopped Promises

Salty Tears

Profound Expectations

Fiery Nostalgia

Method

Soak one gram of ripe memories

In two cups of salty tears.

After some time

Put it in the frying pan of your feelings.

Add a half kilogram of expectations (crush them fully)

Now add some chopped promises

Make a thick paste out of it.

Sprinkle some nostalgia over it.

Hea(r)t it a bit.

For sometime 

Put it

In your cold mind.

Congratulations!!!

Grief is ready.

To make the most out of it

Enjoy it alone

In the corner of your body.

PS: Grief is a perfect healthy food for those suffering from love.*

*Conditions apply

Geography of Heart

Surrounded

by mountainous memories

Through which runs

A river of Hope.

Heart,

my love,

is a Valley.

Imperial Love

Of a nature foreign

Your Love was.

Your route

My Sea of tears.

The Moon of your splendour

Never set upon me.

With religious rumours

You established yourself

In me.

Your imperial eyes:

My heart - a Colony.

It distorted everything

 I possessed

Steadily.

My Indigenous Memory.

My Empire of Thoughts.

My History of Desires.

My Culture of Silence.

My Language of Love.

Now,

After years of oblivion

My Language writes back

To Your Imperial Love

With an urgent zeal

“Come back

And

distort me all over again”

Maulana Jami's Naat in my Voice

To Listen to the Naat Click on the Link below: 
https://app.box.com/s/koomh4hsxgsih9lpix3l

Originally Sung by Masood Abbasi

Barren Words

The Memory of my Sky

Is occupied

By the Grief of Clouds.

See!!!

My Love

How your Idea

Dances barefoot

Out there.

Even the Sufi whirls envy you.

Meanwhile,

I poor poet

pour Ink

over the dry lips

of my Barren Words.

This Poem Shoem

My Beloved,

This Love Shuv

This Absence Vebsence

This Mood Vood

This Life Vife

This Tragedy Vagedy

These Emotions Vemotions

This Happiness Vappiness

This Death Weath

This Friendship Vriendship

This Passion Vassion

These Feelings Veelings

This Paradise Varadise

This Philosophy Vilosophy

This Hell Vell

This Existence Vexistence

This Thinking Vinking

This Idea Videa

Etcetra Vetcetra

Are Nothing Vothing

All but the Aftermaths Vaftermaths

Of your Presence Vresence.