Author Archives: Shehryar Khawar

To Him who Cared to Give a Fuck

Posted in Poetry English by
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This is what happens when kindness is wasted, loyalty is ignored, and patience snaps.

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To you, my friend, who cared to give a fuck,

to you, my friend, who chose to care for all

None of your fucks ever mattered,

none of them were counted at all

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For God’s sake, don’t be so fucking sad,

you just gave a fuck and not your whole life

For Heaven’s sake, your fuck wasn’t even that good,

it was a dull blade at the most, not even a sharp knife

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You think you just gave a fuck or two,

and they were all that were ever needed?

You believe even if you gave countless fucks,

were they all the shit that you ever ceded?

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You and your countless stupid fucks,

both be damned to the red hell and back

All the damn fucks you ever cared to give,

and the fucks you didn’t ever try to crack

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Keep your fuck and keep it hidden and safe,

it is not needed at all, in fact, it never was

Keep your fucking love and keep it with you,

it is not valued at all; in fact, it never was

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To all your fucks, only a ‘fuck you’ is granted,

and that too is a generosity beyond words

You deserved less, and you got far, far more,

only cause you ain’t complete but in sherds

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To you, my friend, who cared to give a fuck,

to you, my friend, who chose to care for all

None of your fucks ever mattered,

none of them were counted at all

The Comfort in Saying ‘Mine!’

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This October evening…..

this lovely October evening,

with all her whispering shadows

and the red-golden meadows,

is mine

She is mine to behold

and mine to perceive

and mine to mould

And in calling her ‘Mine!’,

there is a strange comfort,

which cannot be sought

in either music or wine

The Autumn Moon

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I feel as if I am a Sylph, a poetic fantasy

the autumn moon, simple and pure ecstasy

I roam the night air and float

so very near, yet remote

I watch all and feel all;

feelings – either big or small

I watch all and feel all;

but I am not a part of this at all

The Custodian of Unfulfilled Dreams

Posted in Poetry English by
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A kingdom where broken dreams go to die—and a king who refuses to abandon them.

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Far away from all this filth and all this stinking mold,

there is a secret and silent realm of unfulfilled dreams

The realm is colorless, neither silver nor purple nor gold,

no laughter or singing, just a chaos of cries and screams

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Each dream, once it’s shattered, and in pain it cries,

it enters the realm, hearing some command unspoken

The horn of time does not blow; it is silent and so wise,

as the dreams lay trampled, crying and utterly broken

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There he sits at the gate, the old and tattered King,

the sad custodian of dreams, he protects and lovingly guards

He has neither a throne, nor a seal, nor a royal ring,

he wears only a crown of thorns and sharp glass shards

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The dreams are his children, a few are even his very own,

he cradles their delicate heads and lovingly treats their sores

Some dreams have broken wings, and some have never flown,

yet he loves them all, whether they are his own, mine, or yours

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The King has tears in his eyes; he cries over the wounded dreams,

he knows they are going to finally die, his efforts are all in vain

The dreams whimper as life bleeds out, in rivulets and in streams,

the King knows they are the last drops of a rare desert rain

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Each dream, when it breathes its very last and silently dies,

he gently kisses its dead eyes, singing the last lullaby

The King is sad, oh, he is so very sad, but still he desperately tries,

caring for dreams, without asking ‘to what end’ or even a ‘why’