Tag Archives: desperation

درد کا آخری شہر

Posted in Poetry Urdu by

d1xre41-5d4d0d76-7227-4c76-bad1-bc1116b7a7c2

 

 

درد کا آخری شہر

ہر امید، ہر خوشی سے

لاتعلق اور بےخبر

آس کی فضاء میں

لامکاں اور بےخطر

ساکت اور معلق ہے

Read more: درد کا آخری شہر

درد کا آخری شہر

زندگی کے امتحان

آزمائشوں کے درمیان

پچھتاووں تلے دبے

خواہشوں کے گورستان

تڑپتا اور سسکتا

کراہتا کھنڈر ہوتا

لا حاصل تمنا اور 

ناممکن تعبیر کے درمیان

درد کا آخری شہر

اک دور اندھیری وادی میں

ساکت اور معلق ہے

درد کا آخری شہر

جانے انجانے میں

بہت سوں کی پہچان ہے

کچھ درد کے محبوب ہیں

کچھ درد سے انجان ہیں

کچھ آگہی کے آگے

مجبور اور بےکس

کچھ مایوس اور نادان ہیں

کچھ قسمت کے ہاتھوں

لاچار اور بےبس

کچھ ڈرتے اور پریشان ہیں

کچھ کی درد ہی پہچان ہے

درد کا آخری شہر

اس کے سب دروازوں کے

سب کیواڑ مقفل ہیں

اس کے سب مکانوں کے

سب مکین مردہ ہیں

زندہ ہیں، سانس لیتے ہیں

لیکن مردہ ہیں

حسرتوں کے جنازے

قطار اندر قطار

تکمیل کے کندھوں کے

بے سود انتظار میں

پڑے سڑتے ہیں

درد کا آخری شہر

بس خاموش رہتا ہے

اس کے ہر مکین کی

تڑختی شریانوں کے

لامحدود جالوں میں

کرب کا دریا بہتا ہے

سیاہ گاڑھا خون

کالے پارے کی مانند

رینگتا اور الجھتا ہے

تاریک کناروں کے

سرد پتھروں پر سرسراتا ہے

لیکن خاموش رہتا ہے

درد کا آخری شہر

بہت دور صحیح لیکن

مل جاتا ہے

کوئی اونچی فصیل نہیں

کوئی واضح حد بھی نہیں

مگر پھر بھی

جب ڈھونڈا جائے

مل جاتا ہے

نظروں سے اوجھل ہے

لیکن دلوں کو مل جاتا ہے

ہر کارواں کو، ہر مسافر کو

مل جاتا ہے

درد کا آخری شہر

اس کی مہیب تاریکی میں

اک اکیلی روشنی

ٹمٹماتی ہے

جگمگاتی ہے، مسکراتی ہے

ہمدردی کا دیا جلتا ہے

غم گساری کی لو بھڑکتی ہے

ہر مکین کا دل ہے

دوجے کیلئے دھڑکتا ہے

درد کا آخری شہر اور

اس شہر کے سب باسیوں میں

درد مشترک ہے

#Urdu #poetry #poem #life #desires #regret #pain #frustration #darkness #death #disappointment #desperation #hope #empathy #sensitivity #sharing

Hope in Your Darkest Hour

Posted in Poetry English by

Loss comes in many forms: a son in the ground, a toy in pieces, a life nearly spent - but hope whispers the same message to each broken heart.

A tender, empathetic poem that addresses three figures experiencing profound sorrow: an elderly mother grieving her son, a young boy mourning a broken toy, and an old man facing mortality. Through a recurring refrain that acknowledges “your darkest hour,” this consoling verse offers a gentle perspective on different scales of loss - from childhood disappointments to the finality of death.

___________________________________________

It is your time, my friend, it is your darkest hour,

it is seemingly the end, joys and sorrows at par

All seems lost, and all seems dour,

all appears grey, and smiles are all sour

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You sitting by that grave, yes, you, the old hag,

appearing to be brave, holding onto your old bag

Why do you sob and why do you weep?

Was it your son, whom you loved so deep?

Please, do not cry, wipe off all these tears,

he is not gone, pray hush all your fears

Look into your heart, you will find him there,

he is but a memory away, with a face so fair

___________________________________________

It is your time, my friend, it is your darkest hour,

it is seemingly the end, joys and sorrows at par

All seems lost, and all seems dour;

all appears grey, and smiles are all sour

___________________________________________

You holding a broken toy, yes, you, the poor boy,

crying your heart out, you have lost all joy

Why do you sob and why do you weep?

Was it your treasure, you intended to keep?

Please, do not cry, do not be cross,

it is, but the first step on the stairway to loss

More toys will come, each precious and dear,

more toys will come with each new year

___________________________________________

It is your time, my friend, it is your darkest hour,

it is seemingly the end, joys and sorrows at par

All seems lost, and all seems dour,

all appears grey, and smiles are all sour

___________________________________________

You, lost in your reverie, yes, you, the old man,

all sick and tired, separated from your clan

Why are you sad, and why are you so glum?

Do you feel bad about what you have become?

Please, do not be sad, do not detest yourself,

it is, but our destiny, life always solves itself

Your days were a chapter in the grand book of life,

your soul was a traveler on the path to the afterlife

___________________________________________

It is your time, my friend, it is your darkest hour,

it is seemingly the end, joys and sorrows at par

All seems lost, and all seems dour;

all appears grey, and smiles are all sour

Where is that Sweet, Sad Place where Elephants go to Die?

Posted in Poetry English by
elephant-kenya-340364

A journey into the mythic graveyard of memories, guilt, and dreams that refuse to die.

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Where is that sweet and sad place,

perhaps lost forever in both time and space,

upon the brazen earth and under the grey sky,

where elephants go to die?

Strength and might sometimes fail,

in the face of raging fire, rain and hail

Failure exhausts the strongest of souls,

when we repeatedly fail to achieve our goals

________________________________________

Where is that dark and cold womb,

devoid of all life, it’s really a tomb,

when one fails each challenge and test,

where worries finally come to rest?

Worries, which were once peacefully silent,

but now extending their tentacles, cruel and violent

My worries are not making a submissive bow,

my worries are kicking and screaming now

________________________________________

Where is that vast desolation of heart,

where the sun never shines as the clouds do not part,

where all of us are destined to be, the fools and the clever, 

where dead love breathes its last and rests forever?

Memories, which were once pretty and colourful,

but now have haunting eyes, dull and dreadful

Memories are not compelling me to make a new vow,

my memories, are dead and only skeletons now

________________________________________

Where is that unfathomably deep, black hole,

which silences all greed, and the dreams it once stole,

where regrets crawl and plead infernally,  

where guilt is finally dead and is buried eternally?

Guilt, once a rare acquaintance and even a stranger,

it was a horse called Diablo, without a ranger

My guilt is watching me with a frowned brow,

my guilt is a monster, a menacing presence now

________________________________________

I fear their accusations, their dead, hollow stare,

the evil was afar, yet somewhere close here

I loathe their presence and hold onto my spear,

the damnation was afar, yet somewhere so near

My anguish and my fear, I scream and I mumble,

my agony and my dread, I run and I stumble

I scream and I run, I make a final try,

to reach that place where elephants go to die