Tag Archives: poem

I am Evil, I Admit (Previously, Beliefs and Perceptions)

Posted in Poetry English by
d2f0pf6-2e902122-a8b0-4103-83f2-08c13329ac70

A confession wrapped in irony — when being called ‘evil’ hurts less than being called unloving.

_______________________________

Your belief in me being utterly bad,

your perception of me as evil is so sad

It is stronger than your belief in God,

but you love it, though it may be flawed

I don’t mind it, and I don’t mind it at all;

I am now falling, and I may fall

_______________________________

Your belief in me being so lowly,

to you is holier than the most holy

Seeing me as the devil’s spawn,

your words in stone, etched and drawn

I don’t mind it, and I don’t mind it at all;

I am now falling, and I may fall

_______________________________

Your belief in me being so depraved,

your faith in morals, preserved and craved

Seeing me as the fodder of red hell,

your prophecy is true, let us all yell

I don’t mind it, and I don’t mind it at all;

I am now falling, and I may fall

_______________________________

Your belief in me being so devious,

is your allegation, the most serious

Seeing me as sneaky and scheming,

you are alarmed, heralds are screaming

I don’t mind it, and I don’t mind it at all;

I am now falling, and I may fall

_______________________________

But your belief in me being unloving,

is your most hurtful and deeply cutting

Perceiving me as a liar and exploiter,

no reason, no logic, I am just a manipulator?

I do mind it a bit, and I do mind it a lot;

I will but, fall, you have hit a soft spot

Questions that I often Ask Myself

Posted in Poetry English by
puzzle_by_shadowtuga_d2wcvhe-fullview

Who am I? What am I? What is my existence? Where am I heading? What will become of me?—Five questions, no answers, only increasingly dark possibilities.

___________________

Who am I,

when I laugh so loud, and also when I cry?

Am I a terrible figment of God’s imagination,

or perhaps, as I often tell myself, a mirthful lie?

Perhaps, I am what was meant to be discarded,

or maybe, to be ignored carelessly, or meant to die

___________________

What am I,

when I beg and beseech, looking up to the sky?

Am I a chaotic and messy pile of junk and trash,

or perhaps a weird collection of impossible thoughts?

Perhaps, I am a useless and wasteful hand of tarot,

a card with no picture or symbol, only stains and dots

___________________

What is my existence,

when I examine my state from some distance?

Is this just a never-ending nightmare, 

or perhaps just sand slipping through my grasp?

Perhaps, there is really nothing that I truly have,

and maybe the rope of hope is just a venomous asp

___________________

Where am I heading,

with a resolve all strong, and my wings all spreading?

Am I diving headfirst into an unfathomable abyss,

or perhaps heading towards doom, with a loud roar?

Perhaps, I am driving down the road to hell,

while the shadow of doubt grows even more

___________________

What will become of me,

will I ever know for sure, and will I ever see?

Will I always be searching for what I dream of,

or is the door just locked forever, and there is no key?

Perhaps, what I touch, will one day become gold,

but by then, all the light will be lost to the dark sea

When Love is the Last Illusion (Previously, the White Dove of Hope)

Posted in Poetry English by

Condemned by fate, and mocked by hope, until one dangerous word appears – love.

_________________________

Oh, you sad children of a time so evil and dark,

you are all the product of undesirable circumstances.

Your love always went stale before it could spark,

though you availed all the emerging chances

_________________________

You were the anomaly in the grand scheme;

you should have been smothered when born

Sadly, the plan remained only a dream;

though conceived by the Devil with open scorn

_________________________

You knew while you grew, you had no roots;

you were the useless moss clinging to a boulder

You had no character, no faith, and no attributes,

yet the burdens of life, you carried on your shoulder

_________________________

But you all survived, and yet you go on living;

for what purpose, may I ask in all sincerity

When both fate and life are so unforgiving,

your sustained survival becomes a vulgarity

_________________________

Desist! I suggest, or surrender, I would advise;

nothing will help you persist or even grow

Throw the cards down; please be a little wise,

just cease all efforts and go with the flow

_________________________

What did you just say? Do I hear the word ‘love’?

Yes, perhaps, love is the only solace you may ever find

It is your golden butterfly, a beautiful white dove,

in a world filled with hatred, this word sounds so kind

_________________________

Go on then, caress its warmth while you can,

till the white dove forsakes and abandons you

You will be all done with life; there is no other plan,

nothing else over the horizon for you to view

Loss and Wisdom

Posted in Poetry English by
d1i82pl-5226ca42-cecb-4d01-bf53-fbb6b125ff90

Loss isn’t tragedy—it’s the key, the doorway, the only path to wisdom; those who embrace it understand love, desire, God’s loneliness, and life itself.

_________________________________________________________

Loss is the key and loss is the doorway,

the doorway beyond which wisdom lies

Loss is the one path and loss is the only way,

the darkness beyond which light cries

_________________________________________________________

Loss is the memory of a terrible past,

broken pieces of the mirror called self

Pick up all the pieces, the first and the last,

Fingers will be cut, blood will ooze out itself

_________________________________________________________

Taste each drop of the oozing blood,

the taste will remind you of her mouth

The body and the secretly hidden bud,

her warmth, her freshness, and her couth

_________________________________________________________

Loss is how you understand love and desire,

the essence of lust and the furiously raging fire

Loss is how you see the world as a quagmire,

all the selfishness, being played on the lyre

_________________________________________________________

Loss is how you perceive the loneliness of God,

it is the only true legacy of the wise

Loss is understanding life and feeling all awed,

seek it, embrace it, until the day you rise

وعدہ

Posted in Poetry Urdu by

 

میں اب بھی تمھارے ساتھ ہی ہوں

میں تب بھی تمھارے ساتھ ہوں گا

Read more: وعدہ

جب خوشیاں ہر سو مہکیں گی

اور روشن سارے پل ہوں گے

یا ہر تمنا پا کر تم

کھلکھلاتے ہنس دو گے

جب امید افق پر چمکے گی

اور کوئی اپنا بھی پاس ہو گا

یا تم قسمت کے دامن سے

خوشیاں ساری چن لو گے

میں اب بھی تمھارے ساتھ ہی ہوں

میں تب بھی تمھارے ساتھ ہوں گا

جب دھوپ میں تیزی خوب ہو گی

اور سایہ پاس نا پھٹکے گا

یا بارش چھم چھم خوب ہو گی

اور پانی لہریں مارے گا

جب بادل کڑ کڑ گرجیں گے

اور دل سینے میں دھڑکے گا

یا برف سی سردی خوب ہوگی

اور آگ کی گرمی دور ہوگی

میں اب بھی تمھارے ساتھ ہی ہوں

میں تب بھی تمھارے ساتھ ہوں گا

جب خوشیاں سرپٹ بھاگیں گی

اور آنکھ میں آنسو چمکے گا

یا تپتے سورج کے ہاتھوں میں

جبر کی ریکھا سلگے گی

جب سانسیں بکھری جایئں گی

اور روح کے دھاگے الجھیں گے

یا نیلے فلک کی چھت نیچے

کوئی پناہ امان نا پاؤ گے

میں اب بھی تمھارے ساتھ ہی ہوں

میں تب بھی تمھارے ساتھ ہوں گا

جب خلق خدا کے پہلو میں

سب دل پتھر کے دھڑکیں گے

یا رشتے سارے آنگن میں

آنکھ مچولی کھیلیں گے

جب ذات کا درد سب خلیوں میں

تڑپ تڑپ کر مچلے گا

یا جن پر بھروسہ کرتے ہو

وہ سب بھروسہ توڑیں گے

میں اب بھی تمھارے ساتھ ہی ہوں

میں تب بھی تمھارے ساتھ ہوں گا

جب سب سازوں کے تاروں پر

کوئی نغمہ دکھ کا گونجے گا

یا خوشی کے سارے روشن گیت

گہرے بادل میں گم ہوں گے

جب سانس تمھارے دھیمے سے

کچھ کہنے کو ترسیں گے

یا ہاتھ اٹھیں گے مانگن کو

پر اس کا دل نا پگھلے گا

میں اب بھی تمھارے ساتھ ہی ہوں

میں تب بھی تمھارے ساتھ ہوں گا

#Urdu #poetry #poem #promise #time #love #companionship #company #togetherness #safety #security