OF RASHID(a ghazal for your birthday)

We rise to the ether, for the I Ching of Rashid

Star-soaked words from the mouth of Rashid

Turbulent current, “As above, so below”

We sail on the broken wing of Rashid

Will your book be penned in complete absentia?

Dear friends, what news do you bring of Rashid?

Terrestrial bard, an unknowing Prince

Because only Ghalib is King of Rashid

Word-seeker pierces your heart with arrow

As my muse informs me, to sing of Rashid

-Poetsings Muse

January 14, 2014

Time Cancels All

Dear,

 

Take it as a FAILED attempt to express my attachment

Frustration and misery of being a man.

To write what should not be written

To complete what was not incomplete.

 

You will meet many men in your life-

Some of the men will just cross your path

Being smart you will know.

Some of the men will say they have lost their heart

Being beautiful you will understand.

And also the men you fall in love with

Being human you will suffer.

 

I wish I could have seen myself through your eyes

To had a glimpse of truth and not be deceived by lies.

I am confused, if I was a failed lover, or the poor one?

 

Your actions filled me with jealousy

Other man saw in you what I could not see?

Your sad eyes- to me they were never belong-

Cruel fate never gave me chance to dive into them for long.

I never explored your wonderful body

Never smelt your hair.

But If I become religious for a moment

You will be an answer to all my prayer.

 

I will never forget, our walk together and our philosophical talk-

The new perspectives about life in me you have sparked.

 

I wish another one you have found loves you equally madly

And you have accepted that madness very gladly.

 

I’m afraid, when somebody will speak out your name,

My soul will rediscover its lost oppressive pain.

 

Time will kill our memories

Time will heal our pain

Time will turn our heart into stone

And prepare us to fall in love again.

 

With some injuries

And a sense of loss

This is not the sad end

But a strength provided-

A freshness given-

To the mysterious voyage called life.

March 11, 2014

There is no death

This is not the end but

another beginning.

He has gone back to the place

from where he came.

He found himself out of this world,

more close to

the darkness and the empty sky

then to the people.

A failed lover-

who loved people-

Always prefered roses over yellow, white flowers.

A failed writer-

Who loved poems-

Always prefered poems by others than by himself.

A failed human-

Who loved human beings-

Always prefered grief of other than of himself.

Too much self-appreciation-

Is this another effort of throwing himself high?

Every stone thrown above-

Must fall-

And life is a perpetual falling.

Nobody remembers him

except few grief-stricken.

Not a memory?

But he is liberated

and at much awaited place of his life.

February 23, 2014