Thursday, November 22, 2018

the quest

Will I cry when I see
that you are no more?

Will the feeling of loss
will leave me 
numb and speechless?

will my throat be full?

I feel that 
It will be an unbearable loss to me,
and it will surmount 
all the feelings of 
peace and tranquility
that is now here with me,
when you are around.

It will be so painful 
so much so that 
I can not write it down 
here without burning my finger 
in the fire of my fears.

Can we really imagine 
the pain which is yet to come?

The pain 
when is being seen 
on screen 
in a play or an act
is so real 
that it melts 
something within.

The actor keeps it with him
never shares and
what it does to him
is never known to the outside world.

The feeling of association 
and empathy
are the greatest gifts 
that the mankind has,
but seldom 
they appeal in the same proportion 
as the hate and jealousy.

Man, the animal 
is not so human, as the wise man,

he/she is 
perturbed
petrified,
anxious 
and ever in search of 
things which he does not know
and will never know.

And on top of all
He/she has the imagination
to see the future and 
bring it in his/her today.

Am I Doing the same?
Will I get the answers?

Or will the quest as usual 
will remain for forever and ever !

Tuesday, March 20, 2018

The migrants

A poet died today,

He was from the same city
to which I belong.

He created his place
in this new world.

Loved by all.
Remembered by few.
He was a migrant to this city
just like me and many others.

The migrants never really forget
their homeland.

They live,
in their homeland
and the new land where they work,
simultaneously.

The migrants
they miss their languages.
the languages less spoken
but sweeter than the one they use at work.

Is it just nostalgia?

Maybe the birthplace
has something to do with our psyche.

The lullabies which were sung
to us when we were kids,
gets entrenched in us.

We leave places, cities and towns.
but they never leave us.

They remain in our sub-conscious
hidden from everyone.

and they
come back smiling when we write.

~ by Md. Shahid Kamal Ansari 

oxymoron

Sense is captive,
Non sense is on centre stage.
Reality is on back burner,
And symbols are sitting on hot seat.
Reason is laughing,
Logic has failed,
Substance is fighting for its existence,
Persistence is perspiring,
Hard work is getting hard,
Resistance has softened.
Disaster is waiting on the gate,
Idiots are holding garlands.
Soon, God will be beaten.
Preacher is the new God.
He reads scriptures like a song,
He sings it like a lullaby and makes
People captive.
Power is helpless,
Happiness is unhappy,
Life is rusty,
Every crow is thirsty.
Blood is boiling,
Milk is not.
People drink blood,
Throw milk on stones,
Milk is not milky,
Stars are milky.
People are moron,
Life is an oxymoron.