Masroofiyat

Masroofiyat

~Jawab ke muntazir yun na raha kijiye

Ishq yahan be panah hai, aur aashiq bhi..

Na roshan kijiye ab apne dil ki dar-o-galiyon ko

Siyah-rah chalte mil jata hai chiraag-e-husn bhi..

Bewajah ki uljhanen abaadi badhati hai yahan toh

Warna sayen sayen karti hai mukhtalif si saans bhi..

Gosha nasheen si hai ab yeh masroof zindagi meri

Sunsaan hai raahen sajdon ke darmiyan kabhi kabhi..~

Tanha Sa

Tanha Sa

Apne khwaabon ka rukh kuch toh modiye,

Koi toh sira mere bhujte naseeb se jodiye..

Ki pighalti shama bhi kitni behtar hai,

Usko roshan hue chilman ki nazar muyassir hai..

Dhalta din nashtar yun chubhota hai,

Ki apne mehboob ke aagosh main jakr woh sota hai..

Par ab tadap kabeel-e- bardasht lagne lagi,

Ki inteha-e-intezaar ko bohot umar ho chali..

Fir bhi apka yun akele sona badastoor khalta hai,

Dil aaj bhi khaali bistar par bache sa machalta hai..

Main bhi wahin aap ke paas ba’araam so jata,

Koi toh kona qabr ka apne khaali rakha hota!

She Only Laughs

She Only Laughs

‘Come again’

She said it through a wincing pain

‘A few things never stay’

Words elbowed to make their way

‘And what would they be in my case’

Spitting her annoyance on his face

‘Call for your patience, it’s time now’

And she shrieks, ‘Wow’

‘Love is not being selfish’

‘And, you’re done with this dish?’

‘Life moves on, and so you should, too’

‘You found a new girl to woo?’

‘Oh, c'mon, don’t be a bitch’

‘And, what about ditch and switch?’

‘I was a fool to love you!’

‘I loved you, and still do’

‘I don’t care’

‘Cause, you fear’

‘Fear of?’

She only laughs

And His fear echoes in her last tear!

My Words Would Live

My Words Would Live

Like a day is wasted,

If not in your arms

A life never lived, if

A breath lingering to your smell

Your eyes, entrancing my sight

A touch of your gentle ways

Your voice ringing into my ears

Is stolen, snatched or taken

I'd be blind to the colors

Would never smell the tulips

Numb should be my new touch

No voice, but my name called by you

You or nothing would define my life

Till Someday,

When the pale pages of my diary

And that bronze pen in my hand

Would conjure the dead-art of

Atonement and resurrection

To let my words live, and

Breathe my forsaken heart!