Nosheen Irfan Poems

How old is the suffering
The wind-swept field, robbed
Of ripened grain
How long has it been?
...

When the rain has rained
Down to its last drop
But the clouds still linger
Gathering more crystals of water
...

The autumn tree...
The scaly arms and legs
With no bird housed
In its bare brittle branches
...

March sprouts seedlings
On chafed skin of my city
A breeze liberates itself
For a rendezvous
...

You and I, under vast skies
Hands held, eyes locked
Feeling the surge of waves
Beneath the cold floor
...

Tender is the night
In the silver majesty of a full moon
I wonder why the wind is quiet
When the heart needs a voice
...

Many a trampled flowers
lie
in the wilderness of man's
inhumanity
...

Odd shapes,
Resembling insomniac dreams
Floating by untiring
Over miles of uncertainty
...

Bent and broken
on love's devious trail
Scattered like autumn leaves
in the lanes of abandonment
...