Why are you chasing the life, asif
death is the only gift from lover for you
I'm not angry with you my dear
I'm furious on the feelings tho I feel
shatered and tormented
weeping for broken dreams
To whom shall I show
the mourns of my heart
pierced to pieces
torned into several parts
Thus now the lines
are vanishing from
the palms of my hand
the fate has forgoten
the being of my very
existence
Wow, that's another way to look at life and existence.. bringing a new consideration for why i am here. Great work of art..
Bhayya! Cheer up. Life cycle brings u surely a new leaf of joy........But see the beauty of life. Tragedies bring out best poetry.......even thes days of disappointment became a boon to u........u wrote some of the best poems.........10
An elegy to existence. But you have been given the skill to write eloquent poems. This gives your life meaning and worth.10 for you. Best regards, Sandra
The unlawful exploits of merciless timeon our sensitive being well explained in the lines which i liked the most 'Thus now the lines are vanishing from the palms of my hand the fate has forgoten the being of my very existence ' thats where the game ends when fortune closes the door and destiny cares us less...and we have no where to go...no one to hold on! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! A very deep look at life...Again a good work from u Aijaz...10!
That is life..every second is a passing moment and fate naturally forgets...so why to brood...good poem
don't look at the broken dream as the end. yet it is another begining and gives you an opportunity to look forward to something else and wish more.
your ending palm image is neat for the reader. along with 'm furious on the feelings tho I feel shatered and tormented weeping for broken dreams they are really great lines that describe so many of us today with a lil twist. good job. Becca
the palm line imagery is brilliant...the game of fate is on, starting from your palms i suppose...another dark piece, Aijaz...well lighted up...10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
asif, ask not as gift for death for death is shy of you, ask not to mourn in stealth for broken dreams not true dreams are illusive my dear and life streams moves on A+++ regards anjali