In The Paws Of Fear Poem by Tahir Ibn Manzoor

Shivering with cold, I'm hearing the strange voices,


Down the stairs I went, I felt like I'm meeting a ghost.



Those haunting memories are still disturbing me,


Going through the slum lanes I found a pearl.



Talking to the people there, was the process throughout the fear,


The camera was my only comrade, and the cell phone battery was already drained.



Meeting the elderly people was in my fate, the trees of chinar were representing the land of saints,


The place was a very holy, for the residents, painted in yellow.



Some nincompoops has created a fuss around,


The things which they couldn't settle in a proper way down.



A stranger came and asked my name,


There was no one whom I could blame.



A chimney of a brick kiln was like a gun muzzle pointed at me,


Breaking down the dawn and dusk by throwing out its smoke through nozzle of the stack was not free.



Down the road I met few sullen people,


They spit out that; it‘s a terror for us.


In a brickyard, the boys were holding a wooden bat,


Somewhere in the mind I felt it was time for that.



The banners were lamenting, and the wounds were fresh,


The fall has joined mourners who were suffering from the fear as a tress.


A camera was unable to capture the landscape shot,


A lens-man was not near the object which was clear pot.


[The author is a student of Convergent Journalism at Central University of Kashmir. He tweets at @TahirIbnManzoor, and blogs at http: //www.TahirIbnManzoor.Wordpress.Com]