Old(Walled) City Of Lahore Poem by Nosheen Irfan

Glory of distant times. Nice work.

This is a heartfelt appreciation of the old city and an equally heartfelt homage to the people who made it a great city. What do we owe the Dead? We must remember them, hold them in our memories, share that much of our life with them. Your poem cannot stop those noble old buildings from crumbling over time, but in your memory is a perfect place where their glory can survive. We can be confident that some poets not yet born will keep our lives alive in their memories.

Most of the old cities are in same dilapidated condition and builders are watching them like eagle following its prey to make Super Malls ......Materialistic approach has taken over the old morale values.....Nice thought provoking poem...Loved it. NI....10++++

Reality penned so well, I can relate to this poem to my city as well, which is called the city of pearls the beautiful rich Hyderabad. With time everything is fading...you have expressed the state of fading culture and heritage. I wish Govt take some measures to preserve it.10 plus

A lot of cities are absolutely like that.. I spent a lot of time in Kolkata, where we have plenty of Victorian-era buildings, some maybe even in the style of baroque, and I am sure some of them have a great deal of Gothic touch to it.. In Chandannagar, we have many old buildings and structures that were made before we had freedom in 1952, and became a part of India on October 2 1954 - seven years after the country was freed from the British! ! And still we hold on to the heritages, there is so much new in there but colleges are still called in their usual French names, many amongst us speak in terrible French, the folk songs of the old days are still there.. Amidst the modernisation of the 'strand', and its jetty we still have the fishermen in small boats singing songs at times.. The baazars are the best place where I always feel as if I am in an entirely different era! ! How the two cultures collide.. How amidst the hurly-burly of modernisation there still exist ruins of the past.. How amidst the usual modern citizens, the old grandparents tell anecdotes to the young ones.. How the black-and-white pictures shine, doesn't matter how faded they are... Your poem made me take a dive into the historical lane of civilisation.. We have come forward, the clock has moved on, but still the yellow, crusty pages of history, with holes made by little mites, smell like the glory days of the ages gone past... Thanks for sharing Nosheen. I enjoyed this poem very much...