Dr Shamim Ali Poems

In the land of Chitral there is Kalash,
Where the mountains rise and the rivers splash,
There lived a girl with eyes of green,
The most beautiful sight I have ever seen.
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The Month of December
In Quetta city where snow abounds,
December came with icy sounds.
A winter's chill, so sharp and clear,
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Snowflakes dance in the winter sky,
A beauty that catches the eye,
Each one unique, a work of art,
Etched in water's dreams from the heart.
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I miss the snowy night of Quetta,
When the world turned into a magical vista,
Watching from my window with delight,
As snowflakes fell from the sky all night.
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The trees are speaking in their ancient tongue,
a language older than the words we've sung
each leaf a syllable, each branch a phrase,
whispered through the long forgotten days.
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I am a bird unmoored from Quetta's trees,
Adrift on tides that breathe through memories,
Where mountain winds still whisper through the pines,
And voices of my siblings intertwine
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Close your eyes and press your palms against them,
watch the universe ignite within
a private cosmos blooming in the dark,
each burst of light a tiny, fleeting spark.
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In ancient Baghdad, by the Tigris' flow,
where minarets pierce heavens high and low,
there lived a merchant's daughter, fair as dawn,
whose beauty bloomed and withered, then was gone.
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In the name of Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful,
May peace and blessings be upon Muhammad and his family,
And upon the one who is the representative of the divine,
The son of Al-Hassan, the one who is a sign.
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Allah, the Ever-Living, the Sustainer,
Above all else, there is none greater,
Neither drowsiness nor sleep overtakes,
His power and might, no mortal can shake.
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