Ghazala Lari Poems

In a world consumed by shape and form,
Beauty standards of today are being reborn.
Gone are the days of natural grace,
Now replaced by a plastic face.
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The words that lie in books, dormant and still,
Their essence concealed, purpose to fulfill,
Unread and untouched, their meanings unclear,
What good are they, if never brought near?
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Should I pen down feelings true

Venting emotions anew
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I'm but a mortal

A temporary life on earth
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When blessings start to pour

There's no room to store
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I'd rather choose to walk away

Than fall a prey to vain desires
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It's time to let go

All that obstructs
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My room is filled with memories,

There stood a lamp with yellow shades,
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In a quiet corner of the room, stood the wall clock

With a swinging pendulum, but no cuckoo to talk
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My study table, oh how it's changed

From a place of fairytales, it now ranges
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