I Am A Poet. - Poem by Aftab Alam
Up there on that hill
There’s a thatched house with eves
I know; there he lives.
Near the door there is a sill,
Sat whole night talking with stars,
Nay; sorry, hope with heaven
Without any break, full seven
Pigeons sleep fearlessly,
Room inside remained dark,
Outside a burning boom,
Viewers say he lies over the house.
I have seen his unmoved eyes
Over the skies!
During the day
Pigeons with gay
Dance and sing round the sill
Thousands of pigeon on that hill
Live in that house
No rain rained ever upon him
Water in the pitcher always up to brim
A miracle of miasma
Blurs eyes, a charisma
What you see that may be a maze
Unseen is seen through the haze
Pangs of lost vision we face
Blindness can’t lose the vision
Vision is lost humanity dies
What is the use of the eyes?
If it can’t perceive, can’t realize///
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