iqra hassan Poems

I am many "me"…

Having a rummage through my soul,
My fermenting mind tracing any signs of me..
...

Everyday, I born anew,
Everyday, is a start afresh,
The older parts of ‘'myself'' are shed,
The newer ones are born in lieu,
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You say you are a writer…

You say you are a writer,
Then why don't you write about my eyes?
...

Transparent blood…

Meridian of crimsons and vermilions,
deep and warm,
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The Beholder..

Soft trodden dreams of pure silk,
Against emerald background of shiny, young eyes,
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Should I make you mine?
Or dream you o' divine?
Should I be your skin?
Closer than a kin?
...

Those hands were used to henna and bangles,
Those eyes flaunted in kohl and dreams,
Her voice echoed like wind chimes all over,
Her laughters could transform the deepest of spleen,
...

Habitat of clouds was cheeringdilly,
Rain joined in the pandemonium,
To hail the coronation of the first ray of light,
That entered the mellow heart of a young lily,
...

Clattering are the rambling thoughts,
Surging into my magnet-brain,
Which attracts even the cameoed-portraits,
That appeared and went away in a jiffy,
...

That pasturage of penury,
Where scant is the grass of life,
Inadequate for every soul to graze,
That passes by this precinct,
...