Biography of Sibghatullah Khan
I live in Islamabad, Pakistan. I did my MA in English Literature from University of the Punjab, Lahore in 1994, and PhD in 2013 from NUML, Islamabad. I started dabbling in poetry when I was an undergrad student in 1983-84. I am an Associate Professor of English in Islamabad.
Sibghatullah Khan Poems
The First Spring Rain
As I sit reading in my room, I hear the first Spring rain thumping the Earth. Since I cannot concentrate, I rush out on my roofed terrace and see
On Signing Up For A Phd
If I make it, I'll lose my innocence, and for my blessed life embrace that haughty, enlightened ignorance.
I Am The Old Man
With three scores and ten to my name, and that I can remember a lot, I am the Old Man. I eat less besides, And sleep the first quarter of every single night.
They had sweated to excel, and work their way uphill; some had finally made it and whatever they had to, paid it.
Time And Life
If seven o'clock is present, twelve is future; both run into the sunset to make it past.
Just A Sunrise And Those Birds Flying
What can I say, dear friend? You frustrate me so much each time when you hold out a promise crying. You talk of Sisyphus
Death sounds like silence, like the falling of Autumn leaves, a sad, broken heart when it heaves, like someone walking in a deserted street,
Love Plays Its Miracles
Love plays its miracles; it can do all kinds of things: When you are sick and sad, it lifts you up from the blues and sings
When we entered that house five years back, It was a 'clean, well-lighted place': white enameled walls, a cozy fireplace, and a kitchen fitted out with a range, gas stove, and white wooden cabinets.
He gave her a narcissuss, when Woolf went to see Freud. Already, she had told those tales and, in between, had cried.
The Wolf And The Lamb In 2012
'Dear Lamb, I'm so sorry for my great grandfather who, in a rush of some indiscreet passion, killed yours on the bank of this beautiful stream, In cold blood—rather unbecoming fashion.
On Seeing Daffodils
My physician had suggested walk among the hills; and it's there I think I saw some daffodils. I saw them blossom in an early morning haze, hidden from all untutored human gaze.
Thinking Of My Bucket List
Since I'm past the time when it is hard to think that, somewhere, Death might have laid his snares, I keep telling myself over and over, as I drink deep on life, that I might be caught unawares.
Through long, dark blanketing winters,
We try to keep up with life.
Every cold day, we sniff through our Coffins
To feel if it smells like grass, and wait
For bells to toll that stifling silence
Away, and hear the chirruping that breaks
Out of the ice-clods. That makes
It rather easy to stand the frost.