Sometimes with people, known and unknown. Each ride brings a bubble of fun ....
Poems forever
By Sara Teasdale
I thought I had forgotten,
But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
In a rush of rain.
I remembered a darkened doorway
Where we stood while the storm swept by,
Thunder gripping the earth
And lightning scrawled on the sky.
The passing motor busses swayed,
For the street was a river of rain,
Lashed into little golden waves
In the lamp light's stain.
With the wild spring rain and thunder
My heart was wild and gay;
Your eyes said more to me that night
Than your lips would ever say.
I thought I had forgotten,
But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
In a rush of rain.
By Abid Agha
Clockwise or counterclockwise,
I take the ride until the sun subsides.
Often, I ride alone,
Sometimes with people, known and unknown.
Each ride brings a bubble of fun,
Gradually slowing, an experience to discern.
I hold on tight as the ride spins fast,
With a touch of fear of being outcast.
A ride once completed may never return,
So I seize the moment, with joy to burn.
Today's fun ride will be history tomorrow—
I fill my day with joy, not sorrow.
The merry-go-round stays all season,
But riders keep changing without reason.
I wish my ride could last long,
With no chance of losing myself in the throng.
By Amna Ameer
When I sat with my grief
Afraid that it was consuming me
Alarmed that it would drive me insane
Looking for a hopeful eye
A kind heart
A kindred spirit
When I so desperately wanted
To make sense of why
I didn't want to live anymore
When the reason to wake up
Seemed so bleak
And my life unwanted
I picked myself up
Like a discarded piece of advice
I let my dreams dry in the winter sun
I let autumn devour me to the bones
I shaved away my skin to endure my mistakes
I disowned my wounds
And walked without a name
I realised too late
I had nothing in common
With the person I was at birth
The life that once bloomed
Was always entangled with remorse
Each breath a burden
Each year a struggling nuance
I came to accept
My ill-fated dreams
I knew there's no one
To bandage the wounds
No one took the blame for
Yet was always
Nestled with me
Like a blanket
Of false comfort
I finally knew
What it meant to live
And find comfort in death
That grief was not new
It had always tinged my view
A little grey
