I stood there watching, as more fell in front of me.... I went against my will as I set myself free....
Poems forever
By Emily Brontë
The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.
The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.
Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.
By Mishaal Khan
She touched her blank paper with a pen
But paused, just then
Wondering why nothing made sense
Wondering why she couldn’t write
The thoughts that burdened her anguished mind
And when she looked down at her paper
To see what she wrote
Tear drops stained
Her wordless page
Every inch it enveloped
And its in that moment she realized
A story had already been conveyed
There was no need to write
By Abid Agha
The whistling train leaves the station,
Gaining momentum, it moves on,
Leaving behind blurry scenes,
People, places, and shapes unseen.
Your waving hands, your gloomy face,
Now look hazy in dusk's embrace.
Oh, I felt droplets on my face,
Rolling down silently—
I couldn’t figure it out, frankly:
Was it to say adieu to you,
Or part ways with you forever?
Suddenly, a train passed by,
With a heavy, rhythmic sound,
Pulling my memories back
To my own harsh world.
Kenny G’s instrumental track on the train,
And, far-sighted,
Majestic peaks of snow-capped mountains
Whispered loudly within me—
Adieu, Vienna. Adieu, Vienna.
By Sarmad Tanvir
I feel the cold breeze brushing against my cheek.
My lips are all numb; I can barely speak.
As I look in the sky, I see black clouds forming.
I believe it will rain, as the thunder keeps informing.
It is daytime, but I see the streetlights on.
The darkness has taken hold; the sun is long gone.
All of a sudden, something fell on my head.
It was a droplet of rain; I ran towards a shed.
I stood there watching, as more fell in front of me.
I went against my will as I set myself free.
When the rain touched my face, I realized what I had missed.
As I walked further into it, I got lost in the mist.
By Sartaj Aziz Khan
Like a resurrecting angel
Every December
Makes alive
The deep rooted
Long forgotten
Memories
