You’ll say it’s a disease, but deep down you’ll know it's because of me— Loneliness, regret, nostalgia mixed with grief...
Poems forever
By Robert Herrick
How Love came in, I do not know,
Whether by th’ eye, or eare, or no:
Or whether with the soule it came
(At first) infused with the same:
Whether in part ‘tis here or there,
Or, like the soule, whole every where:
This troubles me: but as I well
As any other, this can tell;
That when from hence she does depart,
The out-let then is from the heart.
By Maida Shahid
One day you’ll feel so sick,
Not because you have an upset stomach, but an upset soul.
A pain so deep inside, you won’t be able to recognize.
You’ll want to vomit, but only bile will rise.
You’ll say it’s a disease, but deep down you’ll know it's because of me—
Loneliness, regret, nostalgia mixed with grief.
You’ll say you’re lethargic, but you’ll know it’s me.
You’ll beg, on your knees, tears down your face.
You’ll realize what you did, what you meant to me.
Judged on God’s name, yet had no good inside,
Made yourself to be perfect when you were just pathetic.
Did things as if you’d never die.
You took life as a child's play, but you'll realize—
Who does wrong, gets wronged, you see.
Not by mere people but a bigger authority, you’ll see.
I meant you no harm, but you made me plead.
I’ll just watch when you feel exactly how I feel,
Crying your eyes out to the heavens, with no one to see.
I’ll pity you then as I pity you now.
One day you’ll realize how you made me feel.
Your ego, bigger than your face, still won’t let you apologize.
I’ll finally walk away, avenged by forgiveness.
But it’s okay—your misery shall suffice.
By Adnan Ahmad
Life is an infertile field,
Sown with spiny thorns.
The world we live in,
Full of sighs and mourns.
Here may come storms—
Of grief and ups and downs,
But we should live on,
As a tree that stands and has grown.
Some of us cast down their arms,
While others persevere,
Like a bird building its nest in a ruined home.
By Sa'ad Nazeer
I am a poet
Yet there's no poem
That I can claim to be truly mine
Not even these piddly ink drops of mine,
Each word is emblazoned with your face
They all are about you
About your smooth vibrant skin--
How mesmerizing you are
About your heartfires---how you were left alone
Ah, the thought!
People will always find you in my inky parchments
That I will always find you here
You will always find yourself
But they'll never find me
Even you will never find me
In my verse.
By Abid Agha
The Moon walked with me last night,
Slow and quiet, moving side by side.
We stayed together for hours long,
Its majestic glow sang nature's song.
A pin-drop silence kept us still;
This soulful journey, a cherished thrill.
A puff of clouds flew to hide the light,
But darkness faded in a moment’s sight.
I looked at the Moon with a gloomy face—
Why I’m low is hard to trace.
Tales I recall tied to moonlight,
Of human sorrow, loss, and plight.
O Moon, our journey comes to its close,
In your gentle light, I find repose.
