close
US

Poems forever

By US Desk
07 February, 2025

Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline. You’ve got to go so far so fast in such a small space; you’ve got to burn away all the peripherals....

Poems forever

POETS’ CORNER

Poets on poetry

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty

of the world, and makes familiar objects be

as if they were not familiar.

Sylvia Plath

Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline. You’ve got to go so far so fast in such a small space; you’ve got to burn away all the peripherals.

Gwendolyn Brooks

Words can do wonderful things. They pound, purr. They can urge, they can wheedle, whip, whine. They can sing, sass, singe. They can churn, check, channelize. They can be a

Hup two three four. They can forge a fiery

army of a hundred languid men.

Rainer Maria Rilke

In the deepest hour of the night, confess to yourself that you would die if you were

forbidden to write. And look deep into your heart where it spreads its roots, the answer,

and ask yourself, must I write?

Confession

By Shaheer Ali Khan

"Stay away," he cried, with tears in his eyes,

As I approached, questions filling my mind.

"I'm one who has constantly denied,

And left the principles of morality behind."

Rattled by the words he abruptly spoke,

I couldn’t bring myself to a calm state.

With doubt, I asked, "Just what do you mean?

These words of yours, I can’t relate."

Still crying, out of breath, he barely spoke:

"Lies and deceit are all I have given you.

Nothing true or fair do I have to offer—

I’ve done this since the first day I met you."

The words I heard felt foreign to me.

Time passed before their meaning was clear.

I took a deep breath and asked myself:

"Were the good times we shared insincere?"

I came to know he was suffering as well,

From a condition called compulsive lying.

It meant he couldn’t help but deceive—

Conflicted emotions, inside he was dying.

To leave him alone—how could I dare?

He mustered the courage and confessed.

With bright hopes to begin again, I said:

"Can’t we be friends once more?"

At stake

By Amna Ameer

I wish forgiveness

Came easily

In nicely wrapped packages

Always arriving at the right time

With no piece missing

There were no returns

Or exchanges

It would just, be

Added with a dose of

Forgetfulness

I wish I could say

I have received

And I have healed

And I have forgotten

Instead of remembering

Each painful detail

And every transgression

I wish my heart wasn't always this heavy

And my eyes wouldn't be brimming with tears

I wish I was a whole person

When I feel like

I'm always looking

For that feeling

Of being complete

I wish I owned my life

And stopped living

Like it was something borrowed

And I wish I knew all the answers

When all I do is wake up with questions

I wish I was as sure of happiness

As deserving I think I am of grief

I wish I could go on

But the list remains incomplete

I wish I could live life

The way it was

Before you spoiled it

Now everything smells of you,

And every good is laden with guilt

Something incriminating

Or just survivor’s instincts

All I know

Is that I'll never be absolved

Of your sins

For taking out the ache

Would mean letting go of life

And though I think

There's only my heart

Engrossed in yearning

And barely surviving

But there's more than one person

At stake