In time—
I won’t remember your face,
nor its contours or expressions
Only emotions will remain
Nor will I remember the reasons,
only the pangs of a ‘how could you?’,
the tickling giggle of an ‘oh my god, remember when?’,
not your voice or tone,
nor what was even said back then
The starting credits will read:
‘Based on a true story’,
‘An adaptation of…’
And I’ll impatiently hit ‘skip intro‘—
because I always remember exactly what happened…
or so I keep telling myself.
Category: Memories
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Netfliction
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Ice dance
You live in a little snow globe in my heart
I can shake it up and watch as the snow adorns you anew,
Smile and relive that frozen moment—
That fragile, timeless void where we danced,
Where you were mine,
Where it was too warm for snowflakes to touch
I can still tap on the glass,
Hold that little world within,
Where I always kept you,
Quietly adored you
Though now,
I’ll always remain on this side,
Peering through the snow
I can’t join you anymore
My world cannot be held,
At least not by these hands
But no one can take this you from me—
This you, immortalised,
This you, for me alone
For this, I thank you.
I’ll let the snow settle now…
It could never touch you anyway.Imagery inspired by this scene from the film Edward Scissorhands: https://youtu.be/J6xzL0TrsRY
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A writer’s conundrum
The beauty I find in disarray
Turns dismay into a hobby, a pastime
Memories of a time past
Felt everlasting once, but couldn’t,
Alas they must remain in disarray,
In shards,
In pieces,
Broken strings not to be threaded
For there was no single story,
No one narrative,
No words to be lost, recalled, revised or omitted
Only the essence,
The sentiment,
The tender sting of nostalgia
Raw emotion in perpetuity
With I, in servitude to it’s beautiful ambiguity
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No man No cry
This is in tribute to a favourite song of mine No man No cry by Jimmy Sax:
How does the sax man do it?
What’s in those notes that pull with beautiful pain?
It hurts so bad as the sax screams ‘no man no cry!’
No cry? But the journey is down a path where something died—
A part of me,
A world that ended,
Smouldering slowly..
That sax… killing me softly,
A heady nostalgic concoction flowing into my veins.
I’m shaking, but the high is fleeting,
I want to make my heart stop beating.
Succumb to the sound,
Get lost in the memory I just found.
Or is it a reverie? I can’t be sure,
There is no cure,
There is no cure.
Such is the sound,
The sax is tearing me down.
On my knees, I’m begging stop!
Please don’t stop!
Wait!
My heart… it’s remembering something,
It hurts but it’s beautiful,
This memory that was once and then never to be.
Stop but don’t stop please!
What are you doing to me?
I’m losing myself,
Dancing with ghosts to this haunting melody.
Wait, I recognize these visages,
These evanescent mirages swirling just out of reach,
Twirling faster as the high notes screech.
It burns but please don’t stop!
There’s a beauty in this beyond words,
Way beyond cognition,
An inferno from another realm,
Ignited by each note of your rendition.
You’ve killed me once again…
And as I come blinking back to life,
The mirages fade,
My heart wipes a tear.
I failed you, sax man,
You said: ‘No man no cry.’
I’d say I tried…
But that would be a lie
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Eid chaand (moon)
They say Eid has come and gone,
Twice over!
The streets are scented with rose petals and fatty aromas of feasts from every home
Pristine pressed garments adorn the happy crowds,
Flowing like flags at full mast in jubilation,
Like sails gently billowing with each excited breath
Gleeful faces embrace with glistening gazes,
Rising above this gentle hum of joyful chatter, a chorus of “Eid Mubarak” echoes in every ear
“Eid is here! Eid is here!”
A small child runs through the town, beaming,
Screaming,
As his little prayer hat bounces around his crown.
A nostalgic, soothing sound
Yet I stand here confused,
Bemused and surprised
How can it be Eid today, when my moon has yet to rise?
I’ve been searching now for days,
It’s like she vanished,
Like she fell out of the sky
It’s empty up there,
As am I down here
Where is my moon?
Have you seen her?
Eluding my eyes, yet consuming my mind,
I’m looking up, but the clouds refuse to part
My heart races,
Eyes darting across the skies in vain
Mystified, I’m misty-eyed,
All I feel is the rain
It sure doesn’t feel like Eid…
In this sea of celebration,
I’m adrift, seeking her gaze
My moon…
I only find her absence when I look up
The air feels stagnant without her scent,
The feasts lack flavor and festivities premature
Why is everyone celebrating?
Eid isn’t here
I think the Imam made a mistake
It can’t be Eid without her…
It can’t be Eid without her!
She’s not in the sky
It can’t be Eid without her
No, I’m not crazy, this is!
So stop all the hugs and kisses
Take down the lights and turn off the stoves
Go home
I’ll look again tomorrow…
Perhaps a glimpse tomorrow?
Inshallah…
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Be
Today our threads weave a tapestry,
Tomorrow, those same threads may fray
We cannot lift the future’s veil,
Nor embrace shadows of yesterday
Today is where we will be,
Where our story will be woven
So dance with me and sing full voice!
For tomorrow will remain unspoken…
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Desert of Solitude
In this desert of solitude, quivers
The shadow of your voice,
The chimera of your touch
A warm breeze rises over the horizon,
Lifting the dunes into the sky,
As though God himself turned back the sands of time.
Enveloped in this blanket, my love,
The burning sun of distance between us, is a mere candle,
Spilling into dusk’s horizon, akin to a toppled chalice.
Although the chalice has long since dried,
It is as though the intoxication of our first union has reignited the barren sky,
And the fireflies are dancing once again.
Such is the fragrance of your memory,
Sweet jasmine on these winds of solitude.This was my interpretation inspired by the Urdu poem: Dasht-e-tanhaayi by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
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Round 1
Thirteen going on thirty,
His fluffy beard is kinda dirty
It belies that he’s a baby
But his dad won’t let him shave itSummers round the corner
with the weather getting warmer
The kitchens looking worn,
so he’s busy decoratingSanding paint and peeling paper
Playing catch-up with the neighbours,
An expert with the scraper
He leans further from his stoolFrom the lounge emerge faint noises,
It’s his parents rising voices,
Dad is getting restless
But its mum that makes the rulesSkilfully surreptitious
Hearing words that sound malicious
The mood darkens to become vicious
He’s refereed this match beforeNothing seems amiss
When he’s greeted by red mist,
Caught up amidst the fists,
As they continue to even the scoreSuppressing waves of fear
Prying fingers he holds dear
Catching an elbow to the ear
He begins to sense the toneParting the two beasts
He tries to make the peace
‘Help me hello police!?’
His mother screams down the phoneOut of the frying pan and into the fire
As if the situation wasn’t dire
Now he’s to judge who is the liar
Time is not his friendBetween a hard place and a rock
Keeping one eye on the clock
Suddenly hearing the dreaded knock
It’s time to play pretendSo his mother isn’t well
She didn’t mean to yell
That bruise is cos she fell
All in all she’s quite worn outNow you can’t deny
That dad has a black eye
But he’ll merely testify
That dad is clumsy without a doubtServing lies up on a platter
So charming with his chatter
Pretending it doesn’t matter
He has to bite his tongueGritted teeth distort his smile
The officer senses his beguile
But before she can put him to trial
Mum admits that she was wrongShe didn’t mean to call
She was confused after her fall
Of course there wasn’t a brawl
She says sorry and shrinks awayJust 15 minutes before
Dad was begging on the floor
He would never blame mum again he swore
It was groundhog DayThe officers hands were tied
She knew that mum had lied
Justice would be denied
But she had no other choiceShe consoled the boy in the hall
And though he was 6ft tall
He seemed so very small
And somehow lost his voiceHe wanted her to know
That this was all for show
And was begging her not to go
But his lips they never movedIn silence he stood and stared
At those for which he cared
Rooted as if he were snared
Waiting for the inevitable, round number two
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