Categories
Poetry (English)

I Sit Beside

I sit beside the lake,
Collecting blue tulips
Which float on the red water.
Smoke and dust has filled the sky.
Ashes with the wind come
And stick to my wounds,
From which, now and then,
A thick drop trickles
Down and down,
All way to the lake.
I caress the grass with
Three fingers, as my mother would have,
My wounds.
The soil smells like her,
And so smells the ash, of her.
Red clouds above, in the sky
And around, smoke and dust,
But I sit beside the lake,
Collecting blue tulips.

© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Categories
Published Works

Water Spills

Published in Spillwords Press

… I slit the veins all visible
To see the colour of my blood,
It slowly trickles down.
Ad infinitum spills water

Read here

Categories
Poetry (English)

Oceans And Skies

Oceans and skies float in her eyes,
At horizons she sits cross-legged.
Leaving behind all miseries, pains,
Far from the hypocrisies wretched.

The water, the winds, these waves,
Wrap her in their blessed arms.
She hides in the fog, the mists,
Breathing in the holy warmth.

Drop by drop assimilating in the blue,
Drop by drop annihilating in the blue.

© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Categories
Poetry (English)

She Hides

She hides brimmed eyes behind walls.
Why do they do this, O Lord?
Beneath the veil, she wears a thousand wounds.
They try to erode out her Faith with blades,
But every cut pours out the light of her Deen,
Bathing her profusely with layers of blood,
Blood strengthened in submission to the eternal Truth.

She hides brimmed eyes behind the walls.
She will never let them win.
To her Lord, in sujood, she will cry for hours,
But will not let them consider her weak.
They will never have the satisfaction of seeing her
In tears, in pain, shattering.
Who says she is alone? She needs no mortal soul.
In her hands, she holds tight, the rope of Al Muhaymin.

© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Categories
Poetry (English)

Besides An Old

Besides an old grave,
A woman is often seen.
Her cries are not heard,
But ever since her eyes have been
Swollen red.

Wrapped in grief smeared white,
She to dark alleys escapes.
Her skin is a tattered wound.
Rusty patches she scrapes,
Blood spills.

A black band round her throat,
Slits her slowly, tightly chokes.
Words wrangle her letter by letter,
She to swallow the poisonous pukes
Is forced.

O Woman O Woman
Since ages you are painted such.
A silent pale puppet,
Who screams but rebels.
Burdened with an ideal mould
In which your desires not fit.
The grave of your dreams you carry
In your hearts,
Where you too forget to visit.
The inscriptions of your fathers and sons
You are made to carry by throat,
But forget they that God the most high
Has equal mercy on you bestowed.

O Woman O Woman
Walk to the graveyard,
Move the lid, dig out
All those dreams you buried,
deep down.

© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Categories
Poetry (English)

Breathe

Breathe.
Breathe O Breathe!
Do not let it torment you.
Look up at the blue sky,
Up there up up
Is the throne of our Lord.
On it seated is the One God,
The master of the heavens,
Of all worlds,
Who sees it all
Who hears the unsaid.
O Lord bless us,
Make our trembling hearts strong.
Let us never cry O Lord,
But in Your remembrance.

© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Categories
Published Works

Lovelorn

Published in Spillwords Press

… I have an umbrella in hand,
It is Yellow, the colour of happiness
But my body is pale,
My eyes are grey and cheeks blanched …

Read here

Categories
Poetry (English)

O Little Heart

O little heart! What happened?
Come to me. Do not cry.
Such pearls in little beady eyes,
My child come, do not cry.

I know your heart restlessly sobs,
In you is an ocean of tears.
Come O Come, you and I will walk,
Ahead is the land of no fears.

© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Categories
Poetry (English)

The Shackles

The shackles are getting tighter,
So the fingers on her neck,
Coercing her to plead, to beg,
For each little breath.

Red paintings engraved,
Seal even the skin pores,
Thus caging her fanatically
Behind intimidating doors.

She will not cry,
No, she will not plead.
Instead, she smiles,
For her Lord near she sees.

© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Categories
Poetry (English)

My Mind Struggles

My mind struggles
Through the ripples
Of voices,
They choke my breath.

Many words revolve
To try to resolve
Circumstances,
But never are said.

With Time it will be healed,
All wounds will be sealed
For He hears the unsaid,
My Lord is near.

© Muntazir
Picture Credit