tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91911622903945529422024-02-20T14:55:40.310-05:00Come Be My IllusionMunazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-45268347134372311992011-01-22T05:53:00.000-05:002011-01-22T05:53:09.474-05:00The Muse Unfolds...<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d; font-style: italic;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;"><b><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br />
</span></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>Dear dear illusion of apocalyptic sky </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>how have you been in the volcanic cry </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>the mushes, the lure, the galvanic eye</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>the one who staged your manic die</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>the plethora of dust, Hust..it must!</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>you just couldnt see the gust of crust</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>lust you cursed was bound to rust </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>the burst of soul, the locked unjust</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>the daily dose of fresh sublime</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>cut into ears, the sour rhyme</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>the photofinished nostalgic mime</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>left to burn..Time to crime!</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>the two rounds of satanic whirl</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>the illusion changed, the cryptic hurl </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>if not today, the ecliptic twirl</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>the dreamer will die in a triptych pearl</i></span></div></i></b></span>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-90356093278276226102009-04-09T10:12:00.000-05:002009-04-09T10:13:41.848-05:00Hasrat<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; ">Hasrat us lakeer ki manend hai<br />Jo sihayi ke beghair veeraan rehty hai....<br />Per har pal, har khwaab sisakty rehty hai....<br />Phir ek din koi uska khaaka bun jata hai..<br />Aur yun hasrat ko apni taabeer mil jaty hai..<br /><br />Hasrat ki soch uski taabeer pe ruk si jaty hai..<br />Shayed wo is gumaan mein hai ke <br />Faqt ek khwaab uski aazmaish ka sahara hai...<br />Aur hasrat is etemaad ko<br />Apney pallu baandh ke so jaty hai..<br /><br />Per aj..<br />Janey kyun...<br /><br />Janey kyun us khaakey ki siyahi madham ho gayi hai...<br />Janey kyun..<br /><br />________________________________________<wbr>________________<br /><i>Kuch is qadar bekhabar thi khwabeeda nazam<br />Ke rakht-e-safar se afsos, na-aashna reh gayi</i></span>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-21664277872046934682008-12-11T19:20:00.006-05:002008-12-11T19:30:23.162-05:00Good Night<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3xCyyofxIek4ewFR7ZwbjwmIhm8qrCwvLdGQ7_L3YHrTIXU3WDYVAo2AnhR7ZqKIp8xxZCznR8YcUFaGPfhcctKVfTCg9tnCxzeHn_tMfkM4-qS9segDLAG9zqT16y5vVutjr-GNFMpk/s1600-h/Soulstorm_by_donia.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3xCyyofxIek4ewFR7ZwbjwmIhm8qrCwvLdGQ7_L3YHrTIXU3WDYVAo2AnhR7ZqKIp8xxZCznR8YcUFaGPfhcctKVfTCg9tnCxzeHn_tMfkM4-qS9segDLAG9zqT16y5vVutjr-GNFMpk/s320/Soulstorm_by_donia.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278692085287877154" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Your touch...</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Like a story unknown</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Like the atheism forlorn</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">My being...</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Embarrassed in a night’s cry</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Like a shred of cloth you denied</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">My questions...</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Lagging behind your exclamations!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">My pauses..</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Dreading your unkempt declarations.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">I am collecting my senses from my obsession...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">I will have to clean my wardrobe from longed conception...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">So do we stop now?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Or start a new sentence?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">And as I write, the breaks remind me</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Of the dreaded future tense.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Tonight is the night that I change my hide,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">My ring, my wet and my little eyes.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Tonight is the night when I change my name,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">I have played enough, now I leave you untamed.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></o:p></p>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-57716329974005676752008-01-02T00:45:00.001-05:002008-01-02T00:45:23.632-05:00Call me<embed src="http://www.jaxtr.com/user/flash/smallwidget.swf" FlashVars="titleJaxtr=Connect%20by%20phone%21&userJaxtr=munazza.h&apiURL=http://www.jaxtr.com/user&apiURLAlt=http://www.jaxtr.com/user&sc=Blogger" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="166" height="270" name="jaxtrwidget" wmode="transparent" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="sameDomain" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"></embed><div><a href="http://www.jaxtr.com/user/registration.jsp?userJaxtr=munazza.h&wtype=small&sc=Blogger">Get jaxtr</a> | <a href="http://www.jaxtr.com/user/login.jsp">Login</a></div><img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/JnB*PTExOTkyNTI3MDIwMjUmcD*3MzkyMSZkPSZuPWJsb2dnZXI=.jpg" />Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-86447057380141394572007-09-16T15:05:00.000-05:002007-09-17T00:08:00.389-05:00Dear Me!<span style="color:#000000;">I had a big day and you had too<br />when Dear life smudged me<br />and pulled back through.<br /><br />Like the two Niles across my face<br />and a Sahara on yours,<br />defintions seeked a word,<br />and they still do.<br /><br />Dear skin why do you keep<br />all brown<br />when its all blue,<br />the all night ceiling,<br />and The Not Talking statue.<br /><br />Bleed it,<br />till the pus leaves you,<br />whichever way it travels<br />the Cut marks me,<br />and so do you.<br /><br />Dear madness may I ask you,<br />when you gave a birth in twilight’s hue,<br />did you write a name on a dark so lone,<br />or could you find a mate<br />in the morning dew?<br /><br />Broken Es and Gs and Os,<br />make a pit hole in every drac’s motto.<br />So did she, and so did he,<br />and so do I,<br />like a big frothing hollow.<br />So I repeat Dear sucked low,<br />don’t suck it back<br />for the love of you.<br /><br />Dear shadow,<br />now you may take turn,<br />as the dawn and the dusk<br />stop to follow.<br />Long arms and small feet<br />Push I to them,<br />As a cobbler mismatched<br />In a blacksmith’s crew.<br /><br />Now Now<br />I have a nail too,<br />To draw my curse on every<br />Small and long shoe,<br />Try it if you want,<br />Sulk if you lose,<br />Dear shadow<br />But But<br />follow me through.</span>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-25235115955708568422007-09-10T02:59:00.000-05:002007-09-10T03:00:53.180-05:00Ek Aetaraaf<div class="para">Wo padhtey rahey khuda ko khudaayi samajh ker<br />Hum likhtey rahey ghazal ko rubaayi samajh ker<br />Na band-dagi khoj paayey na hi aashiqi mili<br />Phir kyu le gaye wo duaa ko duhaayi samajh ker<br /><br />Hum na madhosh they na hi zeehosh they<br />Thodey nazron mein they thodey roposh they<br />Jo aajazi ko tumney yun cheena is tarha<br />Ab to jee uthey hain pehlay khaamosh they<br /><br />Jo noor ko jala dey wo hiddat hum mein nahi thi<br />Jo kaif ko bujha dey wo tadap ghum mein nahi thi<br />Phir kyu lut gayi duniya or aabdeeda they chashm<br />Jab wo baat khaaksaar ke kalam mein nahi thi<br /><br />Qaseeda ban gaye thi kuch inaayat is tarha<br />Tamashaa-e-zauq se na ho kuch shikaayat jis tarha<br />Likh diye fasaney yun nighah buland ker ke<br />“Naz” ban gayi ho khuda ki hadaayat jis tarha </div>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-54326278224991906732007-09-07T19:53:00.000-05:002008-12-09T18:46:48.547-05:00A Tale Of Mundanity<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2WMe-yn7H95RyFR2-aL6bo_li2QALnpJCm9EIN4ZGNxr6obnBuccUEgTLP73hremunUYHqxlk-3tK_pvs18hyNYA3yZWo2I6JBR766xO_JnXjkUnwHgTSYANknykj9PVBthhROzrddQ/s1600-h/Does_it_Really_Matter____Whore_by_kalenisis.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2WMe-yn7H95RyFR2-aL6bo_li2QALnpJCm9EIN4ZGNxr6obnBuccUEgTLP73hremunUYHqxlk-3tK_pvs18hyNYA3yZWo2I6JBR766xO_JnXjkUnwHgTSYANknykj9PVBthhROzrddQ/s320/Does_it_Really_Matter____Whore_by_kalenisis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107630859720836450" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> http://kalenisis.deviantart.com/art/Does-it-Really-Matter-Whore-23623498</span><br /></div><h3 style="text-align: center;"><br /><o:p></o:p></h3><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">1) Dribbling through my shadows,<br />A mundanity flows, sometimes like<br />A bout of nausea, or a rain soaked<br />Earth; perhaps a whore sucks lives<br />In every breath of yours.</p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><br /><br />2) Sculpted heart, with a smile and a gaze,<br />Formless mass stacked in a chair,<br />A stain on the shadow like a poetic mistake;<br />Which way a corpse would fall<br />On a multipolar stage? <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><br />3) Two wings outgrown, and a womb to dry,<br />Shred every cell or bubble in joy,<br /><i>Virgin Mary</i> or <i>Charpillon’s</i> cry;<br />Would a dream be immortal in a parrot’s voice? <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><br />4) Marked by age, and the fate of some caterpillars,<br />Longing stems wait for springs to hide from lovers;<br />Poor trees perhaps they didnt know why,<br />Stripped or clothed, shadows lived for thy vile! <o:p></o:p></p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-80601581147564433132007-09-02T03:12:00.000-05:002007-09-02T03:13:10.116-05:00Bikher Gaye..!Jab bhi hasraton ko thaamey terey koochey se guzrey<br />Hawaaon ne dareechon key rukh badal diye<br /><br />Jab khawabon per mohrein si waqt ne laga di<br />Nazar kya tasweer kya tasawwur badal diye<br /><br />Sadiaan si beet chali hain yun saayey ki aas mein<br />Tumney jo badley ghar, humney dil badal diye<br /><br />Ab kya karein shikwa jab khud hi harjaa’ee they<br />Kisi aashiq ki tehreer-e-ghum ne muqaddar badal diye<br /><br />Laut aao ab ke “naz” kuch na baaki hai<br />Teri chaukhat ki sarhad ne takhallus badal diyeMunazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-69575601294708110772007-08-30T01:07:00.000-05:002007-09-10T03:02:50.382-05:00Lost In A SpeckHow easy it is to shatter a moment of silence, but we still long for it. Perhaps the momentary wait is too long to see the voids built within. Void!!! Probably I couldn’t come up with a better term to hide that dread nurturing within my bounds.Before it touched my senses, it fed on “love and passion”..huh..thats what I used to say. Its funny how equations within oneself form, change or die. From love to void, it just took three months, or maybe three moments inside me. I always used to say that life is strange, but how strange can a truth be, and how funny it sounds when reality fills within.<br /><br /><br />Yeah! It’s all happening within the flesh and skin of me, and I am unable to accept or deny it. That’s why it’s easier to shatter those moments and hide behind busy mornings and loaded evenings. The sense of urgency keeps away the sense of guilt or responsibility. The afternoon conversations blur the silences before and after the rings, and so the blind walk continues…<br /><br /><br />Loving him was irresistible, making love to him perhaps the only dream… but lost is my way in the dots ahead.<br /><br /><br />There is a very fine line between ecstasy and emptiness…both push you in a daze where you nourish or sulk alone..He left me filled or sucked the Me out of me…maybe you would know… but all I sense and feel is the tremble of the first touch, or the news of my love materialized…and I wondered..as I still do. How probable it is to love someone, and be loved by him, and how likely it is to be in love with your bond materialized within the core of you kicking and reminding a night out of all the nights..I wonder..<br /><br /><br />Technically and conventionally, love passes on..from a man and woman to their child…So am I not human if I didn’t want this string attached to me? Am I not in love with my man? Or maybe I was too quick to let my emotions get in stream..I wonder!<br /><br /><br /><em>A speck of dirt am I</em><br /><em>Flying high</em><br /><em>The whorl won’t open</em><br /><em>In a sky so tied</em><br /><em>Neither did you bore me</em><br /><em>Nor I would die</em><br /><em>A moment still waits</em><br /><em>To break me from the sky </em>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-47506079874544475302007-08-12T21:22:00.000-05:002008-12-09T18:46:48.715-05:00The Toy Owls<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOa8EhU5EnF_7hAz9yX64NBD8x4dAeoqd4x0Fnb8V84lxYfpuRJqBQQIryH8TmZEfEtwHjUrLfiS8qXyMvciF_5_Cndpmc1VRvQChlZ5e-ZkGXix7Pr805dpDwxVmvVhPASEeXdO3s_lM/s1600-h/Plastic_dreams_by_petitescargot.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098025808191184466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOa8EhU5EnF_7hAz9yX64NBD8x4dAeoqd4x0Fnb8V84lxYfpuRJqBQQIryH8TmZEfEtwHjUrLfiS8qXyMvciF_5_Cndpmc1VRvQChlZ5e-ZkGXix7Pr805dpDwxVmvVhPASEeXdO3s_lM/s320/Plastic_dreams_by_petitescargot.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/46357462/?q=plastic+&qh=boost%3Apopular+age_sigma%3A24h+age_scale%3A5&qo=20"></a><a href="http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/46357462/?q=plastic+&qh=boost%3Apopular+age_sigma%3A24h+age_scale%3A5&qo=20">http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/46357462/?q=plastic+&qh=boost%3Apopular+age_sigma%3A24h+age_scale%3A5&qo=20</a><br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="color:#000000;">In the mystique of the first sunbeam<br />And the intruding song of the morning birds,<br />The frown behind my gaze leaves a note…<br /><br />Little pebbles that I carry<br />From the lost journey of an ocean,<br />Fall onto my slept dream...<br /><br />And the search continues...<br /><br />“When did I learn to adorn my lies?<br />And draw the tear streaked covers of pleading hopes?<br />Probably a door still exists<br />Behind the forbidden shimmer of morning hues”<br /><br />Toy owls chirp and laugh in the nests of robins and crows,<br />‘Oh I love you sweetheart’ they chant as they brush our plastic cores<br /><br />Lives and after lives paused,<br />Wait on the longing trees,<br /><em>The melting</em> still looks for a sun,<br />Or perhaps a burning dream…<br /><br />But one day the desires are sucked away,<br />As the toyed loonies break,<br />And the <em>night strangers</em> are left to sulk<br />In the chlorinated beams through vacant caves!</span> </span></div>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-41750952027469539072007-07-18T01:15:00.000-05:002008-12-09T18:46:48.832-05:00I Arrive..!<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6dSO3_TaYWyQ90v0oqTEZ0rsH2k0a5gk5uy5-vCIk-yYwr26CPaSgZ89-a7lfRwAGLtCecK404wPo8ftbX6YWM1IiKpQKshikfBdmBtVnfHY7PURAvwxjyl_km9RBlSZu_6diecrR5Y/s1600-h/Fire_and_Ice_by_DuvallGear.jpg"><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088417472125623794" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6dSO3_TaYWyQ90v0oqTEZ0rsH2k0a5gk5uy5-vCIk-yYwr26CPaSgZ89-a7lfRwAGLtCecK404wPo8ftbX6YWM1IiKpQKshikfBdmBtVnfHY7PURAvwxjyl_km9RBlSZu_6diecrR5Y/s320/Fire_and_Ice_by_DuvallGear.jpg" border="0" /></span></em></a><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></span></em><a href="http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/39196467/?qo=36&q=fire&qh=boost%3Apopular+age_sigma%3A24h+age_scale%3A5"><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/39196467/?qo=36&q=fire&qh=boost%3Apopular+age_sigma%3A24h+age_scale%3A5</span></em></a><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br /><br /></span></em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" ><strong><em>There you bloom<br />With the secret of tears<br />And harmony,<br />As I seek<br />The love of light<br /><br />I have waited since<br />Words had a meaning<br />To the vertex where letters<br />Lost their sight<br /><br />I lived a virgin dream,<br />Where strangers stretched my<br />Desires<br /><br />Wish<br />I- the withheld,<br />And you-the key,<br />Would unlock<br />The spark of “reality”<br /><br />Now you provoke,<br />And I drink the stream,<br />Till the fire burns<br />The dust of me<br /><br />In the dark you<br />be the knight,<br />And I merge into you<br />For the lust of joy<br /><br />Tasteless step<br />Into the ring of sweat,<br />With the libation of sins<br />I arrive—I arrive<br /><br /><br />-----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />“Reaching beyond oneself was a right you never dreamed” </em></strong></span></div>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-84693755789142969882007-07-08T01:32:00.000-05:002008-12-09T18:46:49.141-05:00<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs-pvwltQgY9ySHoh5YWPGkRSWH9GUeC_cn9pScfqZPS9Ioe555kbhzg5i6sgK2t_tOXLAFTHrdEH4kcMfHIh2EOaw2Srq6Ycr0QMRI5JVzNWVZjBEnGD_UBkvMqRptovK7ljrhc8Nwsw/s1600-h/Insatiable_by_ChishikiLauren.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084718082155072210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs-pvwltQgY9ySHoh5YWPGkRSWH9GUeC_cn9pScfqZPS9Ioe555kbhzg5i6sgK2t_tOXLAFTHrdEH4kcMfHIh2EOaw2Srq6Ycr0QMRI5JVzNWVZjBEnGD_UBkvMqRptovK7ljrhc8Nwsw/s320/Insatiable_by_ChishikiLauren.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/29413356/">http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/29413356/</a> </div><div align="center"><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><strong>Crawling is an art,<br />Once legs leave the<br />Mass to graze the spikes<br /><br />Then foot steps become<br />My paintings,<br />And the trail of ants<br />Etch my sights<br /><br />Spiders tell me my name,<br />Lady birds kiss me good bye,<br />The sleep is long,<br />And the gamble<br />Wouldn’t last all night<br /><br />Grave<br />New<br />Ducklings<br />Follow my way,<br />And I let them suckle<br />The sweetness of lies<br /><br />Thousand laughs<br />For a night my love;<br />As I cater your dreams,<br />You fill my<br />Incoherent plight.<br /><br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />“When thirst didn’t have a name but a vacant hunger of The Forbidden Eyes” </strong></span></div>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-80909756726987762762007-07-03T23:14:00.000-05:002007-07-03T23:16:09.808-05:00Kaisay Karun..?Muqaabil hai tera aks mein yaad kaisey karun<br />Vasl-e-yaar mumkin na tha mein faryaad kaisay karun<br /><br />Boond boond ko sahil har shab tadapta raha<br />Ek muthy aashianey ki iltija kaisay karun<br /><br />Deewaney ho chaley hain yun mai ki pyaas mein<br />Raaz-e-aashnayi ko sar-e-bazaar kaisay karun<br /><br />Har gali har koochey mein ruswa ho gaye<br />Dil-e-nadaan ki chaukhat ko beniqaab kaisay karun<br /><br />Na dil aashnayi na berukhi seekh paayi tum “naz”<br />Yun lutti hai duniya ke phir aabaad kaisay karunMunazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-43268721833521085652007-06-30T00:02:00.000-05:002008-12-09T18:46:49.308-05:00<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7DnhWGig7WvnrfIlh7_mxgSJ-klrRdkPDY_AFvaeQoT8tT_UOT0PBNixd636JBj0G-rTaLDSSAoVv49vIhaWJWOxD2dSF6ov5qS9ZX7R1tceu4Sfs8ZsyXKJI0b1DJenoTQvFq6DDT4w/s1600-h/ilk_dokunus_by_shagagraf.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081721934444219074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7DnhWGig7WvnrfIlh7_mxgSJ-klrRdkPDY_AFvaeQoT8tT_UOT0PBNixd636JBj0G-rTaLDSSAoVv49vIhaWJWOxD2dSF6ov5qS9ZX7R1tceu4Sfs8ZsyXKJI0b1DJenoTQvFq6DDT4w/s320/ilk_dokunus_by_shagagraf.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/58565759/">http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/58565759/</a><br /><a href="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs17/f/2007/178/3/0/ilk_dokunus_by_shagagraf.jpg"></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /></div>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-28241087111280535252007-06-29T05:51:00.000-05:002007-06-29T05:57:33.570-05:00Aadat si ho gayi hai...Jab jab moondhi ankhion pe koi hawa ka jhonka chalta hai<br />Dhadkan ab bhi rukty hai ya aadat si ho gayi hai<br /><br />Jab jab paid ki oot se koi khawab chura ke jata hai<br />Paayal ab bhi bajty hai ya aadat si ho gayi hai<br /><br />Jab jab nadi ke shor mein koi deed lagayey rehta hai<br />Paani ab bhi bharty ho ya aadat si ho gayi hai<br /><br />Jab jab lafzon ki aad mein koi chaid chaid ker hasta hai<br />Nazrein ab bhi jhukty hain ya aadat si ho gayi hai<br /><br />Jab jab ek muskaan pe koi hasna bhool sa jata hai<br />“Naz” ab bhi kerty ho ya aadat si ho gayi haiMunazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-1882134965943348362007-06-28T23:07:00.000-05:002008-12-09T18:46:49.435-05:00<a href="http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/43367087/?qo=39&q=question&qh=boost%3Apopular+age_sigma%3A24h+age_scale%3A5"></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDgFaWZYF5glHldIgEHl8C-3qvZx6P0XRfU6BNNWvvLnj_71DkK-5Tcdb9ZJpv-bKW58RfNRjlPj6cW7y0HGhuWDNci0l-7Q2o201KjF_o99jPHdZuD_Za9Ry6rkqc_hOWPTi1o030EA/s1600-h/Question_by_ArhcamtIlnaad.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081335443222153906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDgFaWZYF5glHldIgEHl8C-3qvZx6P0XRfU6BNNWvvLnj_71DkK-5Tcdb9ZJpv-bKW58RfNRjlPj6cW7y0HGhuWDNci0l-7Q2o201KjF_o99jPHdZuD_Za9Ry6rkqc_hOWPTi1o030EA/s320/Question_by_ArhcamtIlnaad.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNAapghsYMmC03hPSc6vCb59p_fN6HcCVYBqEq6l65WNAK02USxL19Miwd0KfCKm350uFBpkdiDWfErCernlynLm7CmgVW_Ujh18WcpcKO_ENTOmdsf-8IOL7otDe4PppLqlFeI6EKgQ/s1600-h/Question_by_ArhcamtIlnaad.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#000000;">Does a supernatural power exist? A deity which controls several universes from beyond…A God? Many a times man debated on this issue, and still does.</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#000000;">Belief vs Logic? Immortal vs Mortal? Lots to argue about, but once a man decides his path, his faith, What then? Does being a believer of “The Unknown”, makes one responsible for following “The Rules”, and “Acceptable” vs “Unacceptable”?<br />What after being “The Believer” one experiences a choice? A choice to choose not between what we want to do or not, but between who makes the choice for us…</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#000000;">the choice to pick, to live, and love..even die..</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#000000;">Life is not the game of choices, but the game of one we select for the play.</span></div><div align="justify"></div></div></div>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-59465915296434350112007-06-27T03:07:00.000-05:002007-06-27T23:39:32.008-05:00.......<p>Gumshuda hai samundar yun seep ki perchayi mein<br />Talaash ho jaisay be-asar kisi shab ki tanhayi mein<br /><br />Berang hai manzar yun shama ki khudnumayi mein<br />Tareek ho jaisay aaina kisi rakht ki bewafayi mein<br /><br />Saakat hai qayenaat yun jurm ki duhaayi mein<br />Tairta ho jaisay toofan kisi mauj ki khudayi mein<br /><br />Tajusus hai qatil yun aansoo ki sunwayi mein<br />Kehtay ho jaisay ghazal kisi sha-ik ki ruswayi mein</p>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-70616266656269568552007-06-26T21:44:00.000-05:002008-12-09T18:46:49.574-05:00Denied<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjia5SsUe9FpMDgiN4V0nU_uloz55aB9sw_qruZ1Ir8cktFcidSVNDzcliNkQbu6Imd3QQJNTrm0cjfFQXTQmSvvCycIds2wabtFlbiAlixCaRFftTMtvW7DvCLaJoAWPaO-tJNal2UDeU/s1600-h/Heal_Me_by_TheChild13.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080587105300368018" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjia5SsUe9FpMDgiN4V0nU_uloz55aB9sw_qruZ1Ir8cktFcidSVNDzcliNkQbu6Imd3QQJNTrm0cjfFQXTQmSvvCycIds2wabtFlbiAlixCaRFftTMtvW7DvCLaJoAWPaO-tJNal2UDeU/s320/Heal_Me_by_TheChild13.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/57776849/?qo=293&q=deaf&qh=boost%3Apopular+age_sigma%3A24h+age_scale%3A5"></a><br /><br /><p align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><em><strong>ever strained<br />to hear,<br />when expectations<br />and fulfilment<br />take a joy ride?<br /><br /></strong></em></span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><em><strong>One ring,<br />then another...<br /><br />obscure<br />blank<br />silence<br /><br />the ten dials<br />propped<br />in<br />figures that surround..<br />my tremble<br />and my temple<br /><br />popped eyes refused,<br />though pen still carries<br />a desire </strong></em></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><em><strong>cure<br />nor do I seek<br />for the aphasic charm<br />that i hide<br /><br />The dinner was </strong></em></span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><em><strong>eaten long ago...</strong></em></span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><em><strong><br />Let me lick the void</strong></em></span></p></div>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-40435672871392912082007-06-24T19:51:00.000-05:002008-12-09T18:46:49.685-05:00The Illusionist<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBb28R6fGGb2dnGfymmK9T7x6WfzuwMEOFhiQ8HYeSubYAiXeqT71WGuSKif5oifRbt8ZYM7kXY5koKBdUqO1vMppze78kHNchyphenhyphen1p32ma5GQYIA6vgVGy9x0zl3Gt01GGyAOw-UubgDeQ/s1600-h/revenge_by_recevoir.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079839694190575490" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBb28R6fGGb2dnGfymmK9T7x6WfzuwMEOFhiQ8HYeSubYAiXeqT71WGuSKif5oifRbt8ZYM7kXY5koKBdUqO1vMppze78kHNchyphenhyphen1p32ma5GQYIA6vgVGy9x0zl3Gt01GGyAOw-UubgDeQ/s320/revenge_by_recevoir.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><strong>Light condemned<br />In my hole today.<br />As a cycle follows<br />In forty nights.<br /><br />Inch by inch,<br />The earth sucks me in,<br />Like<br />A Dracula drinking<br />The orgasmic plight.<br /><br />I clip my claws<br />Again and again,<br />But still they find<br />The papered walls.<br /><br />Seven colors in the<br />Rainbowed eyes..<br />Sip me once,<br />Before the twilight.<br /><br />Packed already?<br />You wish you’d leave!<br />Constellations follow<br />Your hasty strides.<br /><br />I write my verse<br />Letter by letter,<br />So it stays where<br />The Plath died.<br /><br />Smoked pieces<br />Of deserted inn,<br />Remind me of<br />My scissor veins...<br /><br />Once a stranger,<br />Made love,<br />To a mourning voice<br />Of a concubine.<br /><br />Neither a puzzle,<br />Nor a story,<br />A rotten waste that<br />That you leave behind.<br /><br />O caricatured smile,<br />I talk to you today,<br />Don’t unlock me on<br />The forty-first night.<br /><br />----------------------------------------------------------------------<br />When mirrors are the only illusions that die when we close eyes..!</strong></span>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-55208013165554557882007-06-24T08:28:00.000-05:002007-06-27T23:39:06.934-05:00A Substituted Life<span style="color:#000000;">Can alternatives substitute notions in our lives? what about colours, people, relationships?<br /><br />Perhaps they can.<br /><br />Its a forced action, if taken immediately, and probably just happens by itself if given time.<br /><br />But the question is, do we want them?<br /><br />Humans like change, but not all the time. Sometimes, we do want to take a backseat and enjoy the neverending weather. Yes, it depends on what are we having, but i guess we all crave for stability, and having a good weather with a cup of tea in some dazed evenings is all we would care about, so that the rest of the world sleeps at the back of our minds.<br /><br />A monsoon breeze with some pitter patter once a while, when we sit in our balconies sipping the love of nature, and then the clouds leave their place to give way to the sun. So, do we like it now? ummm..perhaps yeah...till we get sunburnt...then perhaps we take away our teacup and newspaper as we go back to our shaded room to curse a bit on the weather.<br /><br />Did the change prompt the frowned face, or the sun?<br />(Probably the sun..it took away the wetness that we were enjoying.)<br /><br />What about the ones who touched our lives and left us? Do we crave their existence, or enjoy the change! Do we miss the best, or look for the better. No, nothing is being implied.<br />Perhaps, the issue is whether we had the best, or thought we had, or probably we already were waiting for the change.<br /><br />The ones who would have touched our hearts must be our choice, then do we substitute them while we nurture a void? Is that lack of presence horrible enough to push us to make another choice, or when we know that we cant have a better option leaves us makes us live with a hollowed existence till the time substitutes the void itself.<br /><br />We all try substituting being and relationships, concioiusly or unconciously. Having vegetables for food is probably not such a good subtitute when we love chicken, but perhaps its better than staying awake all night due to hunger. Yeah it certainly was a better comparison, but the easiest one.<br /><br />But a forced substitution? Is it worth the hunger? or would it make us crave even more vigoirously for what we lost? Yeah, it keeps our mind away, or atleast tries to distract us for sometime, but what if it doesnt. What if we crave for The One even more than we ever thought.<br /><br />Problem arises when we have no alternatives to substitute. What do we do then? Do we sulk in the emptiness or move on? Move on to another part of the being, that silences that craving, or atleasts turn it into whispers. Even the thought of letting go of our "only" options takes away our breaths. How would be life with those special people not around, and no other being take that place? Yeah, now probably we crave for a substitute when there is none in sight.<br /><br />Some fundamentals question our being, and the only substitute is to "move on".</span>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-29225744744926134982007-06-24T05:01:00.001-05:002007-06-27T23:39:06.933-05:00Paper Cuts<div align="justify">“if I could only listen”…sometimes such thoughts wag in our heads pushing us to feel guilty about what we missed in life…those rare moments where we could have prevented those only “donts”..but we just couldn’t..<br /><br />Whats and whys follow our reasoning long after the ship is lost..wow..a deadly chaos..<br />Those moments..which are followed by even more rare moments..where a tear drop, an apology, or a blushed heart are not enough to “undo” thoese single lines..like we do in “word files”..<br />Ahhh..its easy to achieve perfectness..and harder to keep it..<br /><br />How long does it take to grow a thread from a cotton seed..and a just a while to break it..<br />And all that we are left with, are hollow ponderings and a keyboard to type with..!</div>Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-35545106483277990402007-06-18T16:46:00.001-05:002007-06-27T23:39:06.934-05:00Scribbling...Creativity and sensibility don’t go together. At least not in my case. You flaunt one, and the other leaves, making one feel like a painter who has the canvas but not a brush to stroke with, or a paint bucket but a blankness to fill in.<br />“If only this lampshade could stop moving!”. The intermittent noise of the paper lampshade would always cut my thoughts exactly at the point where I would be on the verge of sorting out myself. But perhaps I had synchronized my brain impulses with the cling and creak of my surroundings, so that every dream would just continue till I can bear it, and then save the rest of it for the next night. Sorting out office files is relatively easier and much less absorbing and the best thing is: I get paid for wasting time.<br />So tonight I leave my randomness to solve the chaos of world waiting for me in the next room.<br />Don’t get me wrong. I am neither psychotic nor disoriented. I am both at the same time.<br />Professionally a therapist, hierarchally a social animal, and emotionally a virtualist. Well yeah! I know you have never heard this term. That’s right. I just coined it. A virtualist is someone who lives at the interface of what is felt or denied, what she materializes or imagines..someone who surrenders to impossible, while living with the possible.<br />Yeah that’s the shortest story of my life.<br />“Honey I am home!”, the voice that had been clinging to me since the last half decade resounded once more. “Mom!!! I am hungry, and dad is home too. Come out..I am waiting”. Don’t know why I never liked this voice, at this very hour of my silent evenings.<br />The spoon was so mechanically automated to go into my mouth, with a peaceful expression on my face, so that no one could hear the paper lamp inside me.<br /> Some live to stand and face those cutting intricacies of self, some live to nurture them.. I hereby wait to see if anyone exists, who can hold onto a single dread all this while. Someone who would stop the clock every hour, and reverse it, so that the time would never reach another while.<br />It’s a charm to live in the past, and dream about history. Walk today, and nourish your yesterday.Wow!Another creative thought!<br />Life has never been more smoother…the bright days, the dark nights, the happy family, the grateful smiles..all submerged into one lampshade that tries to hypnotize me whenever it moves. Ah but you are late my friend..too late..I already have been hypnotized by virtuality of my name. For some it was enticing, for some it was boredom intonated, but what still lingers in my goose bumps is the stranger who held my clock all this while.<br /><br />Indeed…creativity and sensibility do not go together :)Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-63908764347480591162007-06-18T16:45:00.000-05:002007-06-27T23:35:50.351-05:00[In A Vacuum]There is something stony<br />About the sun kissed sky…<br />It rains and shines, and<br />Withers down to bloom again..<br />I could never ask why?<br /><br />I am the yellowed remains<br />Of every wound…<br />The ones hiding under<br />Every brown scar..<br />Fuming to exhume, yet<br />Scared of a prick.<br /><br />I have a face,<br />And a full set of teeth,<br />Four limbs installed,<br />And still I crawl.<br /><br />[knock knock knock!<br />Good morning Madam,<br />We have been called<br />To build you a metal hall].Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-31999171707786749122007-06-13T02:52:00.000-05:002007-06-27T23:35:50.351-05:00The Show That Never Happened[I give you the Phantom of Opera tonight]<br />-------------------------------------------------<br />A glass of gin,<br />And the beaded face<br />Reminds me of<br />Pitter patter of falling lies,<br />Once it was called rain,<br />Today it sounds like a<br />Dieing fire.<br /><br />Sand and water<br />Share the same path,<br />Through my fingers they<br />Head for another drain...<br /><br />‘Wish I could wet my palms<br />With mud again...<br /><br />Shrieks that mocked some laughter,<br />Sighs that silenced a losing hope,<br />The show witnessed by a thousand deaf,<br />Still plays to strangle another hope.<br /><br />Every flash forms a name,<br />Every thunder sings a rhyme,<br />We all pass in the maze of storm,<br />The fated one is a black wine.<br />-------------------------------------------------<br /><em>There is a flower in every hand,</em><br /><em>And birds chirp of the dry leaves,</em><br /><em>I am flowing since the earth broke,</em><br /><em>Every drop has a seeker behind.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>Let it be history,</em><br /><em>Let it be divine,</em><br /><em>When Flora will meet theTethys of time.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>May it be shored, or drunk in eyes,</em><br /><em>I await the lily beyond tonight.</em><br />-------------------------------------------------<br />[The curtain falls]Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9191162290394552942.post-78947932193872076882007-06-13T02:49:00.000-05:002007-06-27T23:35:50.351-05:00My Paper HutI am toiling against the wind<br />Of crooked chins and open arms.<br />Tell me another way...<br /><br />Tell me what it takes to be the<br />Whale in a pond of seasons,<br />And lust of fruits...<br /><br />My hiding is wet in the<br />Monsoon breeze,<br />But the metal hut shrieks in<br />The calmness of my threaded dreams...<br /><br />O Mommy I want to go home,<br />Where barbies talked of mirrors<br />And colors,<br />And words were all the same to me...<br /><br />I am walking towards...<br />I am running behind...<br /><br />One drop...<br />Just one...<br />In this desert night.Munazzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04937692533649707032noreply@blogger.com0