Posted in Uncategorized

RED

Read the red…

Saba Niaz siddique

RED and just RED

sounds like an extremist

But it’s not

Adds mirth to your life

can solace death

Shows your strength

Brightens the valour of a knight

Reflects in innocence

Adorns the soft cheeks with grace

Flourishes in revolution

Strengthens your struggle

It makes you feel alive

Cuts the morbid flesh away

Embellishes the sword of a warrior

Don’t compare it with a gory dagger

It is the honour of a martyr

And serves him the goblet of valor

Appears at dawn

Incites the beginning of life

Flows in veins

Embraces your heart

And fills it with love every time

Makes the soft petals more alluring

Shines in the little wings of butterflies

When they kiss them while dancing

Beautifies your optimism

Saves you from the cave of pessimism

It’s only love

It’s just beauty

It is what your heart is

RED and just RED!

View original post

Posted in Poetry

One Among Them

When words strangle your soul
The restlessness recrudesces on the forehead
I become lost somewhere deep in me
As if I have been pushed from the ship to drown in the sea
I want to see the bottom
where the words are scratching my counscious

The world will allure you to it’s lies
But only here we can also find the truth
Every age has been a test for humanity
Why then we should curse our times?
My words take different shapes inside
Sometimes forms questions and sometimes answers
But what I find is that they are relative
Changes their size and weight with the emotions

Only His words are absolute, the Lord of all ages
We only see a drop of life in His infinite ocean of creations
He guides whom He wills
I pray for myself to be one among them



Posted in Poetry

MEMORIES

Worn out after a long weary day
I sat on a big old chair facing the west
Looking towards the beautiful twilight
and the gloomy sun of the peaceful evening
about to set behind the mighty mountains

Took a deep sigh while closing the eyes
Everything appeared still and silent
Except for the remains of chirping
Of birds, while going back to their nests
Meanwhile, I heard some little voices
Small footsteps and a lot of giggles
Twilight started fading in my mind
Something familiar with my life started to appear like a dream


“A little boy was running here and there
Smiling and playing without any care
He was Singing his own songs while catching butterflies
His mother was sneaking through the curtains
With a lot of glee and hidden smiles

He was busy in his own world of imagination
With no boundaries for love and freedom
His mother came out to catch him
Running behind with a spoon, full of food
He ran with a surprising smile to escape the love
She hid herself behind the tree
And caught him with a warm hug
Kissed his red cheek and put the spoon in his mouth
Took him inside the lovely house
Closed the door and also my dream”


Soon those voices began to fade
Last light of the sun hit my eyes
I heard someone calling from the widow
Son, get up as AZAN is being called
Wash for the prayer

I saw my mother behind the same curtains
My memories brought a tear into the eyes
I again took a deep sigh

 I saw around everything changed
But what remains unchanged was the
The love of my mother
And the time of prayer

Posted in Poetry

Imprisioned …# Kashmir

Even if I choose to remain quiet
My emotions ignites the voice within
I can’t help my hands to rest
They want to write the plight of my soul
Now, I don’t introduce my name to the people
I simply say them from where I belong
And I am alive by the grace of God


My conscious have become insomniac
It keeps rattling with the stories of my valley
I know, Kashmir is burning
I keep searching ashes in my dreams
But I find soil drenched in tears
My soul curses these tyrants and their tyranny
I break when I imagine a mother
Who tells her son to wake up from the sleep of death
she knows, tomorrow there would no sun for her son
Because these tyrants have slaughtered him to death


Stories of Autumn have faded deep in winter
Now we see seasons changing in a day
Either bloody or dry
Imprisioned inside the bricks of our own
Afraid to look out of the window
Because weak glass pans can’t save you
Only God can listen
To the imprisioned hearts inside imprisioned homes

Posted in Poetry

A HOPE… #Kashmir

A hope
that beautiful days await
At every evening, I would be in the garden
looking at the setting sun
listening to the call for prayer
waiting to bow down with the righteous ones

the war would be over
violence would end
no more homes would be raised down
no more young blood would flow
freedom would be ours
harmony would prevail
paper boats from little hands
would sail without fear
no more tears
no more screams
no more pain

A mother would not be afraid
for her son
not to return back
days would be peaceful
nights soulful
coffins would remain resting

sounds of laughter
feeling of togetherness
warmth of love
would return
rule of law
without flaw
would hold

smiles on lips would be glowing
winds would be blowing
Singing the freedom songs of martyrs
paradise would return
to the long-forgotten valley
with the mercy of Allah

they can kill me
but not my hope

Posted in Quotes

Quote

Generally people of the world don’t remember what you did for them. So, you also forget what did for them and keep pleasing your Lord, the most high.