Posted in Poetry

A Smile

My smile is just an unspoken words of pain
I touched the soil and felt no love of rain
I wanted to cry out my tears to feel that touch
But what could you expect from this harsh desert?

Yes! My smile is just an unspoken words of pain
My laugh is squalling of my heart
I succeed by remaining unrecognisable
What have I became inside

A story of millions of tears
Keeps flowing like a Brooke of my scenery
I blur the pain but lost I stand
In search of peace and happiness

My unspoken words of pain have become a smile
But deep I cry
I have become a tale of my valley
Not heard anywhere in the cities

Posted in Poetry

Let me live with these Sighs

Land of the faces devoid of emotions
A common pain, a common grief
Where is the freedom? Where is the justice?
There is tyranny, there are graves

I want to run away far in the mountains
Where snow never vanish, where there is cold
I want to freeze my feelings, freeze my emotions
Freeze my tears, to let them live for ages

O Kashmir! O beautiful!
Your rivers are like hair lock on a beautiful face
Poets wrote you for ages like a dream
But today you scream and the cities are silent

Let me live far away on these mountain
You look beautiful to my eyes
Let me live with these sighs!
Let me live with these sighs!

Posted in Poetry

Grave of Graves

A valley, holocaust of souls
Inferno of sore stories
Grave of graves! Grave of graves
With some inscribed, and other lay unidentified

Landlocked and barricaded ways
Where to go? No one knows
Now, It is just a Valley
Losing the unsung words in this deadly silence

Love wants to escape through the crevices in mountains
How those hearts could hold?
When the smoke in the streets burned the tissues
Our faces are now just characters victimized by pretension

I am a Kashmiri, I am Kashmir
Never ask me anything of my well-being
I don’t want my existence to be humiliated, because
When we suffered and you stood silent

Posted in Poetry

Wayfarer

What more a wayfarer can seek?
His destionation is where he keeps going
His days are limited, his nights too
Some days he gets pleasure, but it has to leave
Some days he gets it hard, but it has to leave
No burden remains except the burden of deeds
He knows where he has to go
He knows he will reach there
It will be heavy on his soul
Only if he could understand
He is only a wayfarer
His day are limited, his nights too

Last drive of the soul is to the Lord
Who gives, Who takes
Who makes, Who destroys
Unto Him every journey ends
Who has destined for everyone a course
If you read these words, there were destined too
For you are a wayfarer and World is not the actual place to live

Posted in Poetry

Mother of Martyred Blood

It is true! That…
Every sight of my eyes kiss that valley
But Known to me is that, there are mothers of martyred sons
I just heard the story of one
My heart and soul began to cry
O mother, of my lost unknown friend and brother!
No written words could do justice to your heart
No pages of history will take your pain into account
Your injured soul has blood, oozing but unseen by blind eyes
As if the world has turned into a mere lie
I read the words of one mother, I shivered as they read


Your pain is blowing with the cold winds trapped in this valley
God will make them fall like a lightening on the wicked ones
Your tears will fall like stones over them
What they afflicted you with?
A merciless separation
Will render them devoid of mercy in this world
The earth and sky is crying by your side
But why this world still lay deaf and dumb?
Has the heart of people living in love of world died?
Has the beats gone too far to only remain to mimic the ugly songs?
You are the mother of Wamiq Farooq
Zahid Farooq, Inayath Khan, Osaib, Tufail Ahmad………..
You are the mother of the martyred blood
You are the mother of the tears of the Valley, Kashmir
And one of yours line read and I couldn’t stop crying