Wake up, Bloody Philosopher

You! Yes, you, who have been sleeping

With eyes half closed and mind shut down.

They need you today. Wake up, you fool.

The world you knew is weeping. It is bleeding.

And already it has given up on life. And doom will follow.

For man eats man here now; our haven, our heaven - turned into hell!

The mighty has turned evil. The evil seems immortal.

Happy souls are now in the realm of melancholy.

Sad souls; dead.

The believers buried in deep sand. All of them.

Light is fading.

Wake up, you Poet! Wake up, fool.

Write down your golden advice into verses.

They need to believe, they need to heal.

Do not doze off or drift away in

The sweet world of Dreams.

Wake up from slumber. Ponder and philosophise.

The time is running out. O, but hurry...

Alas! For thee slumber held in it magic.

But the time is gone now, so wake up

You, Murderer. You, Treacheous Thief.

And see, see what power it holds

Time. And see how utterly remorseful

Your sleep is. See what you have done.

The Bell was knelling out loud but time passed by.

The Wait

By Tuba Hassan

Thunder, storms, rains came

Yes they came, it is true

All doors are locked

Not even windows to go through

Towers, chambers, and in dungeons

I grew

But, kept on waiting

That is waiting for you.

Would you believe it, my rose?

Neither I, nor you

Are strong enough to handle this crew

Sadness appeared

No one to look up to

Body all cold

Lips so blue!

Trying to help

Help! They say

Why don’t they leave us alone?

And together we stay

Well this had had to happen, my love

How could I let anyone take your place

When I am all yours

Only yours by birth

Like the light is well known from the sun

Likewise, bullet is for the gun

The perfect match!

And meant to be together

If not in this world

Then surely done in the other.

Reminiscence

By Tarbia Hamid

Will you remember?

The dreams we had,

So sparkling bright

Molded to perfection?

Those little diamonds,

That now lie within the

Grasp of our hands;

Our little achievements?

Will you remember?

The time that passed

Like rushing water,

And those crushing waves-

Those little hindrances?

That dwell no more

But behind our backs-

Our conquered feats?

Will you remember?

The joy of new toys?

The broken old tree house,

That now lies deserted?

The naïve old playmates,

That now lie in the past-

Our second childhood?

Will you remember?

The mere felicity that was,

The hearty laughter and tears

The dewdrops of emotions?

The moments of ecstasy,

Now preserved in smiles?

That dwell no longer

Within our consciousness;

Those gems of memories?

Will you remember?

That once upon a time

Journey that we had?

The smiles we all smiled,

The hurt we all fought,

The past we all made?

Will you remember...?

“Strike the Beat Harder”

In a few days time we’ll be a year older. Freedom, I believe, is something we’ve always taken for granted; probably because we were not among those who experienced the labour pangs when this country was being born. We were born into freedom. It was given to us without ever asking or desiring for it...

All these thoughts naturally take me to Iqbal’s poetry, which has always helped me discover the idea of what a man ought to be, and how should freedom be valued. Iqbal is one poet who has the ability to transport us into the past that we did not live in. And yet it is that past which should have defined us - unfortunately it does not do so!

-NA

asar kuchh khuaab ka ghuncho~ me~ baaqi he to ae bulbul!

“nava ra talx-tar mi zan cho zauq-e naghma kamyaabi”

(Muhammad Iqbal, ‘tul’u e Islam’, Baang-e dara)

Translation:

If some slumber is lurking still in the flower buds

“Strike the beat harder if the taste for music is lacking”

- Dr M.A.K Khalil

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