POETS’ CORNER

Poems forever

Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953

Antidote

By Ali Asghar Ghani

Who is she to me? They asked

Everything, in particular

the

antidote for my depression

Who is she to me? They asked

Everything, in particular

The antidote for my depression

A trip down memory lane

By Azka Yamin

Let’s, take a trip down,

Memory lane,

A forgotten five rupee note,

Signed by an aged man,

From way back,

Burns my hand; Sear my soul,

Reminds me of the merry days passed,

When laughter echoed in those halls,

Now, shrouded in grief and wails,

When he told us tales, of year’s bygone,

Prophets, Sufis and saints,

Of giving to the needy without complaints,

Now, we narrate anecdotes,

Of your virtues and teachings,

Those endless hours of preaching,

That we took for granted,

Now, we stand empty-handed, cursing our fate,

Wishing we cherished the “Llttle” things you granted,

Those ‘miswaks’ covered in dust,

Those books never read,

Now, all that’s left are memories and wisdom,

That I vow to never forget.

(In the memory of my late grandfather)

Sometimes I wish!

By Azka Yamin

Sometimes I wish!

For silence

From these whispers

In my head

For freedom

From this cage

Of turbulent thoughts and mindless rage

For a reprieve

From this world

Full if lies and deceit

For an end

From this greed

That had dazzled my creed

For a hero

To dismantle this violence and hate

An epidemic; to which all subjugate.

For eternity

With someone benignant

In this world full of sycophants

But then I remember

That wishes do not change reality

That they are just an illusion

Of what could never be

Hallucinations of a balmy psyche

Yearning for peace and oblivion.

Hope

By Hassin ur Rehman

When the dark hits the day,

It becomes dominant all the way.

The day squeezes its surroundings,

Because the dark captures the day’s findings.

Everything stops to sing,

As the darkness spreads its wings.

Dullness takes the place of brightness,

But it is only for the true freshness.

Who knows the benefits of darkness?

As it gives rest to the shininess.