Wednesday 28 September 2016

Mud houses

Mud Houses

the houses
in my paradise
are rusty, muddy,
broken and hurt..

our houses have seen
years of turmoil
they are bloodied,
exploited by time..

i reminisce my hometown,
when i see the glimpses
of merry houses on hills,
and hustling markets around..

i remember our naivety
humility,
our poverty and pain..

i feel the mothers'
wounded hearts,
shrouded dead, graves
and erroded lives..

in all this,
i recall the smell
of my soil,
its marks my identity,
my soul
and my ultimate refuge!

Tanzila

Sunday 4 September 2016

It takes..

it takes..

it takes a lonely heart,
to romance loss,
to envy failure,
to want exclusion,
to hope solitude,
to despise acceptance
and periodic gestures of love!

it takes a broken heart,
to memorize past,
to surpass stereotype,
to challenge the normal,
to look beyond the regular,
to stay cynical!

it takes a brave heart,
to survive,
despite every day,
every circumstance,
weighing you down!
it takes a miracle,
to live through nights,
of reclusion and pain.
reminiscing the dead,
the gone and the mysterious!

to me, it takes a few words,
to express,
and expire the same time,
with the same intensity,
the feelings of regret!

Tanzila