Every metaphor I bleed ;
It will curse your existence
Till the Jehlum will flow with
Your blood!
We will celebrate our victory
When our graveyardswill be
Filled with the verses of Quran
On our tombstones!

-

The breezes of joy
whirling on the shores of beautiful
summer,
bid farewell
to the month of love.

Holy eid is returning,
To bestown the gifts of resurrection, to people -
who are broken and frozen
beneath the cold icicles of fate.

But, Lo!
In the ambiance of Kashmir,
The sunlight of happiness is faded.
Amidst the dark clouds of melancholy.
Here,
This eid is celebrated
beneath the martyrs tablecloth.
The children are shrouded in shrouds of helplessness.
Women wrapped in the shimmering garb of emptiness.
The coffin of nostalgia
are decking the garden of Martyrs ordinary home,
homes adorned by the shimmering garlands of pain.

Ah!
there are frezy crowd of people,
greeting to each other as --
one is wrapping its warm of solace
to balm the irreparable wounds of loss.
They're preparing themselves --
for a new dawn of funeral.
for a new dawn of grief.
for a new dawn of helplessness.
This day is happiest,
as families celebrate Eid
holding feast of Grief.

Every family here,
has its variety of pain.

-

Write down!
My country is ripping apart
Between the spaces of oppression
Where breathing is an act of resistance,
Remember 1990 you visit our homes
Crushed our feeding bottles under long Jack boots and spilled our blood on mattress that you turned into ashes!
Our memories are engraved in the apple trees , and those small feeble cucumber plants when you used to barge into our backyards and kill those peaceful innocent nights
With those terrified filthy voices,
We are weaving the symbols of freedom
Out of your pellets on your faces
And we polish the colour of our blood with your bullets
Our rooms smell the scent of martyrdom
Our flesh crave for freedom,
Your pepper gas reminds of freedom
We're now memories !
Haunting in your cantonments

-

I'm a country without a nation,
A tribe without a leader ,
A home without tablecloth
An Eid without the sighting
Of crescent,
An evening without sunset,
A citizen leaving a life in exile
In longing of passport that would
Travel me across the city of freedom,
I'm mourning death without
Coffin,
I'm living life between the
eternities of ink
that is spilled on
the walls of innocence,
I'm a country without people!

Ruhail

-

On the beautiful shores of winter
I often think of your memories
They are just like a
a passport of remembrance
Sailing the boat of love across the
Snowflakes of cold breeze,
I'm slowly freezing between the
Vapours of your breathes
Only to loose myself in its smell ,
After all you're just a moon
When you rise late,
I'm suffocating myself inside
The darkness of night,
I keep weaving those sweaters
Of love that you could
Wear ,when the icicles of Longing
Would break inside your eyes,
Hmmm-i would wail until the
Winds of summer flutter
Across the islands of my soul,
I would reserve the place of serenity
Inside my eyes so that you could
Feel the waves touching
Your sores,
I could be Star of your night
Only to melt myself in
Your cloudy moods,
I would be like a butterfly
In your soul amidst storm
Carrying love on my wings,
I could be a snowman to freeze Myself in your beauty.

-

We discover the essence of things,
Once they are gone!

-

That grinds billions of thoughts having a touch of divergence in boundaries but carries a power to decipher every complex phenomena into the the subtlety.

-

When the night befalls
on your coffin ,
I melt myself to be a
Star inside your shroud .

-

"Forever I shall be a stranger to myself ".

Albert Camus .

-

Someday I could freeze
Between the metaphors
Of my poems to be a symbol
Of your love.

-