Sunday, November 21, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Pot of flame
I am your personal pot of flame
And forever i'll remain...
My existence depends on you,
as you are my oxygen.
You sustain, while I devour...
In my light,
I only see your face,
My light that pledges,
To ever love you,
To ever cherish you...
This pot of flame enlightens us both,
I burn to be yours,
So that you can,
Feel my sincerity,
my devotion,
my love,
and the pain which I endure to be yours...
I am your personal pot of flame,
but a flame which is fragile,
Which falters; with each breath,
Iridescent; with each doubt,
Declines, when others come near it...
I am your personal pot of flame,
My existence indeed depends only on you,
as you are my oxygen.
And you sustain, while I devour...
Na shaan hai sikandari,
Na zaat hai kalandari,
Bus mayray mehboob mayri pehchaan hai,
ik jaltay diyaa si,
jo hota hai raiza raiza sirf tayri aarzoo mai...
© Ubaid Ullah Ahmed
Friday, November 19, 2010
My name on her arms
She wrote my name on her arms...
Not by knife
Not by blade
But pouring the color of hennah all the way...
To write my name for her was a way,
She understands me, was all she wanted to say...
To say that
As she wanders of into the distance
She expects me to always find her.
To write my name on her amrs,
Is for me to know that she is fragile
That one day she'll fall, and if she does
She expects me to heal her aching wounds...
To write my name on her arms,
A way to tell, that she wants me there.
For me to know that I should hold her closely,
To touch her innocent soul with my warm heart...
To write my name on her arms,
Is a signal for me to gaze into her deep eyes
And say the three words
That will incapuslate her all
As her touch melds into my embrace
Giving me the respect and love
To write my name on her heart
Forever, and ever and ever...
© Ubaid Ullah Ahmed
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
The Art of Dying
Qabar banti hai
Aur Maqbaray bhi
Farq kya hai mitne aur mitanay main?
dying is an intricately
pieced together work of art.
it takes an artist to die.
There is the slowing stutter of a heart
A faint echo of a life once lived
A reminder of what we miss the most
Death is indeed an art itself...
© Ubaid Ullah Ahmed & Purple
