#review
remember the last line you said to me
remember the last date we meet
remember the last story we read
remember the last seen we live of each others side
everything was the worst
remember the last line you said to me
remember the last date we meet
remember the last story we read
remember the last seen we live of each others side
everything was the worst
The white moon is weak
Depending on who it meets
The sun or the coward;
It smiles or it frowns
#AhmadMusa #poem #review
Depending on who it meets
The sun or the coward;
It smiles or it frowns
#AhmadMusa #poem #review
O my child, dont you fear,
You will become a greatest sire.
Don't cry, don't you dare,
World is deaf they don't hear.
Hungry beasts will snatch your steak,
Be strong, world's not for weak.
Humans are fake, truth is money,
Mug it well, mug it honey.
Snakes and wolfs and jackals here,
Be careful, predators everywhere.
Hereafter don't show your pain,
Nothing will you ever gain.
Never you shall exceed trust,
Seldom then you'll get hurt.
Even if it's hard to survive.
Take your chances and always strive.
Walk forward, towards the light.
Your future will be bright.
Endeavour and be a warrior.
Cause, World hoping for a saviour.
Show them light, show them path.
Guard them from those vultures wrath.
#Adi
#review
#poem
You will become a greatest sire.
Don't cry, don't you dare,
World is deaf they don't hear.
Hungry beasts will snatch your steak,
Be strong, world's not for weak.
Humans are fake, truth is money,
Mug it well, mug it honey.
Snakes and wolfs and jackals here,
Be careful, predators everywhere.
Hereafter don't show your pain,
Nothing will you ever gain.
Never you shall exceed trust,
Seldom then you'll get hurt.
Even if it's hard to survive.
Take your chances and always strive.
Walk forward, towards the light.
Your future will be bright.
Endeavour and be a warrior.
Cause, World hoping for a saviour.
Show them light, show them path.
Guard them from those vultures wrath.
#Adi
#review
#poem
👍1
Today, while I was cleaning every corner of my house with an unused cloth, a thought came in my mind.
"Suppose I would do this in an orphanage, or some NGO, and upload a photo of it. I’ll be in the good books of everyone. People will like me."
The thought didn’t last though. But it was there. Sweeping just four rooms of my house, for one day, and it was there.
Whatever things we do, we do it for recognition or money.
If you don’t believe me, take a few examples from your life. From mine, I’ll point out a few. Writing this post: recognition. Education: money. Buying fancy clothes: recognition. Learning how to invest: money.
These are just clear examples. Nothing brainstorming here. Dive in a little deeper, and you’ll know that everything is related to these two. Recognition and money. Recognition from girls counts, too. Okay?
Now, look at your mother.
Look at the nameplate of your house. Is there her original surname on it? Or even her name? No? Recognition— cross.
Is she a housewife who works at least twelve to fourteen hours a day? Yes? Does she make money out of it? No? Money— cross.
—
Whenever I come across a term called woman, I cross it down. I replace it with mother. And when I glance at this word now, I see everything.
I see the whole goddamn world in it.
Because why not? She’s the one who doesn’t work for recognition or money, she works for the love she has for me and my family. Nothing else.
As a closure, there’s a Hindi excerpt that’s very close to my heart. I’d like to share this with you.
"Akhsar dekha hai maine
Purush kavi hota hai
Daarshnik hota hai
Filmkaar hota hai
Chitrakaar hota hai
Bahut bechain hai kuch rachne ke liye
Kyunki wo kabhi jeevan nhi rach sakta
Kyuki wo kabhi maa nahi bann sakta."
Translation:
I have seen it too often,
A man is a poet,
A philosopher,
A director,
A painter,
He’s very restless to create something,
As he can’t create a life.
Because he can never become a mother.
#review #Saviour #random
"Suppose I would do this in an orphanage, or some NGO, and upload a photo of it. I’ll be in the good books of everyone. People will like me."
The thought didn’t last though. But it was there. Sweeping just four rooms of my house, for one day, and it was there.
Whatever things we do, we do it for recognition or money.
If you don’t believe me, take a few examples from your life. From mine, I’ll point out a few. Writing this post: recognition. Education: money. Buying fancy clothes: recognition. Learning how to invest: money.
These are just clear examples. Nothing brainstorming here. Dive in a little deeper, and you’ll know that everything is related to these two. Recognition and money. Recognition from girls counts, too. Okay?
Now, look at your mother.
Look at the nameplate of your house. Is there her original surname on it? Or even her name? No? Recognition— cross.
Is she a housewife who works at least twelve to fourteen hours a day? Yes? Does she make money out of it? No? Money— cross.
—
Whenever I come across a term called woman, I cross it down. I replace it with mother. And when I glance at this word now, I see everything.
I see the whole goddamn world in it.
Because why not? She’s the one who doesn’t work for recognition or money, she works for the love she has for me and my family. Nothing else.
As a closure, there’s a Hindi excerpt that’s very close to my heart. I’d like to share this with you.
"Akhsar dekha hai maine
Purush kavi hota hai
Daarshnik hota hai
Filmkaar hota hai
Chitrakaar hota hai
Bahut bechain hai kuch rachne ke liye
Kyunki wo kabhi jeevan nhi rach sakta
Kyuki wo kabhi maa nahi bann sakta."
Translation:
I have seen it too often,
A man is a poet,
A philosopher,
A director,
A painter,
He’s very restless to create something,
As he can’t create a life.
Because he can never become a mother.
#review #Saviour #random
Why's a man who?
Why's a beast what?
What does he has?
What does it lack?
Men brag of brain
Beasts also think
Why's he a man?
Why's it a beast?
He has two scales
It has just one
Mood and morals
It lives on mood
#review #poem #AhmadMusa
Why's a beast what?
What does he has?
What does it lack?
Men brag of brain
Beasts also think
Why's he a man?
Why's it a beast?
He has two scales
It has just one
Mood and morals
It lives on mood
#review #poem #AhmadMusa
#shortstory #review #aqbilal
He wrote a piece. Read it, and after some thought, deleted it. Suddenly, he wrote it again, rephrasing some sentences and changing the tone, better than the previous one. He copied the text to a social media website and saved it as a draft. Before he published, he made some changes here and there, making it poetic and beautiful.
"You are a genius, man", somebody commented. "It seems the words are at your service, brother", the other one wrote. He sighed and kept the phone on side table. A notification popped up,
"You write too good, I'd love to talk to you".
"N-o- y-o-u-u-u wo-wo-won't", he thought aloud, stuttering as usual.
-A.Q.Bilal
He wrote a piece. Read it, and after some thought, deleted it. Suddenly, he wrote it again, rephrasing some sentences and changing the tone, better than the previous one. He copied the text to a social media website and saved it as a draft. Before he published, he made some changes here and there, making it poetic and beautiful.
"You are a genius, man", somebody commented. "It seems the words are at your service, brother", the other one wrote. He sighed and kept the phone on side table. A notification popped up,
"You write too good, I'd love to talk to you".
"N-o- y-o-u-u-u wo-wo-won't", he thought aloud, stuttering as usual.
-A.Q.Bilal
#review #aqbilal
|Writing And the Life|
Writing has a life of its own, with soft and hard breaks. You take a soft break, and the idea is suspended in readers mind: connecting it to the next one. The light breaks add beauty, and the hard one makes it clear. The clarity is the heartbeat of the writing. Pauses, after a limit, make the writing clumsy and untidy. Ideas with a lot of soft breaks are difficult to comprehend. The brain can’t bear suspension more than its limit. Both the breaks are wheels to advance a drive but the hard one makes it clear. And clarity is what you need. Take a break, a long one.
-A.Q.Bilal
|Writing And the Life|
Writing has a life of its own, with soft and hard breaks. You take a soft break, and the idea is suspended in readers mind: connecting it to the next one. The light breaks add beauty, and the hard one makes it clear. The clarity is the heartbeat of the writing. Pauses, after a limit, make the writing clumsy and untidy. Ideas with a lot of soft breaks are difficult to comprehend. The brain can’t bear suspension more than its limit. Both the breaks are wheels to advance a drive but the hard one makes it clear. And clarity is what you need. Take a break, a long one.
-A.Q.Bilal
#review
Your rhymes in your poetry are so complex
I like how deep and rich this character is
This plot twist is amazing 👌
Well done 👏👏
Your rhymes in your poetry are so complex
I like how deep and rich this character is
This plot twist is amazing 👌
Well done 👏👏
| A Song Of Sorrow |
My soul is singing like a bird
A song of sorrow I once heard
A nightingale perform one day
When Lady Love had flown away
His was a sad and sorry plight
A pretty poor pathetic sight
He seemed ~ as such, resembled me!
Since I myself know misery
For loss of Love's a tragic thing
As troubadours would often sing
In pain-filled, medieval times
They’d pluck their lyres, recite their rhymes
Composed laments of long-lost love
They penned, as pleas, to God above
For healing of their heart and mind
(They saw in God, the caring kind)
Their verse performed would touch and tear
Of broken hearts the wounds lay bare
Their lyrics moved the king and queen,
Who’d sat before like stone, serene
And peasants wept and so did lords
The soldiers’ tears would wet their swords
While priests would pine and chant and pray
As men possessed ~ like me today!
Whose soul is singing like a bird
A song of sorrow I once heard
A nightingale perform one day
When Lady Love had flown away
#review #poetry #Saviour
My soul is singing like a bird
A song of sorrow I once heard
A nightingale perform one day
When Lady Love had flown away
His was a sad and sorry plight
A pretty poor pathetic sight
He seemed ~ as such, resembled me!
Since I myself know misery
For loss of Love's a tragic thing
As troubadours would often sing
In pain-filled, medieval times
They’d pluck their lyres, recite their rhymes
Composed laments of long-lost love
They penned, as pleas, to God above
For healing of their heart and mind
(They saw in God, the caring kind)
Their verse performed would touch and tear
Of broken hearts the wounds lay bare
Their lyrics moved the king and queen,
Who’d sat before like stone, serene
And peasants wept and so did lords
The soldiers’ tears would wet their swords
While priests would pine and chant and pray
As men possessed ~ like me today!
Whose soul is singing like a bird
A song of sorrow I once heard
A nightingale perform one day
When Lady Love had flown away
#review #poetry #Saviour
#review #poem #aqbilal
Few years back I wrote this poem.
|Terror|
Definition of terror is a bit confusing!
See who is being accused and who is accusing!
Killings by 'The Power' is war on terror
Defence by the victim is almost terror.
Oh A White did a shootout?
He is a psycho or a sadist!
Oh! The black has a gun
Is he a terrorist?
Governing its people can be a sin.
If you are ignoring what 'The Power' is saying.
You may be a good king but you will be dethroned and accused.
For looting the people, allowing 'them' to loot.
Terror can be defined with the color .
The saffron is innocent but the green is with the terror.
Grabbing the lands is establishment of peace.
Defending their land can invite decease.
Definition of terror can be manipulated.
Homicide by 'The power' is always accepted.
A.Q.Bilal
Few years back I wrote this poem.
|Terror|
Definition of terror is a bit confusing!
See who is being accused and who is accusing!
Killings by 'The Power' is war on terror
Defence by the victim is almost terror.
Oh A White did a shootout?
He is a psycho or a sadist!
Oh! The black has a gun
Is he a terrorist?
Governing its people can be a sin.
If you are ignoring what 'The Power' is saying.
You may be a good king but you will be dethroned and accused.
For looting the people, allowing 'them' to loot.
Terror can be defined with the color .
The saffron is innocent but the green is with the terror.
Grabbing the lands is establishment of peace.
Defending their land can invite decease.
Definition of terror can be manipulated.
Homicide by 'The power' is always accepted.
A.Q.Bilal
I see walls in my freedom
Greasy and cryptic daunting walls
They know me, like a candlestick in my hand which forbids to lit up
I feel isolated and beneath me and beyond me,
does no world exist, nothing breathes.
I sit and write dimensions of those walls,
I calculate the horizons, the equators
and the pages seemed insignificant to fill all the numbers.
A man yells, 'they are building a distinct wall next to this'
They all cry their eyes out the whole day.
A man furiously ran and hit his head to the wall
Until he fell,
Choking with blood, murmuring words
I looked at him as he slowly falls asleep.
A middle-aged couple
Sitting and leaning onto the wall
Holding each other’s hand
And marking days with a stone on the greasy wall.
Two kids hugging the wall, standing on toes,
Ssshhh! Their ears on the side of the wall,
Listening to whispering and humming from the ‘other side’.
The old men and women seemed content, clean and too cold
They chant and fall asleep themselves, they wake up and pretend they slept soundly.
A man of my grandfather’s age tells me
he was life-sentenced here when he was of my age.
Each breath is borrowed and with each heartbeat, his debts are increasing.
I see a small girl painting, ‘mountains are white or green?
Are they greasy and dark like the walls?’ she asks me
I tell her 'no they are no like these walls; I have heard they are beautiful'
'so what color do I fill in them?' she asks me
I say 'keep them empty, fill them when you see them someday'.© Vaibhav
#poem #review
Greasy and cryptic daunting walls
They know me, like a candlestick in my hand which forbids to lit up
I feel isolated and beneath me and beyond me,
does no world exist, nothing breathes.
I sit and write dimensions of those walls,
I calculate the horizons, the equators
and the pages seemed insignificant to fill all the numbers.
A man yells, 'they are building a distinct wall next to this'
They all cry their eyes out the whole day.
A man furiously ran and hit his head to the wall
Until he fell,
Choking with blood, murmuring words
I looked at him as he slowly falls asleep.
A middle-aged couple
Sitting and leaning onto the wall
Holding each other’s hand
And marking days with a stone on the greasy wall.
Two kids hugging the wall, standing on toes,
Ssshhh! Their ears on the side of the wall,
Listening to whispering and humming from the ‘other side’.
The old men and women seemed content, clean and too cold
They chant and fall asleep themselves, they wake up and pretend they slept soundly.
A man of my grandfather’s age tells me
he was life-sentenced here when he was of my age.
Each breath is borrowed and with each heartbeat, his debts are increasing.
I see a small girl painting, ‘mountains are white or green?
Are they greasy and dark like the walls?’ she asks me
I tell her 'no they are no like these walls; I have heard they are beautiful'
'so what color do I fill in them?' she asks me
I say 'keep them empty, fill them when you see them someday'.© Vaibhav
#poem #review
Unmeddingly,
the nights are brighter than they seem...🔅
And days are darker than they feel...⚫️
#review #shriti #microtale
the nights are brighter than they seem...🔅
And days are darker than they feel...⚫️
#review #shriti #microtale
#poem #review #ayush
You may ever thought how you look.
but I can't describe you in a book
You are that beautiful girl
Whose dazzling eyes shine like a pearl
You are the first drop of the rain
And gives that fragrance where are smells are
vain
You are the beautiful bird which sings
And fly high through wings
You have such melodious voice
Resisting my ears from listening I have no
choice.
You may ever thought how u look
but I can't describe you in a book.
Thanks :)
You may ever thought how you look.
but I can't describe you in a book
You are that beautiful girl
Whose dazzling eyes shine like a pearl
You are the first drop of the rain
And gives that fragrance where are smells are
vain
You are the beautiful bird which sings
And fly high through wings
You have such melodious voice
Resisting my ears from listening I have no
choice.
You may ever thought how u look
but I can't describe you in a book.
Thanks :)
Farmers with their hoes
Are not confused
When they face their farms.
Mothers with their brooms
Do not get puzzled
When they face their rooms.
But we, with our joints
Are often at loss
When we face our worlds.
They both have learned
From those who'd past:
What is good and what is not.
From people who had known
What is a farm and
What is a room
But those who speak on ours
Have not seen
All its sides
And those who have,
Are not willing
To speak again.
#AhmadMusa #poem #review
Are not confused
When they face their farms.
Mothers with their brooms
Do not get puzzled
When they face their rooms.
But we, with our joints
Are often at loss
When we face our worlds.
They both have learned
From those who'd past:
What is good and what is not.
From people who had known
What is a farm and
What is a room
But those who speak on ours
Have not seen
All its sides
And those who have,
Are not willing
To speak again.
#AhmadMusa #poem #review
Pessimist and Optimist
How different can our points be when they all belong to same entity ? Well to answer this here is a story -
The house was all in hustle as it was the twins birthday , My kids they were twins but opposite like reflections of mirrors .
One was north other was south , One great optimist other gloomy and pessimist .
It was their birthady so I decided to point the diffrence I locked them up in seprate rooms one with full of toys left with pessimist and other with horse manure my little boy optimist .
After a while I went into my gloomy kids room to my wonder he was crying when I asked he said sobbing ,"Oh dad what do I do now ? These toys ought to get discharge soon how will I get batteries and my friends will be jealous of me know , How will I show them these all they will break them "
When I went to my optimistic kid
"He was smiling looking at manure "
Boy why are you smiling I asked ."There must be a pony out there !" he said grinning
#review #shortstory #shashwat
How different can our points be when they all belong to same entity ? Well to answer this here is a story -
The house was all in hustle as it was the twins birthday , My kids they were twins but opposite like reflections of mirrors .
One was north other was south , One great optimist other gloomy and pessimist .
It was their birthady so I decided to point the diffrence I locked them up in seprate rooms one with full of toys left with pessimist and other with horse manure my little boy optimist .
After a while I went into my gloomy kids room to my wonder he was crying when I asked he said sobbing ,"Oh dad what do I do now ? These toys ought to get discharge soon how will I get batteries and my friends will be jealous of me know , How will I show them these all they will break them "
When I went to my optimistic kid
"He was smiling looking at manure "
Boy why are you smiling I asked ."There must be a pony out there !" he said grinning
#review #shortstory #shashwat
#review #poetry #babu
My greatest dream
Is to spend my rest of my life with you
Laughing and sharing
Making wonderful memories in all that we you
To grow together to be strong as one
To talk to communicate
To unite when things come undone
To be your best friend
And for you to be mine
To support one other
When we give thinks a try
To be honest and faithful
To be kind and comforting
Generous and respect
For now and for always.
My greatest dream
Is to spend my rest of my life with you
Laughing and sharing
Making wonderful memories in all that we you
To grow together to be strong as one
To talk to communicate
To unite when things come undone
To be your best friend
And for you to be mine
To support one other
When we give thinks a try
To be honest and faithful
To be kind and comforting
Generous and respect
For now and for always.
‘Are you serious? You haven’t developed feelings for me, ever?’
It was mid-of-Jan and we were walking along the river embankment.
She was a little worn out with her boyfriend and when that happens, she always asks me such silly questions.
‘Tch, tch. Friends don’t develop feelings for each other.’
I said matter-of-factly and observed her expressions. Her expressions were as steady as my grandma’s old wooden chair.
‘I mean… not even once? Please don’t say you never felt a thing for me. And if that’s the case, then why you got jealous whenever I’d talk to other boys?
And as she said that, I turned my gaze upwards, mulling for a sharp reply.
The clouds had just turned jet-black and the sun was sinking in the river ever so slowly, just like an ice cube sinks in the water and becomes a part of it, ever so slowly.
"You crazy? The hell I cared with you talking to other boys.
I always wanted you to pick one of those Romeos who were always running after you. Liking your photos, awww so pretty, I’ll do your assignments and saying much other creepy stuff, too.
Thank god you came in a relationship with one of them and I’m free now.
There’s a hell lot of peace in my life since you’re committed."
I replied in a fit of rage.
And later, I couldn’t make eye contact with her after that.
I lingered at the ground and thought myself being that ice; sinking in her love ever so slowly and becoming a part of her, day after day after day.
‘Oh!’
She sighed, just sighed, and we kept walking in silence for a couple of minutes.
But catching me off-guard, all of a sudden, she slowly reached for my hand and held my little finger not like a friend, like a lover.
For one second it felt like someone kicked my heart with a golden boot. Though, the pain was peaceful.
‘Hey! What the hell? What do you think you are doing? Are you dumbhead or what?’
I almost yelled at her as a flush of nervousness rose to my cheeks.
I tugged my little finger off from her grip and slid my hands into my pockets, refraining from any further embarrassments.
‘Haha, you can’t even lie properly, can you?
You’re so in love with me, right?
Right?
C’mon then, propose me right now!’
She giggled like a baby and kicked me hard on my right ankle.
Now don’t shy away like a village girl and propose me now.
C’monnnn!
She said and started laughing her lungs out.
#Saviour #prompt #review
It was mid-of-Jan and we were walking along the river embankment.
She was a little worn out with her boyfriend and when that happens, she always asks me such silly questions.
‘Tch, tch. Friends don’t develop feelings for each other.’
I said matter-of-factly and observed her expressions. Her expressions were as steady as my grandma’s old wooden chair.
‘I mean… not even once? Please don’t say you never felt a thing for me. And if that’s the case, then why you got jealous whenever I’d talk to other boys?
And as she said that, I turned my gaze upwards, mulling for a sharp reply.
The clouds had just turned jet-black and the sun was sinking in the river ever so slowly, just like an ice cube sinks in the water and becomes a part of it, ever so slowly.
"You crazy? The hell I cared with you talking to other boys.
I always wanted you to pick one of those Romeos who were always running after you. Liking your photos, awww so pretty, I’ll do your assignments and saying much other creepy stuff, too.
Thank god you came in a relationship with one of them and I’m free now.
There’s a hell lot of peace in my life since you’re committed."
I replied in a fit of rage.
And later, I couldn’t make eye contact with her after that.
I lingered at the ground and thought myself being that ice; sinking in her love ever so slowly and becoming a part of her, day after day after day.
‘Oh!’
She sighed, just sighed, and we kept walking in silence for a couple of minutes.
But catching me off-guard, all of a sudden, she slowly reached for my hand and held my little finger not like a friend, like a lover.
For one second it felt like someone kicked my heart with a golden boot. Though, the pain was peaceful.
‘Hey! What the hell? What do you think you are doing? Are you dumbhead or what?’
I almost yelled at her as a flush of nervousness rose to my cheeks.
I tugged my little finger off from her grip and slid my hands into my pockets, refraining from any further embarrassments.
‘Haha, you can’t even lie properly, can you?
You’re so in love with me, right?
Right?
C’mon then, propose me right now!’
She giggled like a baby and kicked me hard on my right ankle.
Now don’t shy away like a village girl and propose me now.
C’monnnn!
She said and started laughing her lungs out.
#Saviour #prompt #review
#review #shortstory #aqbilal
I'll Miss you '17.
(Written on 31st December 2017)
I was sitting on the couch in my drawing-room. Scrolling down the newsfeed I got to know the nearby new year celebrations. The day of happiness and enjoyment, I thought. I logged out and glanced through the newspapers. Nothing was making me comfortable, something was disturbing me. I stood up and went to the bedroom, She was there packing her stuff.
I saw tears on her face, "You are crying, aren't you?". I said.
She silently cleaned the makeup mirror and kept it in the purse. I walked to her, touching her hair I said, "I'll miss you".
"No, you won't", she averted her eyes. I kept my palm on her cheek.
"I swear I'll miss you", I insisted resisting my tears to fall. She sobbed.
"I am sorry for what I did to you", she said keeping her eyes down. "It was not your fault", I wiped off her tears, "you were on duty.
"But why me", she was about to cry.
"Only God knows", I tried to be calm, "you gave me some of the beautiful memories". She smiled. We embraced.
My heart was crying but the eyes were not allowed to. "They are celebrating for the newcomer" she kept her head on my chest" what about you".
"They are clamouring for the future, I am living the precious present", I whispered in her ears "I am living your last moments". That was the last time I touched 2017.
-A.Q.Bilal
I'll Miss you '17.
(Written on 31st December 2017)
I was sitting on the couch in my drawing-room. Scrolling down the newsfeed I got to know the nearby new year celebrations. The day of happiness and enjoyment, I thought. I logged out and glanced through the newspapers. Nothing was making me comfortable, something was disturbing me. I stood up and went to the bedroom, She was there packing her stuff.
I saw tears on her face, "You are crying, aren't you?". I said.
She silently cleaned the makeup mirror and kept it in the purse. I walked to her, touching her hair I said, "I'll miss you".
"No, you won't", she averted her eyes. I kept my palm on her cheek.
"I swear I'll miss you", I insisted resisting my tears to fall. She sobbed.
"I am sorry for what I did to you", she said keeping her eyes down. "It was not your fault", I wiped off her tears, "you were on duty.
"But why me", she was about to cry.
"Only God knows", I tried to be calm, "you gave me some of the beautiful memories". She smiled. We embraced.
My heart was crying but the eyes were not allowed to. "They are celebrating for the newcomer" she kept her head on my chest" what about you".
"They are clamouring for the future, I am living the precious present", I whispered in her ears "I am living your last moments". That was the last time I touched 2017.
-A.Q.Bilal