The Colour Explodes in its Whispers


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The colour explodes
in its whispers
in its harmony,
the nature descends,
as the light catches,
the morning dew
with the man,
from different land,

in its alignment,
the mosaic
of beautiful summers
echoes of the past
in its view,
the rainbow drops
from the old corridors,
where once they travelled
from the old desert
to the mountains
the air
that whistled through the verses,
the place,
wher our heart remains
across the land,
once ours, now gone
the dreamers paradise…

the last remnants still with us
the monuments of wisdom
the tools of expression
there he roams in its valley
cornered and in its shapes,
reflections, and its wonder
of expression and humanity

The colour explodes
in its whispers
in its harmony,
the nature descends,
as the light catches,
the morning dew
with the man,
from different land….

ASIM KHAN

Freedom…..


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Freedom,

the battle cry of the martyrs,

or the expression of thinkers 

the dream of the poets
as the flight of the birds
in cage, in wait,
as the oceans embraces
the distant horizons…

Freedom
sometimes,
the cure as the leprosy eats,
the body and its soul,
the old remnants of youth
in appearance, momentarily
there remains, the lasting spirit
as the morning sun slices

across its night

Freedom,
as the old image comes to life
The familiar clicks of the lens
as its shutter captures
moments frozen to resurface again,
in Volga rivers and its discovery

Freedom,
the change, invoked
the years of endeavour
the oxygen, we breathe
through this struggle
in these years of tumult…

Freedom,
finally the peace,
as we return to our final abode,
with all our compositions
in our hands, the good and bad,
eternal, the flute and its echoes…

KASHKIN 

 

The Famous Battle


the whispers

There you remain
hidden,
in distance
out of my reach
one day,
I will find you

as they arrive in millions
from all corners
as the ocean greets them
there I will find you
through these mosaics
of peace and its moments
tranquility and its magic

only the murmur
in the distance,
now exists of this struggle
there I will find you,
as change will decipher itself,
the existence lived
through these years
of toil and labour
there you will find me,
dreamers…
where once we got together
and the madness

There you remain
hidden,
as peace finally returns
in these avenues
where we had once fought,
the famous battle….

The Journey- (14th August 1947 to 14th August 2012)


Long time ago
The dreamers once met
To ponder and to reflect
We need a land
Where we can exercise
The mind and its expression
We need a home
Where we can practise
The strength of our beliefs
The notions of our existence
To build from our past
And to look
Towards the future
The people and their welfare
As the voices began to find
Its echo and its stamps
To lead and to live
In peace,
With our minds and hearts
As began
The journey of this nation

From the days of the migration
To the mayhem of our present
The debacles that followed
The torture that surfaced
And the brilliance of few
That became a comfort
Still in us, enough to shine
The resilience of the nation
And the dreams of innovation

The moments have arrived
As the sunlight breaks the distance
The trails of the darkness
As the change and its arrows
Announces its presence
The stillness to be shattered
Through the corners of our eyes
The deserts and it’s mountain
The longings
of the rain and it’s spring
The country of the youth and it’s dreams
Time has come to honour,
The remembrance of our future
Celebrate we should
As the darkness lifts its veil
Let the heart find its rhythms
Let the soul find its beat
Let the dreams finds its pace
Let the nation find its scope

Pakistan,
The country and its dimensions
In hands,
The millions stars
In green and white
No longer the whispers
As hands form the Dua and the will
To survive, the surrender not an option
Only the tears of joy to offer
The huge sacrifice that was once offered
Let us remember
the nation and those hands
The freedom we have, let that be known
To discard the chains of ignorance
We must change, we must embrace
Ourselves, all that forms
The country it is,
The nation it will be
The crescent and the stars,
Engulfed in green and white
It belongs to you, it belongs to me
It belongs to all of us

Let’s own,
The promise and its hope
what we can offer,
Our endeavours,
For the future,
The darkened days to surrender
As the morning dew announces its arrival
I am Pakistan and here I stand
Let the world witness
 Not the misconceptions
And our faults
But the strengths and what we can offer
Let’s lit up the sky
With actions and our struggle

Once upon a time
The dreamers once met,
As the history coiled in its pages
The magic and its potions
 The course and direction
Upon the shores of the ocean
Where now stands
The confusion and its destruction
Let’s not forget what we have
the courage and the reason
The world within we live and breathe
Let not the mayhem and corruption rule
Let the change and progression
Enter our lives and peace
The fountains of tranquillity

Once upon a time
The dreamers once met
Remember them
In them you will find
The display
The direction of our future
The old journey upon the sea
As he contemplated
The old sojourn in Heidelberg
Where he pictured
the dreams of our future
As the civilisation unfolded it’s charms

Let’s build what we can
And offer to the rest
As the passions that carried
The time and its dimensions
let’s not surrender
The conscience and its soul
to those who saw the opportunity
To plunder and to loot
Let this conscience become the light
As we travel far, to the moments of time
As this Universe unfolds its charms
We have come to reclaim
Our home and our domains
The glories of the past
The pearls of our future
As we travel far,
in the distance of our past
Of this existence and its dimensions
As this Universe unfolds its charms,
To carry us far,
The displays of our struggle
Through the echoes
Long time ago, the dreamers once met.

In Silence, they Burn- (The Muslims of Rohingya-Myanmar, Burma)


In silence,
We hear,
Our voices,
In silence,
You disappear,
UN and the media
In silence,
We suffer,
Our fates
Wounded together,
In silence,
The world witness

In Myanmar,
The Rohingya Muslims,
In silence,
We cover,
Our wounded and dead
Only to discover,
As the hands that cut
It’s more to come

In silence,
They commit,
The atrocities
In silence,
We observe
Our fasts and fate
Through the shades
 Of the moon

In silence,
We scream
These painful days
As our children are burnt
Our women killed,
Yet you remain,
Indifferent,
The world and its voice,
In silence
Our soul dies

In silence
We have lived,
The Rohingyas,
In Arakan region
Through the years
Of persecution
The discrimination
Systematic and diabolical

In silence
The old history,
Sweeps its carpet
Of what happened,
In Minbya and Mrohaung
As Rakhines killed
The story continues

In silence,
We are no longer
The citizens
The slaves proclaimed
By the state and its apparatus
As our land
Confiscated
And our rights
Denied
The human values
Only in distance,
As we watch
In silence
Towards You

In silence,
We remain,
Our mourning and grief
In silence,
We escape,
From the stench
Scattered
Across our lips
In silence,
We remain,
Our eyes,
The sockets empty
The light gone

In silence,
The World,
As we watch,
The removal of conscience
In silence,
We observe
The death
Of this world
And its institutions
Through the shades
Of the moon….

Ode to Iqbal


The distant stars,
Within your reach,
As the old month of November
Approached in its surrender
As the eyes witnessed
Storms gathered in its pace,
The tumultuous ways of the world,
In confusion and lost direction,
The revival of spirit and intellect
The old paths of glory and heart
Walks with you in the old days,
Old reminders of Cambridge and Heidelberg
Where you once became the king of beggars,
But only the dervish you remained,
These beautiful words that were written
As East became the way for direction
As you travelled from one quarter to another,
As you followed truth in your pursuit
As poetry became alive
Of new forms and its shapes
Through dreams of your existence
As heavens followed its brightest star
Across those landscapes of dust and despair,
Follows in its whispers,
The morning dew of your memory
There lived this man,
The dervish, the poet, the philosopher
Dreamer of an eagle and change…….

KASHKIN