May be…

May be it's not about the happy ending...

Maybe it’s not about updating regularly – Maybe it’s about keeping in the attic of memory!

Maybe it’s not about being famous – Maybe it’s about giving vent to your thoughts!

Maybe it’s not about what other want to read – Maybe it’s about what you want to tell!

Maybe it’s not about writing correctly – Maybe it’s about writing honestly!

Maybe it’s not about blogging – Maybe it’s just about – happy reading! 

                                                              – akbar ali khan

Personified me

Hands:
“Please let me hold you,
you’re falling apart!”

Legs:
“Please lead me somewhere,
where you can find solace!”

Fingers:
“Please find me a nerve,
where I can tickle to give you that lost smile!”

Waist:
“Please help me to bend,
I need to pick your grace up!”

Ears:
“Please keep me more attentive,
I think life is giving you repetitive calls!”

Nose:
“Please breathe some life in,
you need to smell the aroma of youthfulness!”

Eyes:
“Please remove your specs,
you need to look beyond the obvious!”

Blood:
“Please channelize me to right arteries,
I need to pump some confidence to your hope!”

Skin:
“Please let me feel the gift of today,
yesterday you’ve already lost and tomorrow is still not yours!”

Hair:
“Please let me feel the air,
you’ve already feared a lot of a bad hair day!”

Heart:
“Please, I’m already beaten all black and blue,
So may I stop this beating now?”

                                       – akbar ali khan

FOOTNOTE:

The poet is so grieved that he has lost interest in everything and he has just been reduced to a rock; so he decided to Personify himself!

In the last line ‘beating’ is used in dual sense. First, the beating as in hitting someone and in the second sense as in heart beating. And the eventual solution can be achieved when either of this “beating” will stop!

Two Lonely Chairs

If you go
Through the trees
Into the forest
Where all of the leaves
Hide you from the sky,
And the sky is not seen
You will find
A clearing.
Go to your left;
Turning right is not the way.
Follow the path
That winds back and forth,
Up hills and down.
Stop within 50 paces, and head towards
The sunflower faces,
Up piles of gray rock,
And sloping fields.
Keep on going,
But then yield
When you come
To the ocean shore,
Soft sand
underfoot,
Some rough seaweed
Left behind
From the waves
That sweep and twine,
Most rough seashells
Washed away.
There is something odd
I see today.
Two lonely chairs
Rest on the shore,
Facing the sea.
I sit down
On one of those two chairs,
Wondering why
They are there.
Soft cushion,
Dusted with sand.
Memories that are not mine,
Flash through my head:
A dog and a sailor,
Husband and wife,
Child with child.
Many have sat here.
A feeling of peace settles
Somewhere deep inside of me.
I sit there and watch
The waves that rock back and forth
And dance to the tide
Like it is a song.
I want to stay,
But the sky is dark,
So I return home.
I get up and walk
On the soft sand that is underfoot.
I know I will return,
To those lonely two chairs
That hold their own story
That sit by the sea.
Those chairs are now special to me.
And I walk back the way I came,
As happy and as peaceful as could be.
When I reach home,
Though out of reach,
I will always remember those two chairs
That sit all alone
On that very beach.

                                                                                                                                                                – Paige