A Poem – Majeed Amjad


Sons, my native land has sons
born on soil
barren and rocky and lone
for ages lone
across the gaping wilderness tear
ruthless winds and torrents of pain
sweep in epochs.
sweep them out.

Sons of mountains
radiant petals of jasmine gay
specks of time-less age-less rocks
elegant, fair and tender moulds
lumps of leathern coarsened hearts
damned by sun and wind and time
dashed from tops.
they seek a home
lost in dust beneath their feet

On a heap of squalid unscrubbed pans
immersed in simmering scalding water
the toiling sweating hands do seek
the blessed home
for ages they have thought and dreamed.

In towns flourshing
along the banks of mountain brooks
stays a-while
a fleeting cloud of gloom.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The Home!
and from an urban sheeted roof
curls into waves of trailing smoke.

The brook is limpid murmuring gold
the smoke is trailing meandering gold
the killers are killers
of conscience grace and candid souls
if ever they marked
the wave of anguish
a dash, a span
among the torrents of water and sweat
the rocks in hearts
the dark sinister rocks would fall.

A Twinkle in Her Eyes – Majeed Amjad


Who can say

Why her eyes,

Those playmates of the hamlet where Beauty dwells,

Why her eyes smile that way ?

When notes arising from her soul,

That Temple-Palace of Music,

And traipsing through the land of glad tidings,

Mirthfully smothering the tinkling of their anklets,

Tip toe up, haltingly, secretively,

To the gates of her lips,

Why her gaze sparkles and smiles ?

Leaping over islands of silence

And wastelands of sealed lip pining,

When the silhouettes of desire

Come waltzing in

To nestle in an intimate moment’s nest,

Why her gaze sparkles and smiles ?

Her soul, that Sprite-Princess,

Neither lifts her veil

Nor voices her song

And when her heart’s ballad

Passes through distant, unexplored worlds

As the faint, lingering sounds of a flute …

Why her gaze sparkles and smiles !

Poem – Ghazal 

I am being accused of loving you, that is all

It  is not an insult, but a praise, that is all
My heart is pleased at the words of the accusers

O my dearest dear, they say your name, that is all
For what I am ridiculed, it is not a crime

My heart’s useless playtime, a failed love, that is all
I haven’t lost hope, but just a fight, that is all

The night of suffering lengthens, but just a night, that is all
In the hand of time is not the rolling of my fate

In the hand of time roll just the days, that is all
A day will come for sure when I will see the truth

My beautiful beloved is behind a veil, that is all
The night is young, Faiz start saying a Ghazal

A storm of emotions is raging inside, that is all 

Poem – A Prison Evening 

Each star a rung, 

night comes down the spiral

staircase of the evening.

The breeze passes by so very close

as if someone just happened to speak of love.

In the courtyard, 

the trees are absorbed refugees

embroidering maps of return on the sky.

On the roof, 

the moon – lovingly, generously –

is turning the stars

into a dust of sheen.

From every corner, dark-green shadows, 

in ripples, come towards me.

At any moment they may break over me, 

like the waves of pain each time I remember

this separation from my lover.
This thought keeps consoling me: 

though tyrants may command that lamps be smashed

in rooms where lovers are destined to meet, 

they cannot snuff out the moon, so today, 

nor tomorrow, no tyranny will succeed, 

no poison of torture make me bitter, 

if just one evening in prison

can be so strangely sweet, 

if just one moment anywhere on this earth.