حسرت تھی دِل میں میرے

By Tousif Hujare

حسرت تھی دِل میں میرے شاعر بننے کی
بس اسلئے كے تجھے اپنی غزل بنا لوں

تجھ سے وابستہ ہر شے سے محبت ہوئی ہے
تیرے نام کی تشریح بھی قصیدہ بنا لوں

لفظوں میں تراش كے تیرا حُسْن بیان کروں
تیرے زلف كے سہارے قافیہ ردیف بنا لوں

تیری سادگی کی گواہی تو زمانہ دیتا ہے
تجھے اپنے ہر مصرے کا مفہوم بنا لوں

قمر سے تشبیہ دیتے ہیں شاعر معشوق کو
میں اپنے ماہوار کا تجھے ہی قمر بنا لوں

Tousif Hujare, 26, is a mechanical engineer, his medium being Urdu. Hobbies include playing cricket and writing poems.

آتی ہی نا تھی

By Umar khan

آتی ہی نا تھی مجھ کو گفتگو کرنا
اک کلی سے ہے سیکھی خوشبو جو کرنا
تم مہکنا صحن میں کلیوں کے جیسے
میرے گھر چاندنی اے ماہرو کرنا

دیکھنا، سوچنا، بس اس کے بارے میں
عاشقی میں فقط دل، تو ہی تو کرنا
درگزر اپنے عاشق کی خطا کرلو
خون بہتا ہے دلبر، دل رفو کرنا

ہے یہ ممکن کہ عاشق چین میں آئے
جلوہ یوں نور کا اے خوبرو کرنا
دیکھو تم بھی کسی سے کم نہیں دلبر
پہلے اپنے حسن کی آبرو کرنا

میں کسی کا نہیں، بھاگوں محبت سے
چھوڑ دو ساجنا میری جستجو کرنا
عربی میں خطبہ دینا چاہے زاہد، پر
شاعری میں محبت اردو کو کرنا

روح کو صاف کرنا تن کی لذت سے
عشق کرنا تو لوگوں باوضو کرنا
اُمّیٓ تم آستانہ خود ہی بن جانا
معرفت کی مہک میں “اللّٰہ ہو” کرنا

Umar Khan, 24, from Islamabad, Pakistan, is studying Project Management from SZABIST and working as a CRM officer in Beacon Investment, Gulberg.
Instagram handle – @ukwrites96

Baugmaree

By Toru Dutt

A sea of foliage girds our garden round,
But not a sea of dull unvaried green,
Sharp contrasts of all colours here are seen;
The light-green graceful tamarinds abound
Amid the mangoe clumps of green profound,
And palms arise, like pillars gray, between;
And o’er the quiet pools the seemuls lean,
Red,—red, and startling like a trumpet’s sound
But nothing can be lovelier than the ranges
Of bamboos to the eastward, when the moon
Looks through their gaps, and the white lotus changes
Into a cup of silver. One might swoon
Drunken with beauty then, or gaze and gaze
On a primeval Eden, in amaze.

Unrevealed Silence

By Ramya Kalyan

Under the stars that whine my melancholies,
the frost gives me chills and hope.
Night’s crescent descends down,
brimming and dousing my hollowness with faith,
lightening the door to eternal bliss.
All alone I stand with a smutched silhouette,
loving the mum whispering lullabies in my ears,
saying, “your scars are an identity, and beautiful” …

Ramya Kalyan, from Tamil Nadu, India, calls herself “an ardent tyro at writing.

Little Girl And Her Moon

By Sheebah

I was staring at my books listlessly in the noon,
as I thought of a story about a girl and the moon.

Once upon a time, there lived a young, enthusiastic girl,
who had charming eyes and lovely brown curls.
She was fond of the shape shifting celstial body
and would sing lullabies about its beauty daily.
At nights, she would wait near the wooden door,
hoping that one night it will land on the porch.
She imagined riding it to the chilly North Pole,
thinking about it somehow calmed her soul.
She would often address it as “My Dear Moon”
and for the humanity, she considered it to be a boon.
“Come down to the earth, come play with me,
come pay me a visit, come down to me”.
She watched it change its shape every night
and everytime she would be pleased with its sight.

A few years passed and the girl grew older
Her hopes for the Moon’s visit became fainter.
One night, when she wasn’t waiting anymore
She heard a soft knock on the wooden door.
The beloved Moon had come down to the earth,
to visit the girl who appreciated the reflector’s worth.
“Dear Moon?”, whispered the admirer doubtfully
as the beloved Moon stood on the porch silently.

As I watched the girl walk towards the door
Something started pulling me down on the floor,
As I fell towards the floor and kept falling continuously
I heard some footsteps and then a door creaked slowly
I continued falling down when someone shook my shoulder
“Oh dear! You’re sleeping again”, said my mother
“Dreaming and exploring, Mother”, I said to her,
as I thought about the fate of the Moon and its admirer.

Sheebah is a student of class XI whose hobby is to write poetry.

Picture-Inspired Poetry, January 2021

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

  • We accept only original and unpublished work.
  • Write whatever comes to your mind at looking this image by Vadim Sadovski and send us. (Poetry only)
  • Submissions are open from January 1, 2021 – January 15, 2021 only. Entries thereafter will not be considered.
  • We accept Entries in the languages Hindi, English and Urdu.
  • Only the best three of all entries will be published. One from each language.

ENTRIES OFFENSIVE IN LANGUAGE OR SENTIMENT WILL NOT BE PUBLISHED

SUBMISSIONS ARE CLOSED

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Destiny

By Iqra Nasir

Standing in the balcony
Staring at the stars
Thinking about the destiny
Is it bright as they are

Looking at the sky
Talking to the moon
That fortune needs hard work
To shine like the star

Admiring the trees – with flowers
Saying how beautiful they are
Inspired by the nature
Want my destiny to be like they are

Observing the birds silently
Engaging with the essence of environment
Believing in the powers of God
Fate can glister by just one prayer of ours

Iqra Nasir is an student of English.

आयत-उल-अल्लाह सा चाँद

By Abdul Rahman ‘Rahman Baandawi’

आयत-उल-अल्लाह सा चाँद आया आक़ा का आमद है लाया
हम गमख़्वारों को ख़ुशियाँ मनाने का मौक़ा है लाया

हर तरफ़ जहाँ में ख़ुशियों का माहौल है छाया
रौशनी ही रौशनी है और हर कोई है मुस्काया

अर्श से ता फर्श नूर ही नूर है छाया
हूर ओ ग़िलमा व फ़रिश्तों ने सल्ले अला है गाया

नबी ने हमको जीने का सलीक़ा है बतालाया
अबु-जहल की बंद मुट्ठी में संग-रेज़े को कलमा है पढ़ाया

शक़ किया क़मर को व शम्स को वापस है बुलाया
नबी ने अपनी उम्मत को जन्नत का रास्ता है बतलाया

सल्ले अला का नारा लबों पर जब जब है आया
जश्ने आमदे रसूूल की रौनक में चार चाँद है लगाया

रब ने अपने महबूब को जन्नत का वसीला है बताया
रहमान बाँदवी कर सदा नबी की सना, वक़्त क्यों करता है ज़ाया

Abdul Rahman, from Uttar Pradesh, India, is an Assistant Project Engineer whose passion is writing.