That Horribe Night

By Shah Bisma Manzoor

That terrible night when the rain drops
struck against the silence inside my nest.
The ivy that stood up against my window,
running in race of reaching to the terrace,
too witnessed the flames on that night,
too strong they were to be put off by the gushing rain.
My heart, the size of my fist
carries tons of pains and wails
tied strongly to the chambers within.
Tears streaming from my eyes like
springs erupting from the earth’s bosom.
The crimsoned paths to my past
twist my mind and traumatise my thoughts.
That night — the horrible moment — still haunts
the dismal rooms of my emotions.
I sense the grip of that beastly figure
around her neck to kill her for his good.
Wonderingly, my nerves gain strength
I no longer scream or cry when I visualise
the terrible clutches of the oppression.
I speak up with all my might
For I am done being timid and coward.
The smiles, the laughter, the joys and merriment
All went up in flames with the first stroke of sun.
That blossomed ivy,the fruit laden vine
the morning glory once in full bloom and smile
too got buried down deep inside the earth.
I could see the vipers in claok of beasts
searching for that innocent in every nook and corner.
He was there — a slave of lust, a captive of satan
Alas! to quench his thirst,he ripped off the innocence.
That rainy night, everything was ablaze.
The sleeping birds cried laments rather than melodies.
The shining stars too were in mourning.
Sun too didnt shine to greet the day.
That terrible night plundered the wealth of an innocent.

That terrible night…

Shah Bisma Manzoor, from Jammu and Kashmir, India, a master in English Literature, works as a Vice Principal of a higher secondary.

Winners Announced !

On the first of December we gave you an image as the starting point and you sent us beautiful begettings of your imagination. Of all the sent entries we selected three winners, one from each language — Urdu, English, Hindi, whom we announce now.

Click on each to read –

I Will Rise

By Shah Bisma Manzoor

In your lyrics, you may keep me alive
with your unwinding and bitter lies,
In your paintings, you may try to
discolour me by the dull hues,
But I will rise again like the foam.
The more you suppress my existence,
the higher and higher I will rise.
Does my lively charm perturb you?
Ah! My charisma apparently disturbs you.
Like the stars shining endlessly,
radiating tirelessly the photons, like the sun,
the billows leaping high so violently,
I too will rise again like certain tides.
You wanted to see me broken apart!
My drooped shoulders, the downcast eyes!
my bruised soul and the poignant cries!
My hearty laugh now pains you though,
my smiles pierce you to death.
Oh! How plaintive my courage seems to you.
You may trample my dreams and crush them,
You may stir my still desires with your evil,
You may kill my aspirations by your insanity,
But …
I will rise again like the birds soaring high

Shah Bisma Manzoor, from Jammu and Kashmir, India, a master in English Literature, works as a Vice Principal of a higher secondary.

An Unsaid Whisper

By Shah Bisma Manzoor

As the dusk made way to rule the world,
I occupied a seat in the dismal corner
Of my room, witnessing the pain in my eyes.
There, star in the sky kept staring
tirelessly and curiously, it twinkled with a frown.
I slowly moved away from its fierce gaze,
But that angry star followed my steps to catch me.
How can I shove it away? I understood nothing.
In a jiffy, it called the galaxy to fill the sky
And the twinkle defeated the dusk.
My tears — quite visible— my scars shone.
A star lowered itself and whispered something.
Hurriedly, it regained its place in the sky.
I kept gazing at the star, a hope flickered.
The galaxy cheered me up and smiled at me.
The anger was gone; and frown was no more there.
I understood the language of the star.
An unsaid whisper, I beautifully heard.
And I arose — not a dumb and frightened one,
But a girl full of valour and determination.
And I heard the unsaid whisper of the star.

Shah Bisma Manzoor, from Jammu and Kashmir, India, a master in English Literature, works as a Vice Principal of a higher secondary.