Died the poet has on a fateful night;
A painful death of love.
Never more a poem this pen'll write,
Never more a ballad these lips'll sing,
For life has left,
To return never.
Felt not by a heart her poems were;
Died she a virgin.
But bliss she glimpsed for days few,
Enough memories to last her through.
May her words rest in peace!

                               - Prats

A memory's smile,
A forlorn gaze,
Early morn' laze;
A momentary quiver,
Solitude's tear,
All things of yours dear.
A name's sound
Soul to you always bound;
A call's tune,
Madness swoon,
I am but a loon.
Like the twilight after the sunset,
A warm glow your memories are,
In the darkness of the new moon night.

                                   - Prats.

A dusky moonrise I chance
The heavenly lord suspended in the starry sky,
So divine his aura,
His glow puts me in a trance.
Dazed I gaze,
Transfixed, rooted....I ponder.
What does it take to win his love?

                            -Prats

Yeh mehlon, yeh takhton, yeh taajon ki duniya

Yeh insaan ke dushman samaajon ke duniya

Yeh daulat ke bhookhen riwajon ke duniya

Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaayen tho kya hai?

Har ek jism hai ghayal, hare ek rooh pyaasi

Nigahon me uljhan, dilon me udaasi

Yeh duniya hai ya aalam-e-badhawaasi

Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye tho kya hai?

Jahan ek khilona hai insaan ke hasti

Yeh basti hai murda paraston ki basti

Yahan par tho jeevan se hai maut sasti

Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye tho kya hai?

Jawani bhatakti hai badkaar bankar

Jawan jism sajte hai bazaar bankar

Yahan pyar hota hai vyapar bankar

Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye tho kya hai?

Yeh duniya jahaan aadmi kuch nahi hai

Wafa kuch nahi, dosti kuch nahi hai

Yahan pyar ki qadr kuch nahi hai

Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye tho kya hai?

Jalado ise phoonk daalo yeh duniya

Mere saamne se hatado ye duniya

Ye tumhari hai tum hi sambhalo yeh duniya

Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye tho kya hai?

                                               -Sahir Ludhianvi

Dekha Hai Zindagi Ko Kuch Itna Kareeb Se

Chehre Tamaam Lagne Lage Hain Ajeeb Se

Es Rengti Hayaat Ka Kab Tak Uthain Baar

Bimaar Ab Ulhajne Lage Hain Tabeeb Se

Har Gaam Par Hai Majmaa-E-Ush-Shaaq Muntazir

Maqtal Ki Raah Milti Hai Ko-E-Habib Se

Es Tarah Zindagi Ne Diya Hai Hamara Sath

Jaise Koi Nibaah Raha Ho Raqeeb Se

Aey Rooh-E-Asar Jaag, Kahan So Rahi Hai Tu

Aawaz De Rahe Hain Payambar Saleeb Se

                                           - Sahir Ludhianvi

Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayal aata hai

Ke zindagi teri zulfon ki naram chhaon mein
Guzarne paati to shadaab ho bhi sakti thi
Yeh teergi jo meri zeest ka muqaddar hai
Teri nazar ki shu'aon mein kho bhi sakti thi

Ajab na tha ke main begana-e-alam ho kar
Tere jamal ki re'naiyon mein kho rahta
Tera gudaaz badan teri neem-baaz aankhen
Inhi haseen fasano mein maho rahta

Pukarti mujhe jab talkhiyan zamane ki
Tere labon se halawat ke ghoont pee leta
Hayat cheekti phirti barhena sar aur main
Ghaneri zulfon ke saaye mein chhup ke jee leta

Magar yeh ho na saka aur ab yeh aalam hai
Ke too nahin tera gham teri justuju bhi nahin
Guzar rahi kuch is tarah zindagi jaise
Ise kisike sahare ki arzoo bhi nahin

Zamane bhar ke dhukhon ko laga chuka hoon gale
Guzar raha hoon kuch anjaani rahguzaron se
Muhib saaye meri simt bharte aata hai
Hayat-o-maut ke pur haul khar zaron se

Na koi jadah na manzil na roshni ka suraag
Bhatak rahi hai khyalon mein zindagi meri
Inhi khyalon mein rah jaoonga kabhi kho kar
Main janta hoon meri humnafas magar yunhi
Kabhi kabhie mere dil mein khayal aata 

                                                    -  Sahir Ludhianvi

"He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it."

                    - Douglas Adams

List'ning their fear, I could not say "Amen",
When they did say "God bless us!"

But wherefore could I not pronounce "Amen"?
I had most need of blessing, and "Amen"
Stuck in my throat.

Methought I heard a voice cry "Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep," the innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast -


                  - William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act II, Scene, II

What hands are here? Hah! They pluck out mine eyes.
Will all great Neptune's oceans wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incardine,
Making the green one red.

                                       - William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act 2, Scene 2.

The Ascending (of Roger)

I have passed the mountain peak and my soul is soaring in the
Firmament of complete and unbound freedom;
I am far, far away, my companions, and the clouds are
Hiding the hills from my eyes.
The valleys are becoming flooded with an ocean of silence, and the
Hands of oblivion are engulfing the roads and the houses;
The prairies and fields are disappearing behind a white spectre
That looks like the spring cloud, yellow as the candlelight
And red as the twilight.
The songs of the waves and the hymns of the streams
Are scattered, and the voices of the throngs reduced to
silence;
And I can hear naught but the music of Eternity
In exact harmony with the spirit's desires.
I am cloaked in full whiteness;
I am in comfort;
I am in peace.

                                     
                                  - Kahlil Gibran             

Mirror, mirror, on the wall

Whom do you see?

A peaceful face when my world’s tumbling down,

A happy face with overflowing rage?

A surprise feigned at an open secret

Sympathy when I couldn't care a damn!

A beautiful mask covering the innocence

A warm smile ready to strike.

O mirror, do you ever see me?

Even in the midst of raw emotions

Why do I always wear a veil?

Fear I’ll be taunted for revealing myself,

Or bravery that I’m in control,

Only to become stone cold.

Give me the strength to be myself,

To unmask and be free.

Let the world see me

Let myself see me

For nature’s most beautifully complex creation I am,

Let my emotions complete me. 

-Prats

Which to choose?

A past that gave momentary happiness and pain thereafter

Or the present brimming with joy?

Past that was chained and bound

Or unrestrained present that lets you be?

The ghosts of the past always rise;

Will they be laid to rest

Or resurrected to haunt the present and become the future?

I wonder though….

Isn’t it the past that makes the present

Or the present that undoes the past?

Whatever it may be,

Let not the darkness of the past extinguish the present glow,

Let not the soul of the past take away the life now.

-Prats

On Children

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

                                                                                                                - Kahlil Gibran

                                                     PRATIMA

                                                           

She is the fourteenth phase of the moon descended,

Who paused reaching the fringe of the full moon.

For a slight touch of imperfection,

The earth does not hesitate to call her, her own.

On her exile on the earth

She does not wear a veil of aversion.

In the crowd of the world

She remains poised within herself;

Unperturbed in weal and woe.

Her patience is full of cheers

That dispels the presence of all anxiety.

If disease comes threatening,

A tender silent smile clings to her placid mien

Calamities like clouds,

Float not a few beneath her.

Time and again

But fail to extinguish her glow.

There is yet something lacking in her glory;

There she conceals,

Her tears,

Touched by the inkling of sadness-

Slightly perplexing.

That tiny imperfection

Is never vocal,

None can observe,

Not even those who constantly remain around her.

Unbounded heaven has recognized its bound on the earth.

Is her name Pratima (an image-like one)?

                                                                                                   

                                                                                                  -  Rabindranath Tagore

On Marriage

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. 


Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. 


Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

                                                                                                                             -  Kahlil Gibran

it may not always be so; and i say

that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch

another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch

his heart, as mine in time not far away;

if on another's face your sweet hair lay

in such a silence as i know, or such

great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,

stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be, i say if this should be-

you of my heart, send me a little word;

that i may go unto him, and take his hands,

saying, Accept all happiness from me.

Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird

sing terribly afar in the lost lands.

-anonymous