US

POETS’ CORNER

US
By S. K
Fri, 08, 19

Finer it becomes day by day, But there is no way to put that strain into motion....

Russell Crowe, poet

According to The Guardian, Russell Crowe composed a poem to read at Empire Film Awards ceremony. After receiving an “actor of our lifetime” award Crowe whipped out this bit of verse:

I am celebrating my love for you with a pint of beer and a new tattoo.

Imagine there’s no heaven.

I don’t know if you’re loving somebody. To be a poet and not know the trade, to be a lover and repel all women. Twin ironies by which great saints are made, the agonising pincer-jaws of heaven.

If you can walk with crowds and keep your virtue, walk with kings but not lose the common touch, if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much;

yours is the earth and everything that’s in it and what’s more, you’ll be a man.

It’s only words, and words are all I have, to take your breath away.

Amnesiac darkness

By Mohsina Rehman

No stone is there to strike the vast beautiful ocean with its striking passion,

Nor is there a stick that can beat the drum to bring the chords into divine motion,

No wine is left to be poured in a crystal,

no potion; there is no potion, yet it seems like an unfathomable ocean,

Finer it becomes day by day, But there is no way to put that strain into motion,

Only silence!

A silence will be the only notion.

Listen

By Momina Hassan

Queries of youth must I raise

For the graveyard within my soul where my thoughts were concealed years before

The far forgotten legend of woes

Voice can’t say, but words will decide

Hark! My tale is an innocent plea

A whole new world I intend to perceive

Horizons await me, I believe

Let this belief conquer tonight

Shall these reverberates approach your heart

I promise, you will see beyond strife

Talking thoughts

Ali Asghar Ghani

Death of spoken words

Is

birth of thoughts

Fairytale

By Mashaal Farid

From once upon a time

To it was a dark stormy night

Fairytales turning into mysteries.

The poems of my notebook;

Impairing silent screams of light

In fiery ashes,

Of charcoal burning letters,

I burnt those few last verses

That asked your name.

Tiptoeing to the ache and pain

It may pass with a little rain

Whilst moon rising with glow

From a dark stormy night

To once upon a time.

Like dry and dead leaves

By Aisha Rehman

Like dry and dead leaves

Which are blown by the storm from the

Trees to produce new leaves,

My thoughts are too shaken by the storm to create new thoughts.

Compiled by SK