Showkat Ahmad Wani

Again my pen awakes to write, but what?
And Nought! At door of grief shall write a word
Of joy, or write a spring on snowy house
And write chinary shade to scorching grove
...

What ails thee? Poet! My dear When catch the sight
Of orchard garden, notice pale and sick
Thy dearest rose and petals hurt and ruined
Before of sinking into the grave and see
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Ye teacher listen! Dear, before thee place
The seeds of scorn beneath the marshy green
Among the rows of chaos, and seal their minds
With faith of dark, and clarify them all
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Thy friends are never friends of core, you know?
But foes of foes that share the rag of friends;
You leap them all thy treasure, all thy glee,
And all thy spring that bloom the every rose
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We lost all the senses since we melted fast
As glaciers giant with global warming curse,
And drop by drop we went down chasm of dark,
These strode on hunting souls, we went on sleep,
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The statues go down, melt in part by part
At firstly stroke of sun on face of hope,
Were chiselled clear by idle life of trust;
Thy sense, thy words, thy map, thy all at melt
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Some darken locks that cloud the sun of sun,
And make the forest deep for flying birds,
Are caught in never ending net till rest;
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Now after million years I free the thread
Of rust on writing-file to heave the taste
Of inner cosmic ocean-pearls of pen;
A worm hath slumbered after having gruel
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In spring, the earthly fairies gild by breeze
And gaily keep the words for future bright,
And childhood merry dreams hath weaving age
To spend the zenith bloomy__ full of joy.
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My heart! __ be brave, be brave my heart to lift
This dust for sturdy rock, and wandering beam
To radiant star to ash this fearful bird.
Let leave thy chilly sigh for scorching cheer,
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How long a hollow tree shall stand a strong
And hasty wind when opts to root it out?
A hitch! __ if worms beneath incise the veins,
And birds above consume the autumn fruit,
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I have my night of own to write my day
And have my day of own to write my night
And painful joy to write my joyful pain
And joyful pain to write my painful joy;
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My poet, be being to carve the face of joy
Among the gloomy cliffs of inner darks,
Let drink the fire of feel from flow of life,
And take the pain as pain to write with pain;
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My eyes were sea of dreams when flowers bloom
In soil of fertile heart in restive time,
Hath weaved wants with cords of inner bright
And placed pearly stars in crown of sky,
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When gust does jiggle smiling rose in sleep
She dreams of heaven, hops in joyful head
And dreams in dream of blissful looks on her,
She plays a bride and waits for flying joy,
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With hast I root my tongue out, close my lips
And darn the every gap of dripping truth;

I scratch my mind to wipe the sense of cruel
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A piece of iron that be with damp and air
And rests in friendly showy play of peace,
The serenity falls in treason, waits for trust.
But goes abyss in vain when slowly melts
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The autumn breeze has winged to share the news
Of winter-breath among the trees of lawn,
The leaves start to gold with fear of cold,
The fruits awake from senseless youth of rag,
...

She cried of pain eternal, autumn made
The grief____, why autumn made the grief to ME?
When buds and blossoms grow in wintering fear,
And spring did freeze my fairy cheeks in shade,
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Be good with bad to violate justice forms
And charms of mind, and be not scared deep
Of holy bias when take to ensure such.
...