sophia hayyat

sophia hayyat Poems

A poet never writes …
He pucks what he can’t digest anymore.
Undertakings weird,
Accepted by million though.
...

Child my own child
Nurturing in my womb
Ever since I got consciousness.
Ever since my senses started interpreting things.
...

I seem to have forgotten to live in the surrounding moments.

I linger on the margin,
...

Sometimes for a moment feeling penetrate our souls,
Things are no longer as they used to be.
Time have changed...
Circumstances different.
...

5.

This bomb of bitterness will detonate.
Surely, it will one day.
Like clogged volcano.
Explosive,
...

Had God ever asked me: what is it that I long for?

A beautiful home,
Occupying small space in lush meadows
...

Only if you take me to the point where we started
I'd never ask you to stay for me, how can I? where you wanna leave..
I'd never ask you to redo the things, respeak the word of solace and comfort..
Only if you take me to the point where we started..
...

Dont move but observe the view
Small and tall trees,
Shrubs higher
Now lower, higher
...

Tiger runs with little care of life
But who says he touched ground not light
Taking big leaps as can
Touching for as short while as none can.
...

Life crawls at snail’s pace when you count every breath of you! !
There it comes; thanks to Haven here it goes.
Feeling every inch of pain and tribulation
Go through every inch of anxiety and frustration.
...

I wish I could be eagle flying high with little care of life.
I wish I could be lion furious
Or tiger running light with little care of life.
I wish I could be rustic child forever,
...

Every morning, i wake up arranging jigsaw of my shattered-self.
With care and lot of struggle i reconstructed to replace all parts to Theirright place
I reconstruct them protecting against hostile forces.
Everyday, i convinced myself that by evening it would be strong.
...

Belonging to two worlds,
Two diametrically opposed worlds
Traveling in two boats.
Divided... in a fix between the two.
...

In my quiet moments
I used to stroll deep into empty thoughts.
Where wind at times
Wild, impatient
...

How hurt i was when one morning i found
Under my pillow, broken into two?
My favourite hair clip..
I chose pink color where Nosh red.
...

‘…Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! ’...(Ode to Grecian Urn)
...

Soundless noise,
Breeding passively but constantly,
It doesn't even reaches my ear.
Heap of unexpressed thoughts storming inside cage,
...

Dark around,
Quiet, rather
No sounds.
Or, far off,
...

O wind o' wisp!
Where art thou flying for?
Thou touch's away strength.
Fly higher and higher but
...

Where hast thou gone?
Thou sole consoler of my soul.
Sole balm of my wounds.
Sole expression of my inner worlds.
...

The Best Poem Of sophia hayyat

A Poet Never Writes!

A poet never writes …
He pucks what he can’t digest anymore.
Undertakings weird,
Accepted by million though.
He tries to masticate and
Swallow the gooey unbreakable stuff.
Yet, abortive unlike people around.
Stomach-a failure- to transform it and
Make it a fraction of body and psyche.
He pucks and hurl s it out.
With only difference…
It either sees the sheen or
Lumber-room is the destination.
Unknowingly, puck at first becomes his component
Then, comes out undigested.
Amalgamated with the self.

Poet never write they puck.
Not the unbreakable substance this time but
Entangling controversial mind's eye.
Finding it out unadjustible in heart and mind.
They let it go,
Go and catch the life on the wing.
The elusive bulk lest,
It should start eating the tissue, lest
It should suffocate breathing room, lest
Stuff the void inside.
Ending in destructive explosion.

A poet never writes but pucks,
Like a kid,
The milk after his stomach is puffy.
When overload agitates him.
A poet never writes but pucks…

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