Zafar Iqbal Biography

That blurry morning of nineties,

ooze from between the trees
 
...

Sorrow like a mollycoddled child
Knocks down all my cautions.
It twists and pains me to scream
Until Dawn and finds me still in dream;
...

The young poet tremble, writes gore and dirge

More than, shedding tear-like, banes and sears.
...

The day in my eyes
is waiting for it to come
with the sun up
and breeze romancing the strides of its accent.
...

I along with my baby bird flee off the tomb of AQSA to Gaza with a luring urge to fetch ourselves some real good food, knowing that Eid is around and Muslims are at their generous best on Eid days.


As we wing away, sky and land was so very pitiless that we did not dare to rest; We were like threadbare and obvious, raked into the field of dangerous spirits; the devil light, dark clouds drawn north; bad tempered eagles moving all the time twitchily and tenderly, suddenly we were ambushed by a sight quietly bulk headed and the species inside were painting truth with body fluid.
...