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Best Poems Written by Raja Nosherwan

Below are the all-time best Raja Nosherwan poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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A Farewell To the Travelers

A Farewell To The Travelers (On The Bhoja Airlines Plane Crash)
 
With pace does darkness conquer light,
when mounts the sun the dying toll,
spied an aura grim my wistful sight,
for had poisoned all, a single bowl;
captive of death as it life betrayed,
the awakened --to the resting prayed,
"Oh! Farewell the mornings vanished pole".
 
Life comes with such a temporal mien,
has it plucked the wings of future how,
though pillows of respite --I had seen,
but these feathers do no sleep allow;
do fly swift! The binders of this cause,
your pause of age, is our ageless pause--
"So, farewell the birds of heavens now".
 
But, soul a machine that does not cease,
yet it fools us from our time of birth;
pass on, move towards the restful peace,
but, secluded stays its pensive worth;
Until the day, we shall meet again
at some wondrous unknown valley then.
"Ah! Farewell the travelers of this earth".
 
R.N.Khan, © 2012

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An Elegy For My Northern Wind

The Northern wind to South did blow
and left a kiss upon my brow,
I least care for the other ones,
From where to where the Western runs.
 
Within the sailcloth’s native flight
down all the oceans could I write,
but good from it can’t come to me
as wonder I at open sea.
You blew me fast on to a shore,
to a sailors will to survey more,
in time did courage I equip,
set sails to my beloved ship,
on a voyage thus I was again,
to shelter once more then attain,
at open sea I wondered long,
Inspecting where the skies went wrong,
why won’t my Northern Wind descend,
when this sailor does on it depend;
but still the promise that I made,
to your choices my silence bade,
when will you see that I had kept,
on stranded days and nights unslept—
my silence close, with lips concealed,
when bitter truth this life revealed,
through torrents that did daunt my being
still vexing moans I kept from fleeing.
If seas could only lives reset
and baptize me to you forget,
would gladly drown in all of them
to this misery just condemn,
but only in my tears design
could I now reach that land of mine
where my silence shall leave me too,
life as a beggar there renew,
upon whose shores I would down lie,
to hearts content then cry and cry.
 
The Northern wind to South did blow
and left a kiss upon my brow,
I least care for the other ones,
From where to where the Eastern runs.
 
R.N.Khan, © 2013

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My Dying Moth

Do pray with me my dying moth
for we are not forgiven yet,
till we don't shed the silken cloth
and both our wings to fire set.
Do pray for me while you are there,
inside your grief our holy land,
how can I for redemption care!
While my own touch the sinking sand.
Still pray, for life is short and ill,
can't empty minds the gardens find,
I might not my transgressions kill,
while praise the earth that burns my kind.
But you are ill and cannot fly,
like a beggars eye do you bargain;
a day, a life, why do you try
and go through the forsaken pain.
If pray you must, do pray for me,
have yet to earn my deepest sin,
though a creature wise you cannot see
a moment through the human skin.
Please pray, as once had for life prayed
in the calmest of your timeless age,
we paint our stay with our own shade
and in this blank find all the rage.
Pray with those burnt out wings so pure,
and ask for me the holy balm,
that does to men the sense restore,
but to this man the senseless calm.
Do pray as I will die one day,
until that day I cannot live,
just dream that you may live to pray,
and to my moth a purpose give. 


R.N Khan 2014

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The Lady On the Train

Don't ask the lady on the train,
of where she plans to go,
for where did her land turn into to sand,
you and I will never know.
Where flies the bird unknowingly,
with voices in our heart,
the moment dies and away she flies,
true to the mortal art.
 
Don't ask the lady of the chain
that we on earth do make,
for if she speaks with her tear bond cheeks,
it shall your pen and spirit break.
We stay to find the purpose not
nor for the unknown muse,
we poise our mind and nothing find,
the pattern then refuse.
 
Don't ask the lady of the lane
on which her sons do tread,
can distance drown the heavens town,
where we eat we make our bed.
The colour of the soul we wear,
a notion is the skin,
a part we seed and another bread,
only one can we back win.
 
Don't ask the lady of her pain,
for we are yet too young,
for time does mold the firmest hold
and petrifies the tongue.
An exit of the dreaming eye,
the advent of sane sight,
the steps you cast a moment last,
before silenced is the light.
 
Don't ask the lady on the train,
as we shall soon arrive,
but she will stay and for us pray,
for we are still alive.
The ideal changes with the form,
the crossing of the sigh,
while grief remains with all its pains,
below the common sky.
 
 
Don't ask the lady to explain
how can the being be whole,
beneath the sun we see no one,
just a shadow of the soul;
the moon then comes and all is clear,
her light does through you shine,
a single being all faces freeing,
we the shadows of design.
 
Don't ask the lady of the strain,
that time has left on her,
she will not try, but she will lie,
tell of the smiles that never were.
There is a place we keep with us,
the oasis of our bliss,
our service purge and with it merge,
the hurtful world dismiss.
 
Don't ask the lady of the gain,
that she gains from finding home,
there are faces lost at pleasures cost,
where the tears do turn to foam.
A torrent upon the growing shore
and within it a dream,
while we do long for the drowning song,
all hope turns into steam.
 
R.N.Khan, © 2014

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In Youth-Less Age

In Youth-less Age
 


Though gentle, hopeful drifts we brood,
but age our wont be kind enough,
in threescores is when life imbued,
will partial be the earthly stuff;
but you'll still be my fancy then,
when Suns shall be the Shallowest,
and dry as those days --my fingers, pen!
Diluting the persistent best;
then shall I my own mind bereave,
when servile times would near a close,
but will your eyes, mine still deceive,
that greater truth than life propose.
The understanding of our earth,
up till we stay, --the way shall give,
entwine when with a lovers mirth,
we not our age but more shall live;
there I shall be a part of you,
though life may still not worthy be,
but time the hearts as one does sew
and breeds the soul's eternity.
 
Soon ladies fine with auburn head,
in youth's subservience shall grow,
with shadows white and lips blood red,
to whom the haste --the world will owe;
but, by the words that reason frowns,
and those that cost if cared for less;
within the gardens, across all towns,
just you my dame this heart possess,
as your my gardens cherished fruit,
could time nor age do you wrong,
your grace can shift a hand from mute,
such do my rhymes to you belong,
and the words, claims that come to me,
be their center, and my days renew,
until the time this soul is free,
and life us quells, an end pursue;
the end of the sojourn we made,
shall love then still be intense more,
when breaths and sight move to a fade,
like youth, your age --I shall adore.
 
R.N.Khan, © 2012

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Forgiving the Unforgivable

Forgiving The Unforgivable.
 
I held my peace and sung a song,
that echoed through the righteous hall,
my right, my truth, all put to wrong!
As judgment fine had met the pall.
 
How can there be a better way,  
to tell the world of foul play,
than those, your words, that captivate,
and that, my looks, you separate; 
your lies, your tricks, my punishment!
In years to come a sure lament;
but life shall only last its days,
until the sun these men does gaze;
then deeds shall bind our spirits such,
would implore it the heaven's touch,
so again shall meet face to face,
when shattered is the time and space,
there I shall pardon and forgive,
as not in this dimension live,
and from this burden be relieved,
that had a trusting friend deceived,
and yes, I have just this to say,
that friends and foes alike decay,
but on that day, you I shall see, 
as an error of mortality.
 
I hold my peace and sing this song,  
That echoes through the righteous hall,
My right, my truth, all put to wrong!
as judgment fine has met the pall.
 
R.N.Khan, © 2012

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A Hopeless Being

A Hopeless Being.
 

Oh Lord! Before in hell forsake,
dreams do remove from all the men;
strip them, their hope away do take,
or shall in hell rebel again.
 
The dreams I dream they aren't mine,
but of that learner courting hope,
at nightfall are a humble shrine,
in peaceful slumber envelop.
in sleep such obscure visions come,
while vulnerable am I whole,
the hostile sights my heart do thrum,
in mixed melody is my soul;
their beauty what does signify,
and those faces that are ne'er real!
Now do our breaths they dignify
or negate all --that we do feel.
Is poor most a dreamless being,
with flightless nights and yearnings sour,
his curse is a mind of stable seeing,
disowning growth forevermore.
Isn't useless hope that ne'er pays,
is present yet as thin as air,
though in the eye it always stays,
but to the reason seldom there;
these drinks of dreams I do condemn,
but life and death come from this cup,
I might have given up on them,
but will they ever give me up.
 
R.N.Khan, © 2012

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Oh Patience My Love

Oh! Patience, My Love.


Have hit both my eyes an unknown storm --
the undoer of my marry Spring,
is beneath my brow a gushing form,
does a drench'd cheek to a yearner bring.
My auguries, that once blessed with love,
have gales become, for a trial of
the touchstone of my faithful shape,
loyal shadows that the future rake;
does my pain emit a cunning drape,
that when praise of love, the evils shake;
still, endure this, to a phase submit,
but, wit, my wit --is my patience fit,
are my gardens, for these storms to reave,  
the fruits to come of better degree;
Or will steadfast be love, if believe,
in shade of the fruitless, standing tree.
Maybe, the grandeur of love is not grand
unless we bear our share of pains at hand.


R.N.Khan, © 2012

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Today, a Phantom

Today, A Phantom.
 
Heavy it lays upon my heart,
that today is a morrows past,
what there is now, an end --a start,
heavy it lays upon my heart,
tragic masks when do  break apart,
do bleak, so gloomy shadows cast;
heavy it lays upon my heart,
that today is a morrows past.


R.N.Khan, © 2012

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Recognizing the Obvious

Recognizing the Obvious.


Through our ash is the endeavor,
of the images on time's shelf,
can distinct the mind be never,
to recognize its weight, its self.
From this ash is laid our coming,
at scatter the origin sought,
from a speck is formed a summing,
to recognize, what we forgot.
 
You're the ones I still remember,
from all the fires I have addressed,
can flare up this dying ember,
to recognize its burning chest.
Such are the wars, we have started,
never is more than pride in wrath;
men are men when aren't dark hearted,
but with love recognize their path.
 
To the wise is all the knowing,
for heinous tricks they can discern;
wisdom comes, but not from showing,
when recognize your falls you learn.
While I greet this false impression,
of the skin, that chokes my breath;
is to stress, a deaf transgression,
is to recognize my life --a death.
 
R.N.Khan, © 2012