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Az Si Poem
Stillness envelopes the midnight hour
The moon dead glimmers on
Throwing pale shades on instruments and stationeries
The day's done therefore feign normalcy (to pretend)
Corpses shed their daily skins
Their facade, painfully branded
From their hair to toes
Now some sleep, few finally awake
Some reminisce,
A pine from the past
Some still create
They cry and are yearning
Oh madness, consume me
Turn me into art
I so dearly long Pray Les, the muses take
Let me die and become
Archive Jan'24
Just as Atmospherically and hauntingly beautiful this one is...almost like a nighttime sister to me...The phase of life which is more like quiet, eerie, and emotionally heavy, wrapped in stillness...yearning..nd a kind of creative desperation...There’s an aching, almost holy longing here... to be consumed by madness..to become art...ahh or to be transformed...even if it means destruction.
Copyright © Az Si | Year Posted 2026
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Az Si Poem
recently,
I have felt on the precipice.
of tears? whispers the night,
all too familiar with my sorrow
of love? whispers my heart,
beating as one with that beautiful boy's melancholy dream
of life? whispers something else
if i wasn't so sceptical, i might say it is my hope
Archive Oct'24
Copyright © Az Si | Year Posted 2026
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Az Si Poem
The symphony to my soul ,
the cool breeze to my summer,
the golden sunshine to my rain,
The pink vibrant hue of my autumns
You're to me..
The heartbeat in the quiet moments..
The whisper in my prayers,
An evening like this....with the sky like a faded painting
It's your birthday..
As people move around me..
I sit still
Watching the sun fall behind the The Taj..
Archive June'25
Copyright © Az Si | Year Posted 2026
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Az Si Poem
A tune rings in my head
I sing it with silence in the crowd
I hum it along a sigh in the morning hour
I bleed my throat dry of it in the bathroom
Her favourite song
And maybe I'm of bluer hue than I thought to be
For it shows in the refused faces
It shows in the wet pillows
It shows in the bloody mirror
It shows in all darned things gifted of reflection
"Your Nail's not straight, your body's weird
When you laugh it's not pleasant"
There was so much in and of me that they saw
More than what I the host did not
Therefore I raised myself
And learned to stay still
Like a deer on the crosshair
Only difference.. I stayed in it for years.
Now that I've grown better, now that I can pretend better
I play pretend in the lonely places
And allow it in my head only then
It Floods back in highs and lows
Notes and melodies on a butchered head
And I cry the tune
I cry.
Archive November 8'23
An aching meditation on memory and the wounds left by ordinary cruelty. Every remembered criticism hangs from the ceiling like a rusted chandelier, casting distorted shadows over the embodiment of consciousness of the muse. "The Tune" A sorrowful little thing in this poem. Like finding an old music box in the attic and discovering it still knows the song of a ghost from the past.
Copyright © Az Si | Year Posted 2026
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Az Si Poem
We were so close to forever
Close enough to believe it was ours,
To speak in tomorrows
Like they were already promised.
I let you become my routine,
My quiet, my constant the one place
I didn't have to hold myself together.
We built something that felt permanent,
and maybe that was the lie
because forever
doesn't unravel this easily.
But you left in pieces,
in slower replies,
in conversations that stopped meaning anything,
until I was the only one
still trying to hold us up.
And the worst part?
You didn't take everything with you.
You left your voice in my head, your absence in my days, and a version of me that still waits for you like you're just late, not gone.
We were so close to forever
and now I have to live
with what it feels like
to be almost chosen.
Copyright © Az Si | Year Posted 2026
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Az Si Poem
I had sworn off that feeling
Long before
Like a Dragonstone around my Essos.
I was good at it, I swear
Could scroll through dozens reels
without that familiar ache,
could listen to Tu Hai Kahan
like it's just a background noise
A language I'd forgotten how to speak.
Then she happened
Like sunlight through a crack
I didn't even know existed,
in my Dragonstone
And I fought it.
God, I fought it...Until my last breath
Reminded myself of sleepless nights,
of unanswered texts,
of promises
But she, She was just effortlessly indelible
laughed at her own jokes
before anyone else could,
got excited about mountains
and the way she twirled in that Eid dress
Bangels chimming like sea waves
On her wrist
Now I'm here again
thinking maybe
just maybe
one last time
I won't end up
picking pieces of myself
from someone else's floor..
Maybe This time
I won't have to..
Archive Aug'25
Copyright © Az Si | Year Posted 2026
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Az Si Poem
The stars
Most of them are dead already
aren't they?
and the polar caps are melting faster at the poles
Those poor bears and the Penguins.
oblivious to the whole ordeal
As it is best, i think
Being unknown of things
The universe plans on hurling at you
The chaos the cosmos throws at you
If you believe that is.
That the universe plans it all
And we aren't all a product of
Things just being things the way they are
Born from randomness in action
By chance and consequence
From dust to explosions and explosions to dust again
And people being born kind but grown to hate
On anything and everything
Even that tiny speck of dust
Even that specific way that person laughed
Even the trees
Even themselves
Not a single flaw, a single scorn unturned.
Until we are nothing but charred ashes.
Because that's the way the unplanned scheme goes
And then
We are stars
And then
We ourselves are dead
And then
We are not
Archive March'25
It feels to me like a bit of the philosophical mood found in the notes by Albert Camus and Carl Sagan somehow meeting at 2 a.m. on a rooftop and rediscussing extinction while staring at the stars. One asks whether life has meaning. The other points out that the atoms in your body came from exploding stars. Neither solves anything. Both somehow make the night feel bigger. Quietly cosmic and strangely intimate. A poem suspended between astronomy and mortality, between scientific randomness and humanity's endless search for meaning.
Copyright © Az Si | Year Posted 2026
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Az Si Poem
Faded into the darkness of mass destruction,
Like the vein of a familiar heart,
where every beat feels fragile,
and the rhythm, once steady, now trembles.
Even a drop of water would make the earth crack and splitting open,
as if the universe itself could no longer hold the weight of its own sorrow.
Thirsty
Thirsty for a sun kiss,
for a spark of warmth to melt the ice beneath
Thirsty for that drop of dew...
There, from a tired cloud, melted and worn
shy rain falls,
But the world around me remains still,
like the cloud waiting to break open,
like the earth waiting for the rain,
like the heart waiting for love.
And here I am..
Lost in the shadows of my own longing,
yearning for the touch of something real,
for the soft weight of those drops to wash over me,
to fill the spaces that have been empty for far too long.
But the rain hesitates.
And so do I..
From the Archive Jan'25
Copyright © Az Si | Year Posted 2026
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Az Si Poem
I don't check in on you.
Not out loud.
But I still notice
When the sky looks like your favorite color.
I still pause,
Wen a laugh sounds like yours.
I still carry a version of you
I pretend I buried,
You're still in that space,
You took up on that day.
And when I vowed to forget you.
My heart,
Still whispers your name.
Archive June'25
Like wandering through an abandoned manor at dusk and discovering that the dust remembers more faithfully than the heart ever could.
Copyright © Az Si | Year Posted 2026
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Az Si Poem
That night..
In the quiet shallow beach
She grabbed my hand and started running,
That laughter.
That smile of hers was unforgettable
I pulled her in a hug,
And held her close,
We kissed,
Held hands
And as she turned her face towards me...
The Alarm rang-
Archive Sept'25
Copyright © Az Si | Year Posted 2026
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