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Nazia Sultan Poem
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Contest: EIGHT BY EIGHT Poetry Contest
Date: August 1, 2026
Fog Between Souls
Silent woods now hold wind echoes.
Grey mist veils our cold, frozen path.
Thick fog stands between you and me.
Dodder wrapped around both our souls.
Rootless, it drained all of our hope.
Broken leaves wept right at our feet.
Who stole our sweet love into fog?
Only silence softly answered.
Copyright © Nazia Sultan | Year Posted 2026
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Nazia Sultan Poem
AUTHOR'S NOTE
This poem is inspired by the true story of poets Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Browning. Bedridden and isolated, Elizabeth received a letter from Robert that began, "I love your verses with all my heart." Over 20 months they exchanged 574 letters that mended her fear and gave her life back.
574 LETTERS
Elizabeth lay bedridden in a lonely room,
A wounded bird behind walls of gloom.
Then came a letter, soft as a spell,
_"I love your verses with all my heart" Robert would tell.
A crack of light filled her cage of fear,
Whispers of love drove the mist from here.
574 letters crossed the night,
Mending her wings with gold and light.
Like lilies that grew in abandoned ground,
Her broken life to heaven was bound.
He didn’t burn the past or the pain,
He wrote her hope till she lived again.
So mend, don’t burn. Write, don’t run.
Love can heal anyone, anyone.
Copyright © Nazia Sultan | Year Posted 2026
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Nazia Sultan Poem
Note on Theme
"The Jasmine of Siachen"
This ballad tells a soldier’s personal experience of survival and courage on Siachen Glacier — the world’s highest battlefield. In minus 70°C, where snow swallows men and death walks the ridges, one thing does not freeze: love. The _motia/jasmine_ becomes the central symbol of hope, memory, and a love that outlives war and winter.
"The Jasmine of Siachen"
In white snowflakes falling on my face,
I’m brought back to a heaven of white.
Where minus seventy turns breath to knives,
And morning comes without light.
The eggs they bounce like stones of ice,
The juice is frozen, hard as bone.
Kerosene drums sing through the night
That tin is life, and life alone.
A thousand ghosts walk Saltoro’s ridge,
In Death Valley where the cold winds moan.
The highest battlefield the world has known,
Where avalanches swallow men like stone.
But through the storm I heard a song,
My brother’s voice against the dark.
He sang while striking empty drums,
And made the silence break and spark.
“Upon Siachen, the white wolves fall,
A thousand teeth of silent snow.
Do not tremble, do not fear at all
For here a jasmine dares to grow.
One motia wakes in armor of gold,
A soft rebellion in a kingdom of ice.
While death keeps watch and the mountains are cold,
Love lights a lamp in a grave of white.”
We were companions of the silent peaks,
Where nature writes in frost and prayer.
Warm tea, his letter from far away,
And love that kept our hearts from wear.
Two weeks we waited for the sun,
I left the tent to greet the dawn.
Then thunder cracked from the opposite height
And turned our canvas dreams to smoke.
I ran through fire that froze my blood,
To find him buried in the white.
His right hand clutched a letter, red
From the girl who crossed the world to write.
And on his chest, above the wound,
A single jasmine, small and bright.
It had not wilted, would not freeze
A motia blooming out of night.
His eyes still held a patient glow,
A smile carved soft in winter’s face.
One love story died within the snow,
But love itself refused to break.
For in that valley ruled by death,
Where crevasses drink and glaciers keep,
A jasmine taught the winter how to weep
And proved that love outlives the deep.
Copyright © Nazia Sultan | Year Posted 2026
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Nazia Sultan Poem
Header Note
Contest: Rhythm and Rubble Poetry Contest
Prompt: A Single White Rose
Sponsor: Kerry Bernatchez
Poem Title: A Single White Rose in the Rubble
Form: Free Verse
Date of Submission: July 10, 2026
A Single White Rose in the Rubble
* single *
* white rose, *
* blooming in the *
* broken stone of a town *
* that fell apart in minutes. *
* The ground shook. Streets turned *
* to dust, like a desert swallowing *
* everything. Buildings fell, roads *
* split open. The noise of life, *
* of laughter—all buried. The *
* sky went red. Fog and *
* smoke rolled thick. *
* Whispers turned *
* to loss. *
* * *
|| Footsteps turned to silence.
|| Everything became dust.
|| But at the end of the cracked
|| street, something was still growing.
|| Small. Stubborn. And there,
|| barefoot in rubble, a little girl
|| in a white frock. She wasn’t crying.
|| She held a photo frame tight
|| to her chest. Her family smiling
|| back from the glass. No house left.
|| No voices left. Just her, and
|| the rose, and the quiet between
|| them. Purity didn’t leave.
|| It stayed. Right here, in the
|| middle of what was gone.
||
||
Copyright © Nazia Sultan | Year Posted 2026
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Nazia Sultan Poem
Engaging The Senses - Sight, Sound, Smell, Touch, Taste
Sound
I walk with white a cane where valley life is breathing,
The water showers near the shop, soft, soothing,
Children’s laughter drifts from far, sweet and teasing,
While rickshaw horns crash loud like a storm seizing.
Smell
BBQ smoke and chai rise warm from stalls nearby,
Rain wakes the earth, and tea steam meets the sky,
Lily and jasmine bloom where flowers softly lie,
Their scent recalls her name I cannot let die.
Touch
My fingers read the world that eyes cannot see,
Silk on my palm moves slow as worms on a tree,
I shape the clay and feel each curve carefully,
So every hidden detail speaks to me.
Taste
I sit where coffee dreams were broken long ago,
Naan khatai with tea tastes like clouds in rain’s flow,
Cold tea has lost its warmth, like past tastes I know,
Yet this bazaar keeps all the days I won’t let go.
Sight
At my craft desk I build her face from touch and breath,
My inner sight sees clear beyond the night of death,
I mold the love I lost, defying silent death,
And hope one day she’ll see what my hands bequeath.
Copyright © Nazia Sultan | Year Posted 2026
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Nazia Sultan Poem
Worst verse
The Circular Tyrant Above My Bed
The circular tyrant above my bed,
Ticks from dawn till I wish I was dead.
The clock laughs like a joker on the wall,
I can’t get rid of this clumsy fellow at all.
Hammer of time, smashing my dreams flat,
Pressure cooker tick-tock, imagine that!
Effervescent minutes, transcendental shock,
Turn my pizza dreams to wall clock block.
Chili sauce thoughts drip down the wall,
Why did some genius invent this thing at all?
It runs like a marathon, no rest, no pause,
My sleep is murdered, give applause, applause!
Copyright © Nazia Sultan | Year Posted 2026
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Nazia Sultan Poem
Header Note:
Poem TitleThe Scalpel vs The Prayer DHR
Sponsor Name: Daniel Henry Rodgers
Theme: Science vs Faith
Form / Type: Diabolical Dialectical Contrapuntal Poem
Date of Submission: July 10,2026
The Scalpel vs The Prayer DHR
LEFT COLUMN: THE SCALPEL RIGHT COLUMN: THE PRAYER
Steel failed to hold the artery Knees failed to hold the floor
Gloves went red, then went still Tears went salt, then went dry
The clock stopped with the bleed The clock stopped inside her chest
Air left the breathing tube Words left her whispered prayer
Silence ran door to door for news Silence ran through her bones
Names were tagged for the body His name was lifted to God
A flat line held on the monitor Hope fell from her cracked voice
Sweat cooled on brow and mask Warmth left her empty hands
Doctors spoke in loss and counts She spoke in "God, take me too"
The door opened, dark came in The door in her shut closed
"We did all we could," they said "Bring him home," she heard
We lost the fight, and he's gone God took the prayer, and he's gone
Copyright © Nazia Sultan | Year Posted 2026
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Nazia Sultan Poem
Sun in His Bare Hands
A boy walks bare feet through hot street
With balloons like sun he holds with pride
His hands are cracked, the summer burns
Through hot street, bare feet, the boy walks
The summer burns, his skin like coal
His hands are cracked, the summer burns
He waits for coins, eyes calm and gold
With skin like coal, the summer burns
He waits for coins, eyes calm and gold
With sad balloons, he stands alone
His heart is pearl no dust can soil
Eyes calm and gold, for coins he waits
His heart is pearl no dust can soil
Across the road his thin feet roam
One day he’ll rise above the thorn
No dust can soil, the pearl of heart
Copyright © Nazia Sultan | Year Posted 2026
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Nazia Sultan Poem
"Broken vows are like broken mirrors" — Richard Paul Evans*
Blossoms on Broken Glass
In one bright spring we met beneath the trees,
Where wind moved light through blossoms in the air,
You held my hands in mesmering rain’s tease.
My heart ran wild, a horse with no restraint,
Your smile made every shadow turn to light,
Our souls like cherry blossoms in the rain.
You pressed my cold hands to your chest so near,
And swore you’d stay with me through endless days,
“Return to me through all the passing years.”
“A thousand springs, and I will still be true,”
But time moved on, my hair turned grey with tears,
You never came, the promise broke in two.
Now Cheerblossom covers vows beneath my feet,
A life without love is desert without rain,
I dance alone where spring and silence meet.
Copyright © Nazia Sultan | Year Posted 2026
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Nazia Sultan Poem
Painting on the Wall
I stand upon the roof of the world,
Rakaposhi breathes soft clouds of light,
Hunza lies below, a painted wall.
Spring drapes the valley in pink and white,
Cherry blooms wake to morning’s light,
Peaks shift their shades with the turning hour.
Black cliffs hold lakes of glassy blue,
Attabad cuts deep with veins of light,
Turquoise water splits the stone in two.
Rakaposhi rises tall and proud,
Mist spreads wings across the height,
Clouds float low like lilies on a shroud.
Autumn comes in fire and gold,
Trees burn bright in amber light,
Valley wears its richest shawl of old.
Thin air shows how nature works true,
Stars fall soft into the night,
Silence speaks where mountains guard the view.
Wind moves slow through orchard rows,
Apricot branches hum with light,
Each breath I take, the valley knows.
Sunset spills gold across the crest,
Pink fire burns on canvas bright,
I’m lost in heaven, held by the night.
Copyright © Nazia Sultan | Year Posted 2026
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