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Imrana Iqbal Poem
I see the majestic, blue sky enveloping
the barren earth ;
like a thick, blue blanket of flannel ,
shrouding a quivering baby.
I smell the silent fragrance of rainbow
colored flowers all around ;
as if a valley full of roses, and tulips,
and petunias has come to life.
I hear the incessant gibberish of blithe
children playing,
as if they are nonchalant to the harsh
realities that life sometimes bears.
I look around and I am left to wonder
I wonder how ; I wonder why ,
this pristine beauty is so alien to me,
this splendid world no longer belongs to me.
From inside this deep commotion ,
I can hear my heart echoing :
“ Fetter me all you can ; tie me with
the strongest chains that you have.
But you cannot chain the fresh air
that sweeps into my cell and
swamps me , irrespective of my color,
race , religion, or language.”
But , nevertheless , apprehensive
of the evanescence of this cool breeze that
somehow creeps through the narrow
bars of my cell , I devour it.
Mar 21,’05.
Copyright © Imrana Iqbal | Year Posted 2012
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Details |
Imrana Iqbal Poem
To the cloudy evenings that darken the day;
To the pitter patter of raindrops on my window panes;
To the sweet odor of the earth after a downpour;
And to the rainbow flashing across the blue sky;
I yearn to return.
To the melodious chirping of the sparrows in the morn;
To the starry nights and the bright moonlights;
To the refreshing sundaes under the blazing sun;
And to the moments loaded with tons of fun;
I yearn to return.
To the steaming cappuccinos after a cold spell;
To the icy lemonades on a sunny afternoon;
To the brief siestas after the gourmet lunches;
And to the clatter of dishes on the eve of a celebration;
I yearn to return.
To the unending talks between my mother and me;
To the silly pranks of my brother that I hated then;
To the innocent compliance of my younger ones;
And to the gay laughter of my friends around;
I yearn to return.
To the grannies spinning tales all night long;
To my mom who strokes my hair, even now that I am an adult;
To the chatter of my siblings on a Sunday afternoon;
And to the commotion of the friends who drop by;
I yearn to return.
To the home of my immortal memories;
To the land of my constant dreams;
And to the place where I feel I belong;
I yearn to return.
Mar.23,’05.
Copyright © Imrana Iqbal | Year Posted 2012
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