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Hina Nasir Poem
A time may come, when heart, which is said to be a soft piece of flesh, turns to a stone. A stone beating in your chest doesn’t just free one but opens a shell with magnanimous appealing for solidarity from world. While a smile is wore on the pale face and sound of giggles made back and forth, loud enough, the sound is most relatable to a laughter, but , void of life and energy. In short the sinking holes under eyes which must had ‘v some time given way to a river and the crow lines, gaping emptiness of soul inside this rusting body explicitly trying to define itself in that lifeless forced laughter, but see, a smile and a puff of powder hides everything and frees the mind from the uncomfortable conversations one always want to avoid. So then, smile and wave, sit with a stone in your chest, and be very content with it, because a stone doesn’t feel, nor does it break. Here it is then, free from the conventionality and space in which you breathe, which pledges your personality though the luxuries and beauty on name of blessings, still be grateful on them and fly off from all the possible uncertainties, raging inner self. Then with time, slowly, this nourishment of terror leaves, but with a gift, a heart of stone. HN
Copyright © Hina Nasir | Year Posted 2015
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Hina Nasir Poem
As darkness absorbed in my reveries, my usual lapse accommodated itself in height of melancholy but not in this conscience. Then I found myself in my room and my window opened. Everything in upheaval, a white structure, huge, marvelously at apex of my window. I in white robe swayed to it, it was moon at my window side.
It said: my and your air is full of cry and clamor, I have advanced in blackest abysses but I found your inflictions darker then so, why? I sharply spitted all skulked pains, hypnotically. I being the slave of my doctrines, told every stealthily guarded impulse, not fearing of any undignified disclosure anymore. I stretched my dreary monotony and passionately exaggerated some sentimental wailings of past. It reposed in meticulous care and said: only contentment and engaged happiness would have been an impracticable theory in this world, every being is balanced, by faults and sanity of soul, there are boundaries defined for every sense, every pleasure and grief, why do you preoccupy yourself in such petty calculations of your life?
I said: moon, you are just like me.
It asked how, I said, we both take our real selves in the darkness.
Agreed moon said: But we both shine.
I said: yes, you the white light and then my words strangled.
Moon seized the auspicious moment and corresponded: and you in your eyes shedding,
Agreed me said, there is one more thing, we both embody our abandonments, you got pierced holes in your body, while my dejection gave me an amper self. But my friend, I said to my new attested loyalty; every night you are there, out, visible, ready to receive anticipated attentions, I don’t. I just cannot make it.
Moon said in angular features; don’t appeal your agony by this agile mind.
My voice thwarted, no! It’s a righteous opinion of myself. I confine myself from the very dearest minds, as an adulated stranger, unoriginal, my friend, I execute my every desire by myself, you don’t. My acquired timidity fails me to claim my accessible pleasures.
While it accused a glance at me I said further, Moon! You do run and disappear and I don’t, I shove my existence in this perilous structure. If you’d be me and I be you, then before this presumed suicide , if you and I beeline, I in space from up there , you in my body , we both shall share some suavity of our jeopardies then.
It smiled, swiftly swelled: look, every night a star dies nears by me, every night a being twinkles at my foot , I appreciate the beauty and spin, then it dies , I grieve and hollows appears in me by these buried brutalities of my life. These are the significant truths of our lives my friend. Our lives suffer friction but don’t forget that they are prevailed by wiser counsels, and one day I and you, every being would diffuse in nothing but dust. Then there your soul would be your originality, thought it must be unexceptional but welcomed , if you passed every fraction of your life weighing your life in demerits and merits. If the indecent world violates your decency then don’t forget, your fiends would not dissolve you, but the prejudices that you hold against yourself would destroy you. There is one life, to show to act. This is the texture of man’s soul and life. Don’t try to be the victim but the ultimate verdict of tranquility, like a saint, grow on the thorn, be a flower, this is where peace and happiness would spring.
My voice stuttered, swayed my head down, as in a way accepting the just summarized by its loyal visit. A heavy and sullen silence resided, it was sufficient to soliloquy. We both felt cold and found our answers, that there are going to be no answers for our intellectual mazes, in this life, in this existence they are beheld by Him, our accumulated burdens are only to be lifted by valor, from Him. I wanted to raise my face and look at my alien splendor when just then a ray illuminated us, moon had gone and I dropped on the ground after this anomalous experience. Thrust back in the darkness of my room, closed in satiation. Like from every dream I returned in an awkward dilemma. My audible intimations with moon produced an attested loyalty in my heart. As I woke, I descended to my window, same barren view, but my heart had an appreciable relief, my sight blind to beauty was now seeing, dear ones around me, though it was late to claim the ones lost but I was wise now, enough to survive with some left love in my heart. The assembled arguments with moon had arrested my malign thoughts and my head along with the path was light now.
Copyright © Hina Nasir | Year Posted 2015
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Hina Nasir Poem
My land is culturally richest,
Yes not as bloody as canvased!
Purely we follow the same lord,
At same time we offer, so faith is restored!
Knotted in holy month to fast, all together,
In my home, religious values still haven’t blur!
So we speak different languages but,
The followers of same prophet!
And we have the different skin color,
Nationally but we are alike, greener!
In my home, hospitality for which people dote,
Nobly I say religion we culturally denote!
And the love imparted in closely knitted families
So rich, but live only under father’s monopolies!
I make hackneyed proclamation of beauty of my home,
Anchoring the same ship, we stand under the same dome!
Copyright © Hina Nasir | Year Posted 2014
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Hina Nasir Poem
When did this ambivalence fluxed into happiness,
When this happiness boisterously took over mind’s stagnancy,
Till today I had bounded it to mere laughter,
Till when I kept waiting for my jocundity in the mere faces around,
Didn’t I know,
All this already puns in my heart,
Ah this happy-Ness dwells in my very self,
Really this very essence of my life, resides in my soul!
This serenity, in which I actually float, furtively I say,
Didn’t I know,
Of this poignant happiness,
When my sight is blessed with their faces,
It is stunning me out of the bizarre conventionality,
From where am I being enlightening? With this happiness,
Didn’t I know,
Even under darkness, this happiness is fondling me,
Making my life utopia,
this is Providence, surely,
it is all around me and in me,
really didn’t I know !...
To be happy for no reason,
To be grateful for having life,
To be nurtured and loved unconditionally,
To appreciate this beauty of deflection of life,
Before …of This happiness, really! didn’t I know !
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dedicated to my parents (they are all i have), and to the friends who accompany me on poetrysoup, thankYou so much ,for appreciation and love, all of you .
Copyright © Hina Nasir | Year Posted 2014
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Hina Nasir Poem
Yes there the heart pun, with pride
Here the sense grows admiration for self.
Every time, my eyes _ see my eyes in the mirror,
Something sparkles and a cherishing smile appears.
Look here the person, alive,
Then a deep breath inculcates, Rushing blood
With so much self-righteous arrogance, it takes
Yes because here is the power,
Look at my face, I rule myself,
Look at eyes, once shed blood,
Look at pause I utter, once broke up
Are powerful and gleaming again.
Yes I love that face that was burned,
The kingdom; along with herself,
Now is alive and with life.
Yes I respect that face, in mirror
You are my pride see, undefeatable I deem.
Copyright © Hina Nasir | Year Posted 2014
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Hina Nasir Poem
Why man is so scared of solitary Hina?
But is ready to devastate with someone!
Oh this dilemmatic notion slaves my mind to think
Please don’t mention its love, it is never prejudiced,
Not self-conceit either, then what is it Hina?
Just have a look around please
Whatever it is, is it beyond dignity of man?
Or is it merely another reflection of principles or values,
Or again is it the fear of death in solitary?
Maybe the dread of stigma,
i need to be answered , because last night,
When I saw that face in the veil,
Hopeless and wounded, but,
Still unable to cede, per significant other,
Why still diffident, don’t tell me this is love,
i still await to know, hope it’s not a fallacy
Then why their conscious doesn’t agree
It is not enough to convince me hina,
This reality is so bitter to swallow,
I will just wallow in my own vistas,
Yes! I’m not destined for this kind of absurdity.
Copyright © Hina Nasir | Year Posted 2014
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Hina Nasir Poem
As we departed for a long journey,
My heart punned with jocundity,
Had heard a lot about its beauty,
But didn’t know, will ‘be welcomed so haughtily,
As I propelled on non-native soil,
It seemed so preposterously royal,
Still there, ah I missed my home,
Oh where I could fearlessly roam,
Where the noise of rickshaws,
It seems so soothing the way it draws!
Where we wait for that oily heavy breakfast,
While licking my fingers I bet! I in contrast!
They pour so oil in them that would‘ve surpassed
The oil in deep ocean … that America cast!
They call east is submerged into Spirituality’s aptness
No but it is more traditional I say, tooting my profoundness!
Here nobody would be bothered if found felonious,
But if disobeyed family, would be considered vicious.
I’m telling you about the preciousness of my land,
About the norms people engulf, in my homeland,
We gather now and then to celebrate,
The loves we give each other, make us grate,
In my home, neighbors are never left alone,
Such a hospitality inn! Greeted as are our own
Girls wear the shirts, better shawled,
Which west calls modest but I say,
These are the values, in which they are mold,
These are our norms practiced since Islam borne!
Please don’t turn over from its today’s view
it still is the paradise though dark, I construe!
Copyright © Hina Nasir | Year Posted 2014
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Hina Nasir Poem
Ghalib-Iqbal-Faraz!
Have you read the message from the east?
Iqbal is Called universal but here,
Insist to call him poet of east!
Do you know who said about purity?
By mere deed it can never be achieved!
If so, then these are even known by Satan.
He knows enough tricks to misdeed...
Do you know who said that he saw?
HIS presence in pagan’s heart,
But the poor soul is unaware!
Moral soul of our culture is kept alive,
Truly by these writings, they revive!
These writing versions so emote,
Our cultural values since birth float,
In-between Iqbal, Faraz and Ghalib,
Their literature quite candid!
And our culture is merely aided
By the projection of these commended!
Copyright © Hina Nasir | Year Posted 2014
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Hina Nasir Poem
As you grow, happy moments shrink,
At some day, skin aches when you smile,
These are just ordinary lines, or
Maybe just exaggerated tales,
‘D thought so but no fraction of idea,
It could be real, as real as you dwell in it,
Just like another story,
How a freckled face glance down,
Why arched brows are falling down,
The crow lines of eyes say it,
When it aches to smile,
Wearing it which was disowned years back
Don’t spell or stare or nod,
May face lays as in absence of suspicion
Knot of rope around my neck,
What changed or happened,
Somebody sprinkled dust on freshly painted canvas,
That Blush of youth _with self-indulged soul,
Beauty reflected in the eyes wide open,
Then agonizing hand interfered,
So made me wore this,
The face you don’t look at.
I have told enough, misery loses its grief,
If explained to satisfy that deaf ear,
Let it prevail, the dust,
Let me blacken myself in the stained canvas,
For that is what meant, and so,
Let this veiled face pray, in the shadow,
For the last breath, not for shrine,
Lived in mundanely and so did suffer,
Shall die in that ordinariness too,
If life asked you about my tiredness,
Don’t blame a name but a cure,
Which is desperately awaited, let her know.
Copyright © Hina Nasir | Year Posted 2014
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Hina Nasir Poem
When I‘ll get over with this,
With this suffocation,
I want you my Creator,
To make it a memorable day.
Be it unlike a usual day,
though their hearts would still beat,
sun would rise and set,
life would be just as it was before,
so Let me write down something at least,
my shroud be unlike some others,
Even I would've aged, powder me,
THE END should end beautifully.
Don’t widen your eyes,
I’m a simple person with simple unfulfilled Desires,
That meant life, accept that,
Be careful because I was too a bastion like you.
When I’m done with the later offerings,
I 'll know,
I will be listening __
For all the answers that I have awaited for so long.
closely, in the dust, in the air,
Out there, I‘ll be watching , vehemently.
Copyright © Hina Nasir | Year Posted 2014
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