Tuesday 5 May 2020

1 Poem by Waqas Rabbani


The hinge 

that supports the weight 

of all my ambitions 

has come undone 

through no fault of mine 

I long to taste 

the freedom and peace 

of youth 

I once knew 

but my veins 

are unglued 

from the trappings 

of their biological machinations 

and this old heart pumps dust 

ground from my own bones 

choking up 

my soul 

where is that 

sense of creation 

of wonder 

and imagination 

I belonged to 

I ponder, as I lock my windows 

to the light of hope 

and the winds of change 

and sit in darkness 

hoping for an end 

my sunflowers die 

in a withering field 

a perfect picture 

of dashed hopes 

and dreams. 

I give them no water 

for who am I 

to challenge fate 

and time itself 

I'm inconsequential 

in the greater scheme of things. 

Bring me to green fields 

after I am dead 

and put a brush 

in my hands 

to paint 

one last time 

I've heard dead artists 

get more respect 

from the living. 

Stuff my eyes 

full of dirt 

so I don't forget 

where I belong 

and let the sunlight 

break through the soil 

and light up 

my empty shell 

from within 

perhaps in death 

I will win 

the game of chance 

I lost 

when I was alive 

if I was ever alive. 


Waqas Rabbani has been writing since many years and has written for many platforms such as New London Writers, Nation, NayaDaur and Brandsynario.

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