Author Archives: Bilquis Fatima

Insomnia.

As darkness shrouds ,

the mind dissects the  night,  

 Rummaging through the scattered  

hills, valleys, foliage and caverns. 

Where  stoic  eyes lie wide open  on pillows

glaring    at the unfathomable  darkness,

giving   company  to the glittering

and not yet glittering  stars.

Riding on the wings of anticipation,

flipping through  distant shores,

I struggle to locate you in various destinations

Of the map etched in my mind

To quietly  slip through and  find    

a  remote corner  in a lobe of your brain

Or a space  in your throbbing  heart chambers.

God’s exotic gifts.


Who said that evil has taken over the world
Who said that goodness no longer prevails,
Just look at the flowers that bloom
In copious amount around the world.

The frilly dresses of invisible fairies
Upturned to absorb the blessings of the sun.
Enticing spectrum of colours they spread
Exuding fragrance of melifluous blends.

How we human do ignore
Entangled in our chores and woes,
The precious flora nature procures.
Verily God’s oeuvre for us to behold.
As petal by petal they unfold.

Relentlessly they bloom each day each season.
To thank the creator gives us many reasons.
Ending up in vases or in a lover’s tresses,
Or pile up on a saint’s grave, in pure veneration.

© Bilquis Fatima

The Mirage Called Love.

Under the silver twilight love walks away

The silhouette growing smaller

Disappearing  in the oblivion.

Leaving behind a  storm  of darkness.

Giving a feel of   a hundred arrows

piercing   at once

That’s when the heart looks inside the void

And wonders what had created the chaos

What  churned  the life for a lifetime

Pursuing   bliss ephemeral, 

Is love for real or just an illusion

Or mere delusion

Or fancy of a youthful heart

Or a myth of folklores.

For if love was genuine

Then why it proves  a  travesty

Doesn’t love make you smile,

When you first feel the vibe,

Exuding an aura of bliss and joy

Then why does it fade away ?

If  altruistic emotions are its creations

why does it wax and wane

and hides behind shades

turning into a stranger,

to the one whose space it occupied.

the weight of which felt ,

only once  gone.

Causing deep impressions, 

Leaving a heart scathed   for generations.

The Lady with Flowers.

Weary rough hands holding bunches of succulent stems
Soft ,fresh , brightly coloured flowers ,at one end                                                                                She fervently  beckons all passers by.
A screaming contrast to her faded ,crushed limping gown ,
Pallid face with poetry written between deep lines.
And pathos peeping from her ripened eyes
That unfolded tales of desertion and neglect .
The wafting scent of blossoms made me wonder
If her house ever scented of blossoms,
or  if she  even  had a house.

Spending her nights in the shade of old warehouses
And her days under the scorching sun
Dragging her feet for miles stopping at red lights
Offering the most beautiful gift of nature,
To sate the demonic hunger of her belly
That pricked her day and night .
Maybe cursing her fate or thanking her stars ,
For the resilience her feeble body, showed so far.

I lunged forward stretching my hands,
Grabbing the whole lot from her,
Presumably relieving myself of a weighty guilt.
Shoving some crispy papers between her stifled fingers.
Looking down at her filled palm
a stream of gratitude rolled down her cheeks
Probably for mitigating her pain.
I watched her abashed and benumbed.
A gripping consternation crippling me.
Verily ,is this all that one could do
To water the withering hopes
Of a mother abandoned by destiny.

Roses .

Roses often line up my memories

Perfuming my virgin nights,

As I gently touch the soft petals

Of roses that lined my garden wall.

I recall the summers, when waking late from my slumber

I darted towards the rose bed , still yawning

To greet them good morning,

Though the sun shone right above the awning.

Touching with finger tips, the petals of silk,

slightly furled, like frilly frocks up- turned ,

Secretly, I admired their sartorial elegance,

that often deluged my nascent mind with passion.

As rosy dreams coalesced in scented mist

The mysteries hidden within the furls, unfurled.

Disclosing the fate of the royal rose

which in its full bloom , is selectively plucked

And for its essence, mercilessly crushed.

Its shape and colour completely altered,

As tiny droplets it succumbs.

Filling the space of intriguing bottles.

Continues to spread its dulcet fragrance,

To leave others scented and exalted.

Many flowers in my life I saw

But from roses, a peculiar strength I draw,

remembering my grandfather

tending them with hands raw.

Who taught me that roses , their essence they retain,

No matter how powerful or debilitating the change.

Don’t You Wish

Don’t You Wish

Don’t you wish
You had hugged them more,
Embraced them once more,
Loved more , cared some more,
Conversed more , listened more.
Visited them more often,
Clasped feeble hands more often
Dined together more often ,
Walked together more often
Spent time together more,
Rubbed each other’s back more often
Planted kisses on loved one’s cheeks
And whispered more often,
“I love you deep.”

Flipped pages of books together
Cuddled with loved ones more ,
Sorted out medicines for the old
And placed them on their tongues
Held glasses of water for trembling ones
Showered your endearments more often,
Applied emollient on cut skins,
Of those who stood with you when hope ran thin.
Don’t you wish
You had blurted out more often,
Your heart’s feelings profound ,
Of how grateful you feel,
Towards each and everyone around,
Blessing you with love abound.
For even a fraction of this if you did achieve,
You wouldn’t be hurting so much
With regret and grief.

Now the times have changed for a while
But you can still dial
And whisper, you love them all the more.
Don’t you wish normalcy soon returns
And with all the wisdom learned,
You do all that you should have done ,
But left them undone.
A smile, a hug, a caress , a cuddle,
A pat, a whisper, a gentle touch,
And last but not much,
A thankful bow to the one and the only ,
Who blessed you with so much.

Trust

It will take me aeons,
To again grow and bloom
For so ruthlessly you plundered my plume,
That what remains is a hovering gloom.
And may be I just never bloom.

I make home in hearts
Always with a cautious start
Then carefree I dwell
Attached to all sentience
Verily believing all that is portrayed.

But now I am a broken thread ,
Lying in shreds
Next to the dead,
Of a rosary shattered
Its beads all scattered.

I was perforated when bullet pierced chests
I was burnt in houses set ablaze
I was desecrated in the holy place vandalized,
I was smouldered in the books set aflame
I drowned in the shrieks for help.

And now a lifetime is less
For me to incarnate
And thread the beads once again
To find a home in loving hearts,
Or wait for a miracle to change fate.

I Build Walls .

I build walls where ever I go
I build walls to let go
To be light and free,
Free of emotions that weigh you down
Emotions that cause tears to roll down
Whenever attached to anyone I get
And not willing to leave them yet,
For reasons good or bad,
Emotions when reach the zenith
And tangle like climbers within,
Last snaps with them I take
And paste them to my album,
Which I bury in a huge treasure trunk,
That opens only to swallow junks.
Shutting it close I return to my chores
Only to come back with another set of photos.
Forbidding myself to be shackled by commotions,
I build walls around my emotions.

Love Of Olden Days.

Can love like days of yore still be found
When besotted hearts happily forsook their crown.
And endearing epistles written in fresh blood
With split fingers that never hurt,
Turned into beads of revered rosary
Emitting volumes of pure poetry.

When dauntless lovers travelled across hills and terrains
To meet their love broke all constraints.
And for one and only they turned grey
But never their love would they betray
For love was so profound and deep
Seeing their devotions even God would weep.

Progress

Like the clouds you drifted
away to distant land
In pursuit of your dreams.
You endeavoured to gain
A life of affluence,
Leaving hearts parched behind.

The glitter of strange land,
New places and faces
Captivate , mesmerize,
Lifestyles entice , provides,
Ostentation presides.
Success is misconstrued.

Engrossed deep in your strive
To ameliorate life
Success prioritized,
Bonding gets compromised .
Your visits become few
swapped by excuses new.

Feelings wane away as,
You endlessly explore
While far back at home,
Vacant eyes search for the
Happiness and warmth,
that money can’t purchase.

Your loving grandma
turns stoic, keeps counting days,
Ears hung to phone bell ,
eagerly for your news awaits.
Living for all these years
Vicariously through you.

The doors await your steps,
festivities miss you.
While  the loved ones remain
impatient   for you                                                                                                                                       to  restore  their lost smiles.
And make this house a home once more.