Author Archives: Nikhat Bano

About Nikhat Bano

I am an ESP (English for Specific Purposes) Instructor by profession. I love to write romantic and spiritual poems and I find a great sense of relief after penning down my thoughts on paper. It has now become a passion for me and will continue as long as I live.

A Brief Dalliance

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Standing over a bridge of scented cedar
amidst sumptuous gold glazing all over,
I see brisk lives roving in a cerulean creek
under a luscious lemony green streak.

Looks like a playground of god-fearing hearts
on the sand whose glassy shadows are cast;
Like gazelles they jump ecstatically around
in essence, who are pure and profound.

Nature itself is a sundial of this buzzing land
and the wind’s symphony isn’t less than a chant;
It is far beyond a commoner’s imagination,
I swear, I saw on earth a heaven’s imitation.

A perfect meeting place for a body and soul
gratifying senses at every glance that fall;
Where creator himself sheltered his creations,
in God’s own land I’m invited in a celebration.

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A Glance Says All

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Glowing as a lamp I saw a lone onlooker,

adorned with the flares of sun – one Gloria;

Unleashing a blaze of beauty around her,

lighted my heart’s patio with her wine aura.

Thousand arrows pierced through my heart

when I looked into the eyes of that shooter;

My life ceased to matter for me since then,

I’m moved by the finesse of my fair mimer.

Gleaming glory of that demure damsel

was accentuated by her decorous dealings;

After years I inferred that – ‘A glance says all.’

‘One’s savoir-faire reveals one’s placing.’

It was like watching her from a distant shore,

calmly sailing a canoe on the shiny ripples;

Until now, I’ve kept a storm in my fragile heart.

Never saw a peace dove in a land of ruffled souls.

Her hazel eyes were on me, her lips were sealed

it was our reticence that were in conversation;

A dialect that I spoke the very first and the last time.

All along it was neither a voiced nor a quiet session.

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My Pliable Clay

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A harmony of hues I see from my tent
in the far off land having infinite sphere;
There sparked the azure sky a thunderbolt
I hailed the holy attic from my mortal vault.

Ambient cosmic glaze has tinted everything
my humble abode and my mean belongings;
This place I call it – a home, it’s my nook
here peace is treasured as an heirloom.

From this toned canvas house of mine
I see ahead myriad mysteries of life;
It’s an institution of learning, a place to ponder
where one can disjoin creation and creator.

A balm to the soul is my canopy’s springtime
where I discern an ornate mode from a hermit’s life,
where spring flows through fields and caverns,
And fair sunshine falls on garnets and gravels.

My pliable heart is the king of this wilderness.
The undisputed king of this land, here it rules!
I swear, it’s a wicker work of my pliable clay
who alongwith simple joys has played its medley.

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The Year Of Redeemer

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Would love to wait for him on one odd New Year,
who’ll walk with us as a cherished redeemer;
To free us forever from a life of vice and vanity
Making us cosmic citizens of peace and dignity.

All year long in an erroneous war torn world,
I live restless in a house of shiny sand of gold;
Where demons dwell, roam free on this earth,
just to satiate thirst, for power, wealth and lust.

Hoping for a new dawn I often escape in space,
to get a glimpse of my Lord, to have some solace;
To know my people and to gauge their motives,
to know my world and its beauties and beasts.

They say these are the end times we’re living in,
where minor signs are leaving, major signs are nearing;
Prophecies of the doomsday are before our eyes,
when the wrongs are adored and evils are idolized.

The second coming of Messiah is on the way,
With God’s messenger the new year will be on that day;
Pious and impious will be gathered on that Day,
this is my God’s plan and will happen one day.

The Devil and the Guided-one will be the fighters,
and in that battle the persecutor will be the victor;
Then the redeemer (PBUH) wins with justice and truth,
will fill the hearts of disbelievers with mercy and ruth.

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With You, Without You

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Without crossing the groundsill,
without dropping the bounties,
standing in your roofless house,
my eyes are watching arid clouds.

The bloom of youth no longer blooms,
has lost fragrance in your absence;
With some hope still in my heart and
an eternal wait in fate, I’m in your land.

But surely, the wind is in my favour,
this sky with open arms harbours;
They never block my path leading to you
nor abandons me and my search for you.

A wait so primal but so pristine,
a longing so tiring still clinging;
In an endless procession of nothingness,
one’s absence becomes one’s presence.

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The Gossamer Gown Of Yours

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It was the gossamer gown of yours
that led me to write myriad lores;
When I looked through your silken veil
saw a chuting prismatic fairy tale.

A trek leading to your crystal tiara,
I named it Eden after your crown’s flora;
Then I climbed up to your neat hair vine,
there I saw a beauty as a maiden bride.

For me, you’re a raw gem waiting for a tambourer,
who’ll do on you filigree with wires gold and silver;
For them you’re just a chunk of glass, but you’re
for me, a jewel in a gold foil to be worn by Kaiser.

All heavily appliqued and densely beaded work
in other’s fabric of life, won’t lessen your shine any;
If those are polished, rightly placed diamonds
you are a virgin beauty, for which, others envy.

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Our Lost Pal

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I just saw a word ‘Humanity’
written somewhere here,
O Yes! On a page of our mortal book;
Somewhere right here!

And then it vanished from the sight,
don’t know where?
Might have disappeared
somewhere into the thin air.

Still recall that good book of ours,
O God! Still recall those letters of that
heaviest, mightiest word;
How on earth I lost that word!

It was a byword for peace,
a second word for a lifeline called
universal brotherhood;
It also meant compassion.

O World! Will you help me
to find that lost vital piece of man?
It was a jewel once worn by the wise.
Must’ve met a fatal end, I guess.

Alas! Must’ve been eliminated
and buried in cold blood,
on the orders of the worldling.
Our poor pal was last seen with the virtue.

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Primitive Passion

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On the sizzling sand of youth,
you played barefoot;
Unarmed and unmindful of the,
feary blows of time.

I know the thing that kept you alive,
in the heat of your prime;
I know what healed your wounds,
as an icy balm of time.

The passing streams of events,
gave you many intimations;
Of the upcoming harsh realities,
result of your game of passion.

Flowing across you and me,
were desires dancing untamed,
running wild in my nerves,
was my blind love and just pain.

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Crimson Anecdotes

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It was an usual place of worship but quaintly strong,
in a quintessential town of my ancestral home;
A mosque not awfully grand but a modest one,
the same maker was revered in both the sanctum.

Frolicking within its calcimined walls, I felt proud,
resting under its whitewashed dome, did astound;
Other than peace, the courtyard had one more beauty,
stood out from neighbouring things dull and measly.

There was a silk-cotton tree markingly sprawled,
as pretty as a crimson patch on a soiled shawl;
Planted near a well in that courtyard, I firmly recall,
its coral shade fell upon devout before every fall.

Memoirs of silk-cotton blooms dangling low,
harks me back in time even now, can see its glow;
I still recall that ordinary place of prayer,
it was close to my heart, it was a house fairer.

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Lighting the Lamps of Love

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Let us light up those erased lamps,
which humanity is crying to revamp;
Let us love, shimmer and blink together,
in every clinched fists and brutal grasp.

Let the rays fill the darkest hearts,
let us sell love not sold in the marts;
The supreme creation as we are,
malleable mud is our elemental part.

Universal brotherhood can only shove,
the concept of love and be loved;
Let us kindle our homes with a pious light,
must mind, the noblest charity is to lend love.

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Destiny Poets

Uniting and celebrating the best "Writers" and "Poetry" from around the world centred out of Destiny Church Wakefield

Author Archives: Nikhat Bano

About Nikhat Bano

A Brief Dalliance

A Glance Says All

My Pliable Clay

The Year Of Redeemer

With You, Without You

The Gossamer Gown Of Yours

Our Lost Pal

Primitive Passion

Crimson Anecdotes

Lighting the Lamps of Love