Everyday is just another day with twist; bitter and butter..life goes on

Category: Poem (page 1 of 3)

Slowly But Surely

Om Prakash

I am trying, inch by inch I climb,
Through storms of doubt and tests of time.
In every challenge that I meet,
I push ahead on weary feet.

I’ve not learned to stop when shadows fall,
Nor bend beneath life’s weight and call.
With wings of effort, strong and wide,
I scale each peak with steady stride.

Taunts may come, sharp stones may lie,
But I press on, as fears deny.
My pen, a chisel, carves the way,
Through trials born of night and day.

Silence stands with me through it all,
In struggle’s hour, I stand tall.
I’ll bear the talk, the scorn, the fight—
For victory is in my sight.

Slowly, surely, step by step,
I climb this path with no regret.
I am trying.

The Quiet Bond

Wasim Barelvi

He doesn’t come to my house, I don’t go to his
Yet, distance doesn’t make our bond amiss.
Good or bad, all ties remain,
None leaves this world with more to gain.

In the hands of TV, what has become
Of homes where once fathers led their sons?
No child now follows in their stride,
A fading lineage, once full of pride.

A hundred doors opened, yet held by care,
Where would I roam, if not to return there?
These tears of love, let them quietly stay—
The secrets of the noble, in silence lay.

Tell him, ‘Wasim,’ this world is small,
Whoever enters my door, returns no call.
For once within, they no longer stray,
No wandering heart will drift away.

Unseen, Yet All-Seeing

Sudhan Subedi

I frown,
I’m feeble,
Yet I see it all—
What goes in, what comes out,
The secrets of the world unfold before me.

The world may not know my name,
But I know its every whisper,
Its every sigh,
I know the world,
Though it may pass me by.

In silence, I observe,
In quiet strength, I endure,
Unknown to the masses,
But to the world,
I am sure.

The Name on Dusty Glass

Sudhan Subedi

You write her name on the dusty glass,
Of a car not yours, parked by the bay,
Let her name travel on every breeze,
Let the world know your love today.

Though washed or cleaned in a little while,
For now, her name is clear, it gleams,
Until the rain or time erases,
Her name lingers in fleeting dreams.

Motherhood in every gene

Sudhan Subedi

A poem written for Mom was well-admired,
For all the things she does, all she’s inspired.
When it’s Mom—do we ever need to explain?
Her love flows through us, like gentle rain.

Look at these monkeys, how they care,
Motherhood at its peak, always there.
No need for words, no need for feeling,
Motherhood’s in our genes, ever-revealing.

No force on Earth can stand before,
A mother’s love—steadfast and pure.

Veils of Dreams

Ahmed Faraz

If we part ways today, perhaps in dreams we’ll meet,
Like dried flowers pressed between pages, bittersweet.

In the hearts of the broken, seek loyalty’s gleam,
For even among the lost, you’ll find treasures unseen.

You are divine, am I not too?
My love, are we not angels, pure and true?
Why then, must we meet behind so many veils?
When our souls are bound, beyond all tales?

Fatigue was inevitable while doing some work

Zafar Iqbal

Fatigue was inevitable while doing some work, And now I’m even more tired from resting too much.

The darkness outside has seeped within, In turning dusk, I have become the night itself.

This age was such that I spent it as I did, Disgraced myself while shaming others.

The bird can’t escape, but it’s trapped in this air, I’ve grown weary of baiting my heart like this.

Some weren’t unaware; they knew me well, I was departing even as I sought respite.

Water had risen over my head, but I struggled, Pausing everything, holding back everything.

What pilgrimage were we on that led us to these days? What dust it was that we made holy.

From the bend where we began, we’ve returned again, Bringing a futile journey to its end.

At last, Zafar, I’ve vanished from the scene, In making my unique style too common.

The Night of Excuses

Sudhan Subedi

A Friday night call came from a friend,
But two replies outright condemned.
One claimed urgency, a crisis at max,
The other excused with commitments that stacked.

No typsy evening of laughter and fun,
No chit-chat beneath both moon and sun.

Yet, fate had plans of its own to make,
For that evening, the two would partake.
One held a bag brimming with tomatoes,
The other bore potatoes, heavy as halos.

They shared a smile, knowing the game,
The creative excuses, all the same.
A hint of duty in the air,
For home-cooked meals they’d prepare.

Vegetables won, over barroom snacks,
Responsibilities, no turning back.

Breaking Silence

Sudhan Subedi @tweetsudhan

In silence, there is strength,

Words kept within length.

A smile withstands each blow,

Resilience in a storm’s glow.

Despite shattered dreams, they rise,

Eyes on the earth and skies.

Misconduct to one another, let it be,

The perpetrators secretly conspired to see.

Shattered silence as a raging noise,

Barriers broken, discarding devious ploys.

Stand up, you culprits, no more to bay.

Voices ascend, our land shall reclaim.

They resist the dark with valiant hearts,

Every silence will make a roaring art.

Grim echoing histories as in Sun Tzu,

Every shade of truth will repeat.

Beyond roast and rust

Sudhan Subedi @tweetsudhan

In the cycle of life, roast or rust,
Beyond mere existence, we’re thrust.
Engrossed in sessions, minds confined,
Roasting each other, but are we blind?

The speaker, with wisdom, holds the floor,
Yet sees not the rust, the ones ignored.
Learned and educated, par excellence,
While others languish, lost in pretense.

They lack the basics, yet strut with pride,
In their self-made bubbles, they hide.
For knowing all, they fail to see,
The world beyond, where others plea.

Self-rusted, they roast in their own flame,
A cycle of ignorance, it’s such a shame.
Roasted by rust, they’re consumed,
Yet blind to the world, where hope is entombed.

The cycle persists, in its relentless churn,
As we fail to see, fail to learn.
Beyond the roast, beyond the rust,
Exists a world, waiting to be just.