Adnan Shafi |
An 87-year-old man
with ample virtue
and warmth;
Spending his life
In a far-flung city of
China, to wit, Wuhan.
Now, known as,
dreary city of China,
So vast a fiasco,
the coronavirus bout
pruned the wings of
hope.
One rugged riot and with
shock of it,
With guarding face masks,
they coated their faces,
They, walking down
the sick lanes of City
Wuhan,
Nagging around nature,
Reckoning around tragedy
Remarking all bodies perishing;
For works, all halted
All tales more sweetly
got scorched.
The face of nature
With no more mercy,
All withered alike, but
a grim tone lies in the
same rosy muse,
Here the same
local resident old man
got infected;
Family bothering,
Relatives worrying,
Friends moving
toward,
However, the virus
nuzzled him barely
from some incognito
spot;
Yet the uncertainty buckled
them all;
The elderly man hospitalized
for almost a month,
Thereon his eyes with
a gleaming glow, and
salty tears when began to
flow,
He sighed and yearned
to regard duly his last wish;
Reflected recent jewels
and endorsed the day
by beholding the most
gratifying sensation
of the Last sunset in the
city Wuhan,
And outside the
hospital, the colors
of riping
mellowed his each
part that then began
to live again on the
fresh hope.
***
SHALL WE RIOT OR SHALL WE RETURN?
Such love with no fury
verifies Itself shaky;
in some outlying nooks
of the ravine;
Still surging up, most
rather a flashy whiff,
Encompassed by, their
chores, a notion of two
quick-witted,
The earthly foes, who
precariously wring their
neck,
Deride them with their
disposition, or with their
able vitriols.
Would the twosome savor,
days done in, and surplus
impediments.
Well, If these foes in life
thwart;
Shall we riot?
Or
Shall we return?
Land here and gape the
Verses well to scramble
over the outcomes.
***
SCRAPE AND PANGS
The valley of kinks,
Carcasses despicable
on the roads,
Many sons are dead,
And their fathers writhe-
like the scapegoat of
cataclysm, and left in
the vociferation,
O purple crocus, reach
in the valley over and
over and sprout in the
spring season;
Take away all the imbecile
boorishness;
They are here and move
not away,
The sadism which they
infringe, just fade it away
now,
Here is a devil-like a Basil
badgering us, humiliating us,
drooping us daily;
razing our wings of light;
Oh God, send some
cornflowers into our
hearts;
Open all the doors to
perpetually put chamomiles;
I with them and they with me
will bide for always in the vale
of funereal shrieks.
***
BURNING HEART
In the heart,
A conflagration,
Sending sparks
through the arte-
-ries of body;
And who goes to
descry,
Who goes to carve
the rail to curb it
My heart,
a humble place,
know not I how
It caught the fire
inside;
I wonder -how my
veins still fending
off with this
prithee someone
fetch some water
to squelch the blaze
inside.
***
SADISM
Sniveling eyes, wheeze
fiendish air diurnally
through the undue
alleys of the gorge,
An undefiled man
maimed by remonstrating
for the unabridged life,
mislaid everything,
mislaid his celibacy,
his words of intuition,
his pedagogy, zilch lingered
within verve
The willies shrank him
from view, even so, whining
through the banks of the
rattled dell,
Tribe yet rioting with
their chivalry and probity,
Each pettifogging quirk will
be limned on judgment day,
none can cushion his vitiated
selfhood,
This all mitigated by the
seasons sprinkling
the newfangled urge in the
lineage,
Green life to reside with,
fresh wish to abide by;
Ferocious the glen's string,
Soon be beheld its end
And the idyll will shortly wake
along with the burly wings to
wheeze the fresh air.
Adnan Shafi, (23) was born and brought up in a middle class educated Bhat family, which belongs to Chandrigam in Tral area of Kashmir valley. He is a poet, writer, columnist, translator, short story writer, reviewer, blogger, motivational speaker, ghazal-writer and editor, and co-author of many anthologies. He has been internationally published and won poetry awards from numerous publications.
His poetry book "TEARS FALL IN MY HEART' depicts sorrows and vicissitudes of life. There are various hues in his poems ranging from love to loneliness and despair. Besides, his poetry is replete with the simplicity of thought and language. Some of the poems are autobiographical in nature which relate to his own life’s vows.
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