The Art of Losing

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! My last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (*Write* it!) like disaster.

~Elizabeth Bishop

Ho Sukta Tau

Ho sukta, tau honay na daita
Jo hoya, ussay khonay na daita

Teray meh khanay main, dil kau doobnay na daita
Gur teray honton kay jaam say pya na hota

Na chaha tha, aur tujh jaisa khud ko mangnay na daita
Uss sukoon main, kaash khuda kau pukara na hota !

Ho sakta, tau hurgez honay na daita !
Aur jo hua, ussay khabi khonay na daita !

~Saira Andleeb

Self Ache

Yes my tenderness inflates, to see your eyes shine for me
Yes my integrity deflates, to look closer when I try to lean
Yes I sob, letting go of the fervor
But it makes me even by emanating firmness

Yes my piety arouses me, to feel your arms around
Yes my trust fails me, to feel a shrink when I try to give out
Yes it pinches trying to forget your warmth
But it makes me win one more breath, without a gasp

Yes my insanity soothes me, to see you boast for my wins
Yes my rationality questions me, to look around and find someone else therein
Yes it seethes me, to give up on the pride
But it makes me wiser than the one you tried to ride

Yes the air melts me, to hear you call out for me
Yes the reality freezes me, to sense infidelity as I try to decrypt
Yes it breaks me, getting out of your oily spells
But it makes me soar and feel my own self

Yes my passion unbinds me, to know that I mean the most to thee
Yes my knowledge binds me, to realize that it has all been a fantasy
Yes its hard, to open my eyes and forgive
But it makes me nurture my soul and know that I exist!

~Saira Andleeb

All shadows disappear in the dark

"... Without stopping, she looked back but couldn’t see any feet making that sound. She made her feet race each other a little faster. After a few yards she turned right into another street. The moment she turned, a shadow wavered in front of her eyes and a rough-edged hand was posted firmly on her nose and lips. A very thin space between those rugged fingers showed the way out to her torn breath. A loud scream started off from her lungs, into her throat and then went straight into her head instead of coming out of her mouth. Her brain reverberated with that scream and she felt as it would burst into pieces ...

... Some moments never leave you alone ...

... Love did breeze through her heart once when she was in college. But it didn’t sail smooth since her boyfriend was more interested in short and sharp fists of passion than in long lived emotions. She would only give herself to a person who would sail through the troubled waters of life with her. That breeze of loving whispers turned into a sandstorm of arguments and she had to leave it behind her... " Read full story

~ Amir Saleem
(The worlds bestestestest story writer)