Jis din bhi ghazal mein bandh gayi

Ishq mein azaad ho jaungi

Jo tune rahem se dekha

Barbaad hojaungi

Ek zamana zahen mein mere

Aur kahin nahin haqeeqat mein tu

Sach mein mil gaya gar

To khud wasl ki raat hojaungi

Artwork by : Weronika Marianna

Harud

Jo toofan ki tarah aate hain

Aksar jaldi baras jaate hain

Shaam tak tair lete hain

Raat mein doob jaate hain

Ooda ooda khicha hai falaq

Behta hai neela khoon-e-jigar

Tamanna mein teri jale jaate hain

Ishq mein tere jiye jaate hain

Laut ke khud se milenge kisi morh pe

Harud aane tak khudko sajate hain

Dar-e-tilism-e-ishq

Hath ko aaya

Aur mun bhi lagaya

Par dar-e-tilism-e-ishq

Maine akele hi khatkhataya

Tu masroof tha

Main majboor thi

Zindagi Jo moimma hai

Kisey aakhir samajh aayaa

Ek hissa bhikaari hai

Aur dusra Fakeer

Tere samne phaila dun haath

Ya karti rahun ye khamosh ishq

Pehla bosa Jo kare

Dusra na karpaya

Gehri hai meri rooh

Maine halka jism paaya 

Art: Two human beings,  Edvard Munch

On the occasion of a blue blood moon lunar eclipse

From darkness the contours of your face emerge.

Grey desaturated skin and the shadows on the curves.

They remind me of the moon shot with a long lense.

Your face my love,

is a moon with indentations.

Self portrait (1906) by EDWARD HOPPER

Sweet Nothings

He peeled the moist green apples,

And drove the knife in to their center.

He pushed it in slowly and slowly,

And cored them with precision.

Next he cracked some eggs

And with his fingers caught the yolk.

Even though it slipped and slopped,

He managed to pull them out.

With his knuckles he kneeded the dough

And flattened it with the palm of his hands.

A little butter he slathered on it

And neatly folded them in to a cone.

He smoked a cigarette on preheat,

And frantically looked for something,

while the cones baked.

At last he found it in the chill tray,

rose red frozen blood in my blue veins,

a thin layer of ice on my fresh heart.

Like a musician he chopped it up.

Apple pie in pockets,

Baked shiny brown,

Crisp and fragrant,

Full of wet apples.

He then julliened my heart and sprinkled it,

On his rustic homely dessert.

He ate it without a pause.