saadat
04-18-2009, 08:47 PM
EONS of an expatriate
This is designed poetry... it reminds the people of far off lands the heart aches involved in distant travel...
if you centre justify this poem it will be seen as a bottle which is the usual end result in such sad situations...
The day was so silent
and dear you with it
The evening was somber
you and me with it
Time running short
we fear being apart
ugly looming airport
parting days for rapport
Wary and uncaring crowd
good byes exchanged aloud
Slowly walking pressed along
Thinking whether it was wrong
Here a poor an penny-less man
I stepped from this to that eon
Looking back I saw you smile
Lingering now was but futile
In hush, saw your eyes brim
you too saw that I was grim
Feigned fancy of the flights
M’love afar an tender sights
She an me, both turn to pray
Mumble,murmur what to say
The sky at once was overcast
In deafening din the runway past
With a lurch my body carried away
Another stint, where no night or day
Soon I’m hurtling through the clouds
Me in the throes of gathering doubts
Maybe this’ll be the last time round
Alas! I know that hollow sound
Original
Saadat
(Islamabad)
(Vintage…from files)
This is designed poetry... it reminds the people of far off lands the heart aches involved in distant travel...
if you centre justify this poem it will be seen as a bottle which is the usual end result in such sad situations...
The day was so silent
and dear you with it
The evening was somber
you and me with it
Time running short
we fear being apart
ugly looming airport
parting days for rapport
Wary and uncaring crowd
good byes exchanged aloud
Slowly walking pressed along
Thinking whether it was wrong
Here a poor an penny-less man
I stepped from this to that eon
Looking back I saw you smile
Lingering now was but futile
In hush, saw your eyes brim
you too saw that I was grim
Feigned fancy of the flights
M’love afar an tender sights
She an me, both turn to pray
Mumble,murmur what to say
The sky at once was overcast
In deafening din the runway past
With a lurch my body carried away
Another stint, where no night or day
Soon I’m hurtling through the clouds
Me in the throes of gathering doubts
Maybe this’ll be the last time round
Alas! I know that hollow sound
Original
Saadat
(Islamabad)
(Vintage…from files)