First Day in New York

Impromptu, inspired, my fingers flow
As I see, across a silver window
A red cardinal fluffing in white snow
Amidst a novel, alien, frosty glow.

I shall wish soon, of a long lost dream
Upon the first snowflake kissing my brow.
Then unwrap my folded hopes in honey cream
And let them soak the sweet, albeit slow.

I am no Anglophile,
I am no pro-american,
I am no BCP,
I am no ABCD...

A dreamy dreamer
Just a dreamer...
In an alien land
Of alien dreams,
I seek to define,
I seek to divine,
The will of my heart
The heart of my will...
In the soft snow,
In the crunching leaves,
I shall find fluttering
My few dreams,
they might find wings to fly...
I shall set them free.

Jan 18th, '09.

Unseen

Walk beside me, stranger
Close, Closer...
So as time goes by, our drooping shouders,
Kiss - in the hazy streetlights.
I will show you laughter
In the twinkle of an eye.

When the quarter moon rides, stranger
High, Higher...
And in our flimsy muslin pajamas, cold creeps up,
Recondite - in late January nights.
I will show you misery
In the stealing of a gaze.

I might walk on clicking heels, stranger
Loud, Louder...
When our speckled thoughts rise, stealthily mingle,
Quiet - in Orion's blinking starlights.
I will show you hope
In the flicker of a matchstick.

Walk within me, stranger
Deep, Deeper...
When our lonely selves assimilate into a superior, singular, terrible
Solitude - with its self-constructed rights.
I will show you fear
In the hollow of my hand.

For the night, tonight, is bleak... and long.

January 7th, 2009.
23:30 PST

When the lights are out…

On dark December nights
A pale, demure, waxing moon
Sits like a patiently begging bowl
On the western roofs of Mayo hospital.

Eastwards, Orion leans awkwardly
Over the shallow gothic arches
Of the weather-beaten, crumbling facade
Of the centennial “Gharri wali building.”

Dark, within and without…
Candles – flickering here, there.
Little ones, throwing light – far…
An imago of the starlit skies above.

Frost, like a baby bamboo shoot
Grows up – through my heels,
As I stand – Dreaming…
Wishing upon a lone, esoteric
Shooting star -
Winking secretly
Just at me.

For a brief lasting moment –
Peace – within me,
Pervades.

Jan 1st, ‘09.

An Old Man

He must have loved them much,
His children, his innocent wife.

Through rising, running, rippling tears,
his pain translates to flowing waters,
where softly, like sea-foam, float -
the memories of his past,
slowly, out to nothingness.

A fish fresh out of water,
he still flaps his slippery fins
groping for warmth - tepid coastal waters.
His rhythmic dance of slow death
has now,
carried him on wearied legs
to some mirages -
some wounded healers
carrying flaking placards
of some mistaken nobility.

He with his tried tears,
pours out again
his withered heart,
into unwilling palms,
shrinking surreptitiously
from his wizened countenance.
He curses in mumbled words,
(wrath of hellfire)
his ungrateful son.
Kisses the few kind words
(with flowing tears)
spared his way.

In the unblemished mirror,
of his lonely sorrow -
I see reflected,
me, him, all.

We are,
He is,
I am -
all, dreadfully alone.

Dec 21st, 08

No More, The Moone?

In purple loneliness,
many a-times,
when searing -
my heart throbbed,
split asunder...

In opal faithlessness,
coining rhymes,
when screaming -
my eyes sobbed,
rain, thunder...

I scarce conceived,
ever,
in splashes of crimson pain -
that inured
my bruised heart
would fold insidiously
in neat starched layers
its flightless entangled wings.
That it would cease to care,
enough.
That it would learn to live,
without loving,
enough.
That it would hunt, even scavenge,
in search of warmth,
just enough.
That it would hurt no more.
No much more.

Listless, O so listless,
once a vagabond,
this wandering gypsy -
squatting tepidly,
has shaken off colors,
all gaudy apparel.
It dances no more.
No much more.

Lifeless, O so lifeless,
once an wayfarer,
this vagrant troubadour -
speculating insipidly,
has abandoned pied pipes,
torn all manuscripts.
It sings no more.
No much more.

How, but How, O December moon?
Not having moonlight -
hurts no more.
No much more.

This apathy annihilates me,
In my own blood
I drown.

Dec. 13th, '08.

Loneliness

Tears - watery, saltless, plasmatic
expanded on the rocky terrain
of her weather-beaten face,
like a dam undammed -
in a vast desertic plain.

With her dripping questioning eyes -
Chocolate brown?
(What color is a question?),
and a lone long (strangely long)
trapezoid incisor,
she sat bent, waiting.
Waiting?
What Had she, but loneliness, to wait on for?
(She was old, oh so old,
and alone -
her lone crooked tooth (strangely long)
- part white
quarter yellow
half, question-colored -
punctuated her shriveled features
like an omniscient exclamation mark!)

The Reports spoke, neutrally
of a well-acquainted friend -
Adenocarcinoma uterus,
and requested (even more tepidly)
to evaluate for Anesthesia.

Why, though, did she weep?
What More, at over 3 quarters of a century,
did she long yet to see?
In the dirt-laden poverty of her charity tatters,
what life still, did she yearn for?
What disquieting question did her question-colored eyes,
so questioningly pose?
"Will I live?"
or
"Will I die?"
And which way did they bend, her tired tried hopes?

(My tired tried mind digresses,
its shifting gaze wavers as it settles
like a fluttering moth on a new subject -
Me.
Would you, Madeeha, alone
- at 25 or 75 -
Ever want to live on More?)

Nov 17th, '08.

Today was my first day of house job.

Moonlit Night

An egg-yolk moon, unsettling gold
Rides a purple mist-laden sky,
Where listlessly they swirl:

Some ugly memories,
Some forgone dreams,
Some un-kept promises -

Packaged once,
with 'fragile' labels
And wantonly left -
Out -
In tepid monsoon rain.

The pale, stale, cold gold light
Of tonight's full, oft-hiding moon
Sweats out in silvery pearls
Crawling in fuzzy milky trails,
Firefly milestones blinking
Like Gretel’s innocent bread-crumbs
On endless violet darkness.

Fuzzy? Yes, those memories.
Blinking? Yes, the dreams.
Innocence? Yes, ah once!


Darkness?
3 drops of ink on blotting paper -
Pervading.


Nov 13th and 15th, ’08.