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Hello and adaab! They say poetry is

not about the words but the pauses

and space between the words.

Though I speak in words, my

feelings speak in poetry. This is my

first venture into writing a book.

My greatest inspirations are my

parents. I would also like to thank

all those who have contributed to

the book my being a muse to my

poems. Shukriya and Thank you

Chaotic Ash

_ _

Such is the chaotic ash of destiny,

it blows through our souls.

It crushes all those agonizing shards,

and the heart grows darker than coal.

But I promise you my love,

one day I’ll heal these sordid gashes,

Touch me so violently my love,

that a phoenix rises from my ashes.

_ _

_ _

_ _

_ _


I don’t know what to call it,

it’s this feeling of home abstract.

It is not something animate,

but her love that takes me aback.

I don’t know how did this happen,

that this feeling of home so sweet.

Went from four walls and a roof,

to her luscious lips and her



I wish you could see my scars,

or the tears that run helter-skelter under my


I wish you could feel my sordid wounds,

or the innocuous love that starves within.

I wish you could caress my soul,

and then feel the chill run down your spine.

I wish you could kiss my throbbing heart,

and my bones would scream with all their


I hope one day destiny makes this true,

and you glance right through that door.

Come right to me and clutch my hands,

and help my waves find their shores.


I am the wolf that howls at the moon,

or the penguin that yearns to fly.

I am the gaffer that wants be a laddie again,

or the speechless who want to cry.

I am the warrior, who wants to preach,

or the beggar’s child who stands outside the toy


What’s common among us all?

Is it that we all breathe?

Or do we love a lot?

I think we all have just one thing in common,

we all cry for the love we cannot touch.


Hazy eyes, a stout little frame, and sweaty palms,

a small lump of happiness walks through my door.

Her eyes are filled with enamored waviness,

her arms sway in a clumsy symmetry.

I love the way we say the same words at the same


I don’t know if telepathy exists,

but minds do latch on to some.

I was the raft and she was the sea,

I might drift but will always return to my coast.

I am the clouds and she is the earth,

I might drift but will always deluge on her.

I am the wolf, she is the moon.

I’ll always howl when I see her whole.

I am a star and she is a little girl.

I will always twinkle when she looks at me.


I had seen her today as a piece of art.

An art I couldn’t understand.

But I said to myself,” Art isn’t meant to be understood, its meant to be felt.”

And that’s exactly what happened.

I felt her, coursing through my veins.

Shimmering on my fingers like a constellation of stars.

Dancing like a ballerina in a cold room in the distant

corner of a mansion.

She was dusky and wild.

Like the flowers that grow on barren rocks.

She was the chill of the comets and the embers of the stars.

She was the sting of the bee and the kiss of a butterfly.

She was all the consternation I always wanted.

She was happiness wrapped in pain,

she was something that’d never go in vain.


Her skin was a bed of coals,

on a windy winter’s night.

Her eyes were like the smoldering embers,

smiting my dampened heartbeats.

Her lips were like the rugged mountains,

I wanted to conquer their peaks.

Her eyelids fluttered under the moonshine,

when my fingers caressed her heart.

I’d hear murmurs and moans,

when my fingers ran up her spine.

Our love was as taboo as blasphemy,

it was a wolf in a lion’s pride.

Our writhing flesh was a symphony.

she was the moon and I was the tide.


Bloodshot eyes and broken eyelids,

tears running down her cheeks.

Fingers clutching a dampened cigarette,

and smoke reverberating through the veins.

She stares at me with voluptuous eyes,

a lioness crouched and ready for its prey.

What was left of me were ruins,

ruins of a storm that decimated me last night.

She was a comet charging towards me.

Every stare, every glance, every touch,

was severely annihilating.

She was my doomsday.

After all this I finally knew,

why people feared an Armageddon.


Her skin was like the map of the world,

my eyes were a lonesome traveler.

As the music echoed through the room,

my eyes danced with her hips.

She twisted and turned and skipped,

a maiden in the garden of eternity.

Her hair swirling like a whirlpool,

a whirlpool that I drowned in.

My eyes caressed her as they went around the


She was the world.

And when her eyes met mine,

I found home.


These scars are windows to my soul,

deep down under the skin,

to the ruined homes and cities.

They are channels through which,

light and darkness collaborate.

She clutched my fingers and screeched,

a pain reverberated through every nerve.

She caressed those scars,

cauterizing each one with her fiery touch.

And as she approached the last scar,

I caught her by the wrist.

Pulling her towards myself,

I whispered,” Let it be. That scar is a window to

my soul.”

Farrago of Stardust

She’s the sun with all its effulgence,

she’s the moon with its gorgeous scars.

She’s the light that enters with refulgence,

she’s the brilliance of the stars.

She’s the radiant symphony of the wind chimes,

and the tenderness of the flowers.

This farrago of stardust at my door,

dances, swirls, and whirls.

She wears the moon on her fingers,

her eyes glisten like pearls.

I’ll wait till there are stars in the sky,

till the waves love the moon.

I’ll wait till the sun shines,

till the wind sings to the dunes.


You’re a taboo.

They say you’re a taboo.

Your skin is an intoxicating poison.

Your heartbeats are blasphemy.

Your eyes are a gateway to hell.

Your lips are the contrivance of Satan,

I am pietistic.

I am a pious old believer.

A staunch adherent of my faith.

A sanctimonious Pharisaic.

A church of the mosque-goers.

Our coalescence is a sin.

Our writhing can never be divine.

Our story, written on our skin,

With tattoos and an indelible shine.


Locked behind her doors,

is a silhouette of an afreet.

Unknown untouched in her virgin bosom,

lie the secrets of a dame so sweet.

One day I’ll break open her heart,

in to a promenade full of stars.

Maybe hope scampers away from her,

she’s just the moon and its scars.

She’s the epitaph on my tombstone,

in the graveyard of our destiny.

She’s the one the conquers the throne,

I’m but a lowly courtroom symphony.


The night was an ominous prince,

our lips enshrouded by the night sky.

Goodbyes and kisses in an envelope,

stuck between your thighs.

The letters you left unopened,

I burned them under the stars.

I crave the sultriness of your touch,

and the darkness that lives in your hair.

Come back once again and save me,

from this abysmal time of pain.

Come back once again and kiss me,

then leave me all broken and stained.

Garbage Dump

The dump,

people chuck their scrap.

This little girl of 12,

her eyes, a world map.

The world of survival and hate,

her hands holding a gunny.

In the society of hypocrisy and scum,

her luxury, food not money.

Your garbage, your filth,

of bigotry and discrimination.

Her life within her caste,

a universe of damnation.

You point, abuse, and scream,

expletives and all your anger.

She digests them within her,

your dross and all her hunger.

Her dreams, her desires in a clump,

in what people call,

a garbage dump.


On the fields across the horizon,

dandelions under my feet.

A myriad of trees and flowers,

under the dazzling sun’s heat.

Her voice starts echoing,

she would love the colors of the bloom.

My fingers holding her flower,

she’d wear them as a plume.

I gaze across the promenade,

my feet all trembling and weak.

I stumble across her memories,

my ardor reaching its peak.

I will come here every day,

her songs still whisper in the winds.

I will sit amongst her flowers,

her glimmering dandelions.


A darkness resides within her,

it resuscitates itself every time.

Breathing through her freckles,

inebriating her body like wine.

It lives under her eyelids,

and flowers when she cries.

It dwells within her tresses,

it feeds on love and lies.

Those lips it seems are tools,

tools as voluptuous as her voice

Rendering every attempt useless,

no matter how hard you resist.

Some call her an enigma some call her a saint.

Some say she is nefarious some say she is vain.

It doesn’t matter how much you fight,

a time will come when you’ll fall for the pain.


Puckered clothes and punctured dreams,

with regret her weary eyes gleam.

The day is over and the gloaming begins,

stories of the afternoon written on her skin.

He was a master stroke, a choice unique.

She was nothing, but a sophisticated freak.

The blankets distorted, the sunlight gleaming


the windows fluttering and her eyes all numb.

The day was moaning when he left for home,

the room was grieving and she stood there a

lonely hostess.

She had no shelter, she had no love,

she was all that people called homeless.


In the valley of the lost,

I sit scourging my restless soul.

Educing the days of the frost,

our souls were warmer than burning coal.

Our hands clutched each other strongly,

your passion always drove me wild.

Our love will always be euphoric,

like a poignant smile on the face of a child.

We wrote our legends on a dusty leaf,

in wine bottles it will float in the seas.

People say your presence weakens their knees,

but with you I forget if I even have knees.


I loved the melody of her words,

I loved her sun-kissed cheeks.

The indubitable fragrance of her scent,

I loved her coruscating silver streaks.

I loved the way she twinkles,

as if pain is just a myth.

I loved the way she would call out to me,

she’d wave and then wobble around.

I met her again after years,

in the bookstore ‘round the corner.

Her eyes gleaming with a new story,

in me her story found an author.


Scars and lashes,

you can’t see them, can you?

I washed them away that night,

with tears of anguish and perfidy.

You were ruthless and did not stop,

I was naïve, I never fought.

The body was cram-filled,

with your memories and all those songs.

When I whipped them out of my veins,

my skin sniveled and screeched.

I still hallucinate every night,

your memories spread like an epidemic.

I hear your voice and feel your fingers,

people think I’m all schizophrenic.


She looks at me and smirks.

She did to me what a storm does to a village,

what a volcano did to Pompeii.

She ho9lds my hand with vivacity,

with all the pain she holds within her.

Her words talk of ruins,

ruins of those she annihilated.

I crumble upon her presence,

she massacres without a weapon.

I ask her to let me leave,

I ask her to stop.

She never delays or belays,

she just looks at me and smirks.


As she lay by me I gazed,

at the myriad of fireflies in her eyes.

Glistening with stories and tales,

of a land untouched unsung.

Where the sea falls into the river,

where trees bloom and flowers grow.

Where people don’t have butterflies,

but many a time feel like zoos.

Where the stars come home to dine,

and the sun shines brightly at night.

All this fantasy, all those reveries,

in the eyes of this woman.

She lay by me this morning,

there was no good no bad,

no truth and no lies.

As she lay by me this morning,

there was magic in her eyes.


Her lips are just like magic,

they abut you but never perforate.

They kiss you but never love.

Her eyes are like the moonlit sky,

you can see them but never touch them.

They’ll slaughter you and spill no blood.

She herself is an enigma.

She’s a symphony with no notes,

a cacophony with no screams.

She was a dab of love and ecstasy,

a whiff of marijuana.

She liberated me from my pain,

she was what Buddhists call nirvana.


The shadows fall behind me,

like the mistakes of the past.

There isn’t a world without thee,

I am fractured soul and you’re the cast.

Surreal nightmares and dreams in vain,

cauterize the wounds you gave.

In the midst of this malarkey and this pain,

it’s my soul to be lost and love to gain.

All these voices and these screams,

all this chaos between this fray.

They are nothing but broken dreams,

and the words that I couldn’t say.

You resigned too fast, too early, too soon,

my heart doesn’t throb that fast.

Till the sun shines and the moon wanes,

I’ll stand there, a fractured soul with a broken cast.


उसके रूह की ऩाकीज़गी तो देखो,

परयश्ते बी अऩना सय झुकाते है.

कहते है रोग खुदा यहता है उसभे साददक़

पयज़ॊद-ए-आदभ उसे भाॉ फुराते है.

हर मर्तबा

भौत औय भोहब्फत एक से रगते है हभको,

हकीकत भें आते है ससपफ एक भतफफा।

जान हल्क भें अटक जाती है साददक हभायी,

वो भुस्कुया देती है सहभ जफ हय भतफफा।


कुछ रफ्ज़ो से फमाॊ न कय अफ तू,

तू हय सू योशनी सी ननखय जाती है।

फन्दों को महाॉ खुदा नहीॊ सभरता साददक़,

औय तुझसे खुदा को फॊदगी सभर जाती है।

[* कश्मकश*]

उन ससरवटों भें ढूॊढा फोहोत,

उन आइनो भें झाका फोहोत।

कई योज़ आफ़ताफ से गुफ्तगू कय री,

हभने अल्राह के दयफाय भें नौकयी कय री।

कही सभरा न आसशक़ उस्सा साददक़।

हभने उसी कश्भकश भें उससे भोहब्फत कय री।


इतनी ताकत न थी की कुछ कह सके हभ,

कई फाय उसके दय से फेकयाय आ गए।

फनकय कागज़ ऩे सूयत उसकी,

सोचा इसी तस्वीय से भोहब्फत कय रे,

ऩय वहा बी उसके खयीदाय गए।


कुछ साज़ गए थे जो तयाने फन गए,

कुछ दोस्त फनाए थे जो फेगाने फन गए।

कुछ रफ्ज़ सरख कय छोड़ ददए थे कागज़ ऩय साददक़,

न जाने कफ वो शेय अफ़साने फन गए।


फपय ढूॊढेंगे फकसी आसशक़ का भकान,

कोई भकसद देदे एक दपा फपय आफाद होने का।

कय रेंगे हभ बी फपय से भोहब्फत साददक़,

कोई हौसरा देदे एक दपा फपय फफाफद होने का।


वो झूभती है तो झूभते हो तुभ साथ उसके,

तुभ खुर जाओ तो हुस्न की फारयश कय दो।

फकतने कयीफ यहते हो उसके होंठो के तुभ,

ए ज़ुल्पो कबी हभायी बी ससपारयश कय दो।


तेयी आॉखों को देखा तो झूभने रगे हभ,

इन ननगाहो भें झूभी सददमाॉ तभाभ है।

इन ननगाहो को झुक रीजजए भोहतयभा,

कहते है भेये भज़हफ भें नशा हयाभ है।


रोग भॊददय भजस्जद भें ढूॊढ यहे है खासरक को,

हभने तो उसके आॉचर भें ही खुद का सम देखा है।

रोग कई हज कय कय हाजी केहरए साददक़,

हभने तो भाॉ के दाभन भें ही काफा द्ख है।


तेये रफ्ज़ो से आज हभ मे ऩैभाना बयेंगे,

तेयी मादों से हभ मुही योशन भयेंगे।

हभ फेख़ौफ़ टकयाएॊगे तूफ़ान से,

तबी तो रोग हभे तेया दीवाना कहेंगे।

कबी आना फकसी शफ भेये दय ऩे तू,

सशद्दत से तेये होंठो ऩे अऩना अपसाना सरखेंगे।


भैं गा नहीॊ सकता ऩय तू भेया साज़ फन जा,

भैं फताऊ सफको तू ऐसा याज़ फन जा।

भैं चाहता हूॉ तू भोहब्फत भें मु खो जामे,

भैं गूॊगा याहु तू फस भेया अरफ़ाज़ फन जा।

ददत की ककर्ाब

भेये आयज़ू एक नतरसभराता सा ख्वाफ है,

भेयी भोहब्फत भेयी तन्हाई का सवाफ है।

भेये ददफ का अॊदाजा न रगा तू साददक़,

ददर का हय ऩन्ना ददफ की फकताफ है।

[*ससफत *]

भुझे इश्क़ है ससपफ रोगो के एहसास से,

ऐसे रोग तो ससपफ हभे ख्वाफो भें सभरते है।

कहते है वो ससपफ इश्क के सरए जीते है,

ऐसे रोग तो ससपफ हभे फकताफो भें सभरते है।


कर यात भैंने दुआओ का एक तूफ़ान देखा था,

औय अगरी सुफह चरता फपताफ अज़ान देखा था।

भैं जफ बी योमा उसकी आॉखों को ऩयेशान देखा है,

उसकी आॉखों ने तो भुझको हय वक्त नादाॊ देखा है।

जफ वो चरती थी कबी यास्तो ऩे तनहा,

भैंने ऩीछे उसके परयश्तो का कायवाॊ देखा है।

वक्त की आॊधी चरती थी जफ बी ज़ोयो शोयो से,

सय ढॊकने के सरए हभने उसी का भकान देखा है।

जफ बी देखख फकसी के रैफ ऩे दुआ होने सरए,

उन रफो ऩे हय वक्त उसी का उन्वान देखा है।

कबी सससकते हभ टूट कय उसकी गॉड भें,

हभ ने उसके ददर को हय ववकत हैयान देखा था।

भई बफखय कय योमा था फोहोत उस ददन,

जफ भाॉ से जुड़ा कोई जहाॊ देखा था।


Rooh-e-Sadiq is about English poems. The poems are inspired from common and everyday life people. They cover topics of love, motherhood, religion, souls, and many more.

  • Author: Sadiq
  • Published: 2016-07-18 15:05:07
  • Words: 2907
Rooh-e-Sadiq Rooh-e-Sadiq