Shahzada Imtiaz Ali Poems

A man may strive with all his strength and care,
To shape his bride with gentle, guiding hand.
He speaks with hope, yet finds she's unaware,
His words like footprints washed from softest sand.
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atan drank no wine, played no game,
He knew God's oneness, praised His name.
No theft, no lie, no shameful deed,
But pride alone destroyed his creed.
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I care too much, I give too deep,
While others smile and secrets keep.
I hold my friends in heart so wide,
Yet day by day, I'm hurt inside.
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Mortal, it must be.
Have many ways,
to express life.
Let me teach you one.
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And now...
Where do i find?
The folk
Who did love...
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Tired of trying and sick of crying,
Still smiling, but inside dying...
Could this be a life?
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A silent sigh beneath the roof I keep,
Where laughter once would sing me into sleep.
Now voices rise like storms without a name,
And gentle words dissolve in bitter flame.
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Just a few puffs of air, so slight to share,
A vast realm of ideas, beyond all compare;
The dreams and all woes, which silently grow,
But death, it arrives with a powerful blow.
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The more you look, the less you see,
A strange truth — can you watch your eyes?
And the thing closest to your soul,
Why is it hated? Can they tell why?
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Lives drift apart from their very souls,
Women walk, children laugh and play.
But whom shall I run and tell today?
Leukemia lives, quietly digging holes.
...