a minor, c, d. what have i become?
She said:
If from today you feed the needy, clothe the wretched, aid the blind,
If from this day you slake all demons, settle dues and pay in kind,
That when you age and age you shall, the Lord finds it in his grace,
To keep the acrid signs of loneliness from showing on your face…
He said:
Forgive this weary traveler; he never knows quite what to say.
He struts and sprints for moonlit hours and sells praises by the day,
But we’re past the point reprieve is showered, I think I heard a madman say,
When paths divulged in blazing forests, he often took the drifters’ way.
She said:
I’m sure I’ve heard this symbolic rant, a thousand times before,
It doesn’t make me sing with joy, it does not make me soar,
You think that you can make amends, snap life into the dead,
You need a heart of gold, o traveler, and yours is made of lead.
He said:
If you know all, then tell me this, what is my purest form?
Do I submit to baseless calling, or do I weather out this storm?
Am I a footnote for learned scholars?
Am I a title for tactless fools?
Am I the zeitgeist of my people?
A stalwart of laws and rules?
Am I the sheep in hordes of demons
Or the saint in a packs of thieves?
Will I duck and run for cover
Or will I stand tall and still believe?
But the crows draw neigh and this winter breeze leaves me hollow on my knees.
So take my hand, and save my soul, before time and tide can take their toll.
She said:
This setting is cursed, with us eons away,
The scores have been set for the ultimate play,
I will tell you no answers, and so I’ll tell no lies,
When it burns out to dust, in reality, like the thorn bird, the supernova cries…
Azam Noon ’09.
If from today you feed the needy, clothe the wretched, aid the blind,
If from this day you slake all demons, settle dues and pay in kind,
That when you age and age you shall, the Lord finds it in his grace,
To keep the acrid signs of loneliness from showing on your face…
He said:
Forgive this weary traveler; he never knows quite what to say.
He struts and sprints for moonlit hours and sells praises by the day,
But we’re past the point reprieve is showered, I think I heard a madman say,
When paths divulged in blazing forests, he often took the drifters’ way.
She said:
I’m sure I’ve heard this symbolic rant, a thousand times before,
It doesn’t make me sing with joy, it does not make me soar,
You think that you can make amends, snap life into the dead,
You need a heart of gold, o traveler, and yours is made of lead.
He said:
If you know all, then tell me this, what is my purest form?
Do I submit to baseless calling, or do I weather out this storm?
Am I a footnote for learned scholars?
Am I a title for tactless fools?
Am I the zeitgeist of my people?
A stalwart of laws and rules?
Am I the sheep in hordes of demons
Or the saint in a packs of thieves?
Will I duck and run for cover
Or will I stand tall and still believe?
But the crows draw neigh and this winter breeze leaves me hollow on my knees.
So take my hand, and save my soul, before time and tide can take their toll.
She said:
This setting is cursed, with us eons away,
The scores have been set for the ultimate play,
I will tell you no answers, and so I’ll tell no lies,
When it burns out to dust, in reality, like the thorn bird, the supernova cries…
Azam Noon ’09.
posted by Azam at 6:50 PM
19 Comments:
i thought it was the fire bird.
More from the same well of cynicism. I love unchanging reflections. Change is so predictable.
refers to a mythical bird that searches for thorn trees from the day it is hatched. When it finds the perfect thorn, it impales itself, and sings the most beautiful song ever heard as it dies.
how ironic.
you really hate my guts, don't you?! :D :D
the song of the thorn bird should be the next post.
chirp chirp tweet. ouch.
tumharay par bith kar ke hi maroon ga!! :D
for when this thorn bird shits in your eye, don't crib, don't cry... just thank god that cows don't fly.
is the shit thorny?
i'm feeding the fire, aren't i?
take care anony. be sound.
Since the thorn bird is a meta-fur for emo kiddies, does it cut itself?
anon-do
thorny shit = the speedbreakers in garden town.
brave-o
This comment has been removed by the author.
Cant be footnotes, although we'd have to work harder to be just that but it isn't nearly enough.
Just read this, i posted something after the longest time. We have too many questions! What will be our end?
I dont know what ticks me off the most; the waiting for answers or the fact that life is still going by at a seemingly faster rate while i wait for those answers? Then theres the possibilities that there are no answers.
update pliss.
Come on then! Every day that this page is not updated, I think about that plate of biryani that I could never have (finitely). Put me out of my misery.
I loved. :)
why else do you think I comment. heh.
Just that the writing style didn't keep up with her last say. Nevertheless haven't read something this good in a while.
thanks hafsa. i'm glad you liked it. her last say :) is the most important. thats why its not in keeping with the rest of the poem.
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