Hina Rabbani Khar creates fashion buzz

Hina Rabbani Khar creates fashion buzz

My corrugated face

There was a rainbow mentioned

in all my stories

There were endless love stories

with puny princes

There were sunflowers

enthralled by swooning princesses

Ants tripping on pieces of jaggery

Sweet bells in temples tottery

In a lonesome corner

Grandmothers

being catty with their Gods

in their warm checkered quilts

Leaves and earth

Being made to mate

by warm rains and

a hedonistic wind

Men playing with shingles and nails

Soaking rags into a drain

Nodding to loud wedding songs

Swatting busy flies

Desiring each others wives

You are at fault Mother

Jolting my body

at sunset

Making me swot

At books that teach poetry

Reading up wars, famine, death and gore

Now look at me

endlessly insomniac

trying to scrape at

My corrugated face

Titular sadness

Tilt of the head

Up or sideways

Brings into view

the world

Sun, rain and storm

droll regular pigeons

in happy form

dueling with koyels

Shafts and beams

unfinished structures

upwardly mobile

eventually solid

stale afternoons

looking forward

to wet nights

no power cuts

faraway dreams

money-less pockets

desires nestled snug

in creative sockets

Common Nouns

There was a fish

blue, yellow and

dotted with spots

riding a watery haze

She looked pretty

with a soft fin

that saw one

through and

through

I asked

"What type"

"What breed"

"What do her colours mean"

The man at the

fishy aquarium

looked over once

then twice

He is a fish

She there, is a fish too

This one,

curled around itself

It is a fish too

They are all fish

he then walked

into the sea

the watery

chatterbox

parched

blurry sea

Anger, Marriage and Water

A young woman

of fifty six

gets up on time

for a bucket

to fill

She sweats

and huffs at

her husband

with pursed lips

and dragon gaze

The water trickles

molds into

murderous thoughts

some at the authorities

some at her husband

some at the world in general

The husband stirs

his gut

already awake

to the young woman's

pallid ire

He stoops on purpose

to show surrender

to flimsy water

and his mad woman

thus continues

his weary bond

with water and

the young woman

he married thirty three

years yesterday

tomorrow

there is hope

for water gutsy

for a smile

bereft of murder

Heat and Dust

The grime settles

in between the bars

of my gritty teeth

I sigh at the road

Scraped knees

and errant bees

golden dust

clouds that must

ruin an evening race

or transform

into a football field

with sloppy teens

a soft romantic

I have been

with squashed lilies

in a naughty breeze

now a cynic

with arms so plump

bad breath

and grumpy roads

now a cynic

in arid grace

a sore cough

in dark bylanes

Romance and 3 cups of tea

Leftovers from a

well slept in Sunday

so rich, so dense

I carry them to

This Tuesday morning

Gurgling my phlegm

From cigarettes stale

From a long lost love

I ache and ail

A boy, rather a persona

I loved and wanted

Came to me

In my first cup

of dark brown tea

As I sipped, I longed

To chore on memories

of a Sunday yore

On Marine Drive

In the rains

this persona took my

Palms in his and

asked me for my dreams

I readily gave in

To his charm

and raw wit

I shook and stared

At his boyish hands

They looked at me with

Unbridled warmth

His lip quivered

from cold winds and sea

he asked me

"Tea?"

I locked my locks

behind an ear

hoping to catch his gaze

which so unmasked

my clothed heart

He asked me with a start

"Will you be with me

while I walk?"

I took his lead and

stepped with step

he looked ahead

but smiled within

at my hair blowing

In the wind

This tuesday

is far ahead in time

I look at

His hands

and try to rhyme

his life with mine

He offers me a cloudy cup

I whisper and I recline

I kiss away my week goodbye

and dwell already

on Sunday divine.