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I sent my senses
out across the galaxy...
From the farthest corners
to highest peaks
to deepest caverns
I sent my defences
in the other direction
knocking walls
between thoughts, feelings, reveries
rummaging through memories

The squads returned empty
having wreaked havoc
inside and out

In the meantime
inspiration called, and left
appalled  
to find me absent.

A.
7.12.18
#truestory
#missedcalls
Writers life, inspiration
With what I see, I draft a sketch
(and not how it should be)
I fill details, with all your loves
minutiae like Versailles, and such
colour here, a sculpture
there, a broken heart, alcoves
wainscotted with toil(e). some
envy carvings, poetry: a decoupage
of words,
said over years, re-cited
into countless tears,
ripened ensilage and patterns
recognised surprise,
through my hand I trace a line.
How I see, what I beget, is
defined as mine
stand and be yourself
through traffic, silence, and mindset
and if you don’t remember, know
that I do.not forget.
Love is curation.
a thought diary:

Now the ratio of exhaustion and ambition is just right
Now the need to respond to each stimulus is subdued
How the curtains have cleared between sight and insight
How the walls have crumbled on each lofty feud
————————————————-

All this while, time unwinds with its every revolution
And the axis of the roll is tethered to rest
Whosoever can withstand the decree of absolution
Will remain unperturbed with the purpose of the test
—————————————————-

From the cafe-fed pigeons and the debris-drunken bees
To the mendicants and paupers on the streets of the famed
I do ponder the encounters that happen in your being
Some I know, still there are all the countless and unnamed
—————————————————-

On the ripples in Danube river scribbled with light
The distinct reflection of serene Budapest
And the splendour of adsorbing all dimensions of ‘might’
Till you don’t have to prove yourself to the rest
——————————————————

On your face, I can trace , all the lines of an epic
Every fold is two sided: one gory and one glory
I chose love, all above, for in the maze of theoretic
There are so many ways to tell the same story
—————————————————

It’s what I learn in struggle that I convey in song
What I earn in endurance , I adorn in grace
Thus every gain, with its pain, does truly belong
One has to burn in the soul to light up ones face
————————————————-

You have the same hospitality for all your guests
Whoever loves you more, will perceive more of you
It’s the lived experience that defines the quest
It’s the intent, not content that sanctifies Wudu
—————————————————-

But still I wonder all the loves that embellish your ways
And the promises in your narratives that echoingly roam
the same streets I tread and the same night and days
As I lose myself in you while I’m looking for my home
—————————————————-

Travel is a state of mind, and home, a station of the heart
How far we go is measured from where we start
You’ll see, in the trajectory of an encircling path
Aein, our beginnings and ends are never apart.

©️Arshia.
18.8.18
Budapest
گزر کر ساری جہتوں سے وہیں پر عین آ پہنچی
تمہارے تک مسافت میں نیا چکر سہی ، ہمدم

Having traversed all dimension, I’m back where I began
Oh beloved, in my journey towards you, hence starts another span

Couplet and translation. ( mine)
Fluttering by
Quivering by
Oscillating their coloured wings
The delicate butterflies of my poems
From one thought to the other
On the branch of words
Come, pause, rest, and fly away
A moment here
A moment there
And then who knows where
And in their pursuit, with every breath
From one motif to the next
From one night to the other
I run around, armed with the net of imagination
So that I may touch them
With the softness of the caress, my fingers
Tremblingly
Reach their tips....
They disperse their iridescence
On my hands
And instantaneously
Fly away some where else...  

Poem and translation: ©️Arshia.
پھڑپھڑاتی ہوئی
لہلہاتی ہوئی
اپنے رنگیں پروں کو ہلاتی ہوئی
میری نظموں کی نازک سی یہ تتلیاں
سوچ سے سوچ تک
لفظ کی ڈال پر
آکے رکتی، ٹھہرتی، بہکتی چلیں
ایک لحظہ یہاں
ایک لحظہ وہاں
پھر نہ جانے کہاں
اور ان کے تعاقب میں میں دم بدم
بات سے بات تک
رات سے رات تک
جال لے کر تخیل کا بھاگی پھروں
کہ انہیں چھو سکوں
لمس کی نازکی سے مری انگلیاں
کپکپاتی ہوئی
ان سے جا کر ملیں
تو وہ اپنی دھنک
چھوڑ کر ہاتھ پر
آن کی آن میں
اور کہیں چل پڑیں۔۔۔۔

ع
۲۔۹۔۱۶

Fluttering by
Quivering by
Oscillating their coloured wings
The delicate butterflies of my poems
From one thought to the other
On the branch of words
Come, pause, rest, and fly away
A moment here
A moment there
And then who knows where
And in their pursuit, with every breath
From one topic to the next
From one night to the other
I run around ,
armed with the net of imagination
So that I may touch them
With the softness of the caress, my fingers
Tremblingly
Reach their tips ....
They disperse their iridescence
On my hands
And instantaneously
Fly away some where else...  

Poem and translation: ©️Arshia.
عین یہ شیشے کی نگری، نقص گننا چھوڑ دے !
جو دِکھیں اوروں میں ہوں نہ خود تمہارے دیکھنا

Aein, this is a house of mirrors, stop counting who is defected
Flaws you see in others, may just be your own, reflected!

Urdu couplet and translation, ©️Arshia
#mytranslation.
This is what love does....
It makes you see
the resolve behind the result
the drudge behind the demeanor
the struggle behind the strength
and to what all the ache amounts.
This is what love does
It makes you aware
right there
where it counts.
A.
9.9.18
When I saw my mom’s picture where she’s dressed up to go to a students reunion after having been housebound for 9 months since she broke her leg.
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