Today, A Phantom. (A Triolet)

Heavy it lays upon my heart,
that today is a morrows past,
what there is now, an end, -a start,
heavy it lays upon my heart,
tragic mask when does break apart,
bleak, oh! Gloomy shadows it cast.
Heavy it lays upon my heart,
that today is a morrows past.

R.N.Khan, © 2011

poem by Raja Nosherwan
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The Two States of Love.

Yes, hidden is the partial tale,
from a heart that awakens not,
may love enthrall uprooted plants,
but, not a man that love forgot.
As we all are born -a yesterday,
we too are so, when today do tread,
and shall carry on with this delay,
until a lover's sweet words be said.

And morbid if my heart does turn,
a place with spiral toxic cold,
where tears do crowed the rivulets,
would the wet air my sighing hold;
So if sorrow such on my behalf,
does tear apart, a haunted chest,
Still, her name would be my epitaph,
And her love the ever staying guest.

R.N.Khan, © 2012

poem by Raja Nosherwan
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An Apology to My Homeland, 'The Forgotten Motto'.

Use not my land the ending words,
Not when your sons are at decay,
In past what roams, -though never lasts
Trust shall yet ne'er shun to play.
Years to endure may many seem,
Frights may just veil the path ahead,
As slaves to you, can never bear,
Immortal fruits, -its wine, or bread.
Tyrants to you have wanton shame,
How can they have these bones to dare!
Don't people of now, -as of yesterday,
In only morrows labor care?
Scarce we realize, in our pride,
Curse this freedom to be a bluff,
If cant control my growing hole,
Pity! should graves, or men be tough?
Long In my quelling, did not know,
I a burden, to land be just
Now confess it, with sorrow say:
'Each man you made, were fed with lust'

poem by Raja Nosherwan
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Oh! Patience, My Love.

Both, my eyes; have hit an unknown storm -
the undoer of my marry Spring,
beneath my brow, is a gushing form,
did a drench'd cheek -to a yearner bring.
my auguries, that once blessed with love,
have gales become, for a trial of;
the touchstone of my faithful shape -
the loyal shadow, when future rake,
does my pain emit, a cunning drape,
that when praise of love, the evils shake;
still, endure this I, to phase submit,
but, wit, my wit -is my patience fit,
are my gardens, for these storms to reave,
the fruits to come -of better degree;
Or will steadfast be love, if believe,
in shade of the fruitless, standing tree.
Maybe, the grandeur of love is not grand
unless we bear -our share of pains at hand.

R.N.Khan, © 2011

poem by Raja Nosherwan
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Blessed With An Angel. (At A Cousins Birth)

Oh! the splendor of the heaven sleeps,
while the Lord him in his shelter keeps.

The comets don't the skies appall,
when falling to a prayer please,
a longing cradle when does call,
to a blazing wish that may cease,
the trial of years -an angel form
when shadowed by a silent storm,
an enigma that with men is bound,
has atoned it so an angel bright,
who could had not a beacon found,
if blessed its fire with all the light
of the skies that do the stars adhere
or the shinning suns of mortal sphere.
Some blessings are a worldly rhyme,
for those are which our needs defeat,
a gift of Lord is a heavens chime,
and this is what our lives complete;
now the air is dipped in a flare of joy-

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A Farewell To The Travelers (On The Bhoja Airlines Plane Crash)

With pace does darkness conquer light,
when mounts the sun the dying toll,
spied an aura grim my wistful sight,
for had poisoned all, a single bowl;
captive of death as it life betrayed,
the awakened -to the resting prayed,
'Oh! Farewell the mornings vanished pole'.

Life comes with such a temporal mien,
has it plucked the wings of future how,
though pillows of respite -I had seen,
but these feathers do no sleep allow;
do fly swift! The binders of this cause,
your pause of age, is our ageless pause-
'So, farewell the birds of heavens now'.

But, soul a machine that does not cease,
yet it fools us from our time of birth;
pass on, move towards the restful peace,
but, secluded stays its pensive worth;

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poem by Raja Nosherwan
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The Reality of A Dream.

The poison crown that bound my head,
did bring a sober theme,
'all the less, is of loving said,
a dream is left a dream'.

So in my strength, I broke the ring,
with all the fair alarms,
as crownless was a lovers king,
a king -to loving arms.

I feared now not, the roaring hall,
equivalent to decay,
but all the wealth to me was pall,
the poison and -delay.

Days on which we as winters wept,
Do rest those silver trees,
the suns that had us burning kept,
now dance the summers breeze.

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Few Days Of Love.

If two days are what a soul receives,
are those days for loving adequate,
when a blissful spring, the garden leaves-
is the right response to blame the fate.

When two days are all a soul does need
such a trek cant deem a lover then,
might consume us all our bodies greed
and give this world more lonely men.

For two days are what a soul had found,
should the love regret this painful grant,
to a lucid dream the trueness bound
while in craving that which have you cant.

Why two days are what my soul did bring!
and did bring with them, the perfect love,
I have embraced it like a gifted wind
and embraced would die, in fleeting of.

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poem by Raja Nosherwan
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A Hopeless Being.

Oh Lord! Before in hell forsake,
dreams do remove from all the men;
strip them, their hope away do take,
or shall in hell rebel again.

The dreams I dream they aren't mine,
but of that learner courting hope,
at nightfall are a humble shrine,
in peaceful slumber envelop.
do in sleep obscure visions come,
while vulnerable am I whole,
the hostile sights my heart do thrum,
in mixed melody is my soul;
their beauty what does signify,
and those faces that are ne'er real!
Now do our breaths they dignify
or do negate all -that we feel.
Is poor most a dreamless being,
with flightless nights and yearnings sour,
his curse is a mind of stable seeing,

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poem by Raja Nosherwan
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Forgiving The Unforgivable.

I held my peace and sung a song,
that echoed through the righteous hall,
my right, my truth, all put to wrong!
As judgment fine had met the pall.

How can there be a better way,
to tell the world of foul play,
than those, your words, that captivate,
and that, my looks, you separate;
your lies, your tricks, my punishment!
In years to come a sure lament;
but life shall only last its days,
until the sun these men does gaze;
then deeds shall bind our spirits such,
would implore it the heaven's touch,
so again shall meet face to face,
when shattered is the time and space,
there I shall pardon and forgive,
as not in this dimension live,
and from this burden be relieved,

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poem by Raja Nosherwan
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