The struggle for existence

The struggle for existence

The struggle for existence

The struggle for existence , My Poems , Some Heart Touching Words , A heart Touching Poem

In the dangling electric-supply wires

and the dim, corroded lamp

perched atop the telephone pole

with its pallor barely touching the ground;

And the swirling snakes of water

which slip down the chipped red-brick slopes

and are arrested suddenly by the coal-tar road;

And the lid-less, gaping gutter-holes

vomiting frequent throngs of roaches

who tread the scarce grass blades

bordering the moist leaks in the ground;

And the foul smell that glides across the land ‘ere

tugging at the rugged walls and dingy buildings

sneaking under the ugly gates

and into the oppressive, nearly non-existent verandas;

And in the endless din of useless discussions

gossip and grocery talk

earnest commitments

of saving a penny here, a dime there

only to eventually indulge in one last extravaganza;

In this do I find beauty

a beauty that mesmerises

with the verity of its naked truth

its bare bones, starched of the drapes and false apparels

fleshless bones of a bony vulture

that stands true to the what begets it

and feeds upon it, ravenously

the struggle for existence

 Salmanaltaf.wordpress.com

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Fickle hopes

Fickle hopes

My lyrics dismantle
On the work-desk
Against the clock’s tick-tock
The pen frisking
Across the bare paper
The lantern hanging low
And a ghastly pallor
Pouring silent gloom
Dissolving into my mind
The cracking glass-panes
Under the times’ banes
Sounds of you
Still in that air
Me still there
Upon that chair
Still collecting shards
Of my broken dreams
Still searching past
In the cold

‘The Toil’ An Heart Touching Poem

The orange spills upon the eastward canvas

And a pale white shades the night’s mantle

The wind’s worn of a cold glide

And shudders anew on the gold pastel

The trees, still bowed in the night-full stupor

Sway with the gentle, caressing breeze

The mighty orb gains the reign

And hither shall the dark’s rule cease

The thin haze in the air, lowly drifting

Dissolves and the virgin dew trickle shy

Downwards, into deeper folds

Up the welkin’s a crystal blue ball

Washed anew in the mighty glory

And in its bosom, few tufts of fluff

Promise the day thin shades ahead

And as the day lives on, vivified and stark now

Life shrugs off many a faces

And toils yet again for the thread of breaths

*Salman Altaf*

Published originally in Us magazine, The News on May 7, 2010

Seeking You

Seeking You

I stand by the road, by the brimming stream of life flowing across the gray line – unstoppable, like the life itself. And as uncertain.

By the other side of greyness, you stand – a hand in your pocket, a smile at your face and a smug expression wearing your countenance. Always the calm you. You steal a quick glance my way and meaningfully tear it away – back to the book in your hands.
The current flows by in an incessant flow.

I wish to move across. The want for closeness arrests me. Unknowingly, unwillingly, I am drawn to you. Addicted to you. You pull me like nothing else does. Even in the mundane look of yours lies a deeper meaning which makes you the only one with so profound an importance – and in that crowd, amidst all the noise and colors, you stand alleviated.

I keep my eyes at you, savoring every moment of the veil undone, of a reality manifest. Just like every time, it’s timeless.

And then you’re gone. Dissolved into thin air like the ethereal nothingness.

In my feeble attempt, I desperately try to find you. Between the shifting, moving slots of visibility, between the gush of flowing life, I could still see the exact place you’d been occupying a while ago. But now, it’s just the stone pavement looking blankly back at me. I try to gather the streak of memory you just granted – and it’s no longer. Gone like a line erased off the pages of my mind. I stand there, looking at nothing. And then, admonishing me for my stupid gawking, I move off on a slow pace. Back to life. Back to my stupid life.

And in the back-street of a dark alley, you laugh hysterically at my ignorance.

Unexplainable Feelings , Some heart Touching Words

* Air Blue Crash * – Heart Tearing Story Of a Young Widower !

Air Blue Crash – Heart Touching Story Of a Young Widower

Incident – Air Blue Crash
Date – 28 July 2010
Flight- Airblue 202
One year has passed.. Ammi said its your “Barsi” this week.. I am shattered.. I really want to yell.. I want to cry.. but my eyes are dry.. I cant weep anymore Ali.. I just cant moan any more.. I just cant forget those 4 months of our married life.. those 4 months.. the summary of my whole life.. The full stop on my Smile.. Now I am a widower and a mother of a daughter..!

How fast the time flew..
From Miss to Mrs.… From Mrs. to Widower… and now a widow mother..! all in one year..!

I feel afraid to recall that day.. but I am so helpless… How can I forget 28 July 2010… ??? This day marked scars on my soul..
That was a fine morning.. You left for airport.. I still remember that u asked me to finish your cup of tea.. I was thinking you must have reached.. I called u again and again.. U didn’t receive.. I just hate this habit of yours.. u never receive my call on the first ring.. I threw my cell.. and switched on the TV..
Morning Shows.. Film.. Cooking show.. Drama.. I had so many choices..While switching the channels.. I got stunned… my hands shivered.. Islamabad… rainy weather..Margalla Hills.. air blue crash… crashed..?!
My husband… Ali….seat number J 21..
I fainted..
I didn’t know what to do.. I got paralyzed.. I became dumb.. I prayed a lot.. and after few hours.. your name started blinking on the screen.. U survived…. U died..!?
I was such a liar.. I used to say that I’ll die without you.. see how stubborn I am.. my heart still beats.. I still breathe.. I am still alive..
Seems like time has stopped..
That air blue crash left so many emotional scars on my soul… I am alive.. I am dead.. I live daily.. I die daily.. I feel like coming to you.. but this little Dua stops me to do so..!
Ali..We have a daughter now.. I named her “Dua-e-Ali”.. she is your Dua… Dua is Just like you.. Same smile.. same eyes.. same forehead..I scatter into pieces.. when someone calls Dua “Orphan”.. Ali, come back… you daughter has started saying baba.. baba..

Ali, I cant face this world.. I need you.. Only you..! Ali….! I am so alone.. kill this loneliness…receive my call… hold Dua in your arms.. hold my hand and give me a tight hug.. I miss you..I need you.. I need your shoulders to cry on … Without you… I am nothing.. I am blind, I am deaf, I am dumb.. I am paralyzed.. Come back.. Come back..! I need my smile back..
Shivers go through my spine whenever I think of your funeral… I am a bird in a cage.. I wana fly.. Lemme fly..

*Every night in my dreams
I see you, I feel you
That is how I know you go on.

Far across the distance
and spaces between us
You have come to show you go on*

[A true story of a 23 years old widow mother…]

When life goes on

And Life Goes On

The days have passed swiftly and nights have dragged on, morosely.

And I have seen – I have seen winters wither and summers bloom and dreams grow anew every spring. I have seen the dingy ceilings, stifling the air in it’s own arrest. And the heavenly meadows under an overcast sky, laden with flowers, colourful, and the grass, green, which sways with the gentlest breeze as if dancing to the symphony of time. And I have seen life shine in the mischievous sheen of your eyes when you smile.

I have seen days of optimism when everything entices you on to victory. And days when you give up on your dreams as the bitter reality hits you hard in the face. And you wake up from the cozy seat of your car to realize how harsh the wind is when the glass breaks. And the blood, when it trickles down, how it numbs all feeling of horror and fear and all your sensations try hard to concentrate on that far-away, blurred, blurring notion of something, somewhere that was once so beautiful that you had thought that it would suffice. And then, when the grief gushes and pours forth, tearing apart your restraints. But that too passes, and with a sigh, you give up…

…only to rise the next day with a renewed rigour and hope. And in this oscillation between hope and uncertainly, pure joy and dull misery, tiredness emanating from it all and at it’s consummation, another sense of fulfilment…amid it all, life goes on..