Syed Mustafa Ahmad
Another Autumn has come,
to haunt us again.
Same sighs and worthy pleas
Striking the firmament to fall silently.
Pale leaves trampled out of shape
Carried away by the blood thirsty winds here and there.
Lifeless trees moving to be called living;
Otherwise, the chests are too cold to be called alive.
Paddy fields are dead and the pigeons find cereals.
We are dead and enemies look for identities to cremate or bury or exile.
Graves are fertile but barren in Autumn!
No, the parched graveyards are refreshed with hot blood again and again.
Nights are long and dark and the dogs are to bark
Lovers want to come in the night;
only to get frightened.
Missing is story, missing is character.
Missing is Spring, missing is life.
Beloved are reminded in this season
The green wounds begin to drip blood to quench the thrust of the Earth.
The Earth is thirsty and wants us to die
The hot blood, she needs to smear over itself and laughter in mirth.
Half-widows are mad and mad are widows.
Autumn is pain, pain is Autumn!
The poet hails from Hajibagh, Zainakote, Srinagar. He is an author at ASNAAV ( an online application), can be mailed at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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