ASIF SULTAN MATTA

Words and tears Asif Sultan Matta 01-01-2017. My pen, a sickle, that slits my veins Muck of despair it always drains Bled-muck dances and sings with me A song of delight and harmony They say, "the tears are heart's blood". Why then still aches when all been shed? The two wells dry and poetry cries Words do revive my heart, when dies. Verses and lines I adore to craft Lighten my onus, when none is left My pen does leak the obstruction And flows the pain of destruction Nàive am I in drafting the poems Do I learn from my own glooms.

Lost in a subtle metaphor Asif Sultan Matta 31st December 2016 Battling to compare my laden heart's weight with which that could show its state I fail to link it with that you're familiar, To reveal it's shrewd hiding traits How would I show a kid, how Noah's flood seemed, Rushing rivers and raging seas can't such intensity create; Should I compare it with tumbling trees in gale? Or shaken with wild deluge, a dashed flood-gate? Lost I am in subtle metaphors of life Too naive to portray my abject state...

Rhyme and harmony Asif Sultan Matta 30 December 2016 Oppresed heart, fatigued eyes and numbed soul: Regret on fury, or pain of betrayal; Struggle to win, always I fail Plenty love gestures play no role Days of blossoms fade very fast, Motifs in 'em seem no more bright, Sweet lurid day turn scary night, Guilt: desire, of now; or remark, of past Desire: should I be loved the way I love; Remark: love not the way she had been loved, They bring fury and turn him wild, Remorse and pain beneath him and above. May fire of my love burn her all remark And rhyme with my desire, harmony it embark.