ASIF SULTAN MATTA

 Life sans life 05-01-2021 Your life, Innocent and pure As a child- That sucks the marrow Of joy from the ordinary trips of ants' tendem, Experiences ecstacy In slurping the droopy icecream,  And deems himself successful  When stone, launched off his tender hands, Clangs street-light pole- Is in 'careful' peril. The sage on stage Is whispering in ears The cacophony of motivation. Stirring you up  off your ''ordinary'' Cot,  Spelling a dream  Of an extraordinary bed. What is now left In the vale of life? "Just fear," I say "And life sans Life." ©Asif Sultan

Dream 03-01-2020 What relief that the world's a mortal! Yearning am I for its end Dwell with you there, O bygone, Fairly pledged you for that tryst: Of the bliss that God gave me glimpse Of devinely joy in this life, Of the aid that made me prostrate With calm, before Almighty, the Great.  I dream of the resurrection, His mercy's full reflection Envelops sinners- like you and me Touches us with eternity  Thus witness then I thy face 'Twas veiled away by the race Of test of the miserable world Lays that before us now unfurled.  Tests of life were no more test Were you to in my arms rest Can that be ever possible  That this life be sans troubles?  Never can be so now in truth That heart can find that sooth Our only consolation Is the dream of resurrection.  ©Asif Sultan

Half full Inkpot 02-01-2021 Smudges spread on the leaf of life Of the upset half inkpot. On the ugly leaf my sight does perch And flies to the half-full inkpot: The hue of black clung bare glass,  Dribles to the still ink of dark "Can pen down I the loftiness?" This dirt does raise a cry.  My eyes do fall   In loafing sport: See this, see that: A specked leaf Or the half-full ink-pot. ~Asif Sultan

My heart, thy host Asif Sultan  01-01-2021 Gazing at canvas pearly white  Direly wish I to paint it sweet Thy countenance so blessed and bright  Committing thee to painting sheet Behold it I with great delight Afraid am I of distortion Of details that I recall now Beloved's face: like glaring sun Melts off the snow in vast meadow Onus of memory how to shun?  Let me carry the burden tough Of thy memories so sweet though old Nay, mind can bear thy face enough To paint it on the paper gold No portray nor poetry thereof. The host of thee my heart will be Let worn out mind be all set free.