BLACK DOG

You again at this 'chicken-roll' kiosk
To nibble up titbit's without a single bark

People will throw pieces of 'roti', chicken
You know how to seduce them

You are short, cute, 'preen'
With small fur of black Sheen

You look straight into their eyes
Inside you see the journey of 'hands to gobs'

Making anyone feel the guilt
If they don't feed you little-bit

You don't wag your stubby tail
But you prefer a game,'eyeball to eyeball'

I also fell into your charm
Gave you some god given ration

You were staring at me
As if you were reading me
My present, past, future
I know you have the knowledge
About my happiness, sadness.....love

You followed me for sometime like those pets
I could hear your small, quick, hurried steps
Moving me to tears

Then you changed the lane
That far you came
Just to give a tribute to me

But today don't look at me like that
I will not make any eye-contact
Makes me feel the same guilt

I don't need your empathy
You won't get anything in times of penury

"I am hungry"
"Do you listen" I AM HUNGRY
"do you understand i am hungry"

---shahzad

Ab Initio

The baby is crying, losing these priceless seconds, diamonds

He doesn't know anyone now, nor could he understand these nomads

Staring at wall, paint , he cannot recognise

Books, he cannot read. . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . ..

Sleeping till the afternoon sun, till rise in body heat

Evening "Azaan" baptizes him again and again

Looking through the window, the sinking sun

Hymning the tune of wood, left to burn

Nearby,Music of wind chimes in the nights silence

When kissed softly by the breeze

Taking him to the mystic 'bazaars'

where you get every toy and see other toddlers

Keeping him awake ,till he falls asleep

Poor baby , tied like a shackled prisoner

Looking at "You" with those wet eyes of a believer

As if he had seen a holy relic or made confession

'Enfant terrible' had again made mistake in selection

'Oh' Mother where are you

Hide me somewhere , where you hid me before

G a m b l e. . . . .All same.. . . . . same. . . . . Fake

The baby is born

Ab Initio, takes ages to learn

For washed-rocks to grow the fern

----Shahzad

Syed Abrar