sheikhaehsann

it's not pale and grey , it's dead and depressed koshur❤️

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  • sheikhaehsann 20h

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    Round snowballs hitting edges of my uncloured skin and city,
    I am rowing shikara unknown of road to my beloveds home.

    I found no star's falling ,no dinning table rhyming poems sung
    i found no stranger holding lillies to spilt the ginger tea in halfs .

    Cold mornings growing Silently without the chirping of birds and lover's .
    How long should I wait for pigeons to sing me her letters and poem's.

    No Curtain sweeped , no door left open to home my nomad heart.
    I found all the shops and road's of my town shattered in her seperation.

    The rooftop tiles are not the places to warm the back pain aches of war now .
    I found wounded mother waiting for the son who left home to buy biscuits in snow.

    No engraved names are visible on the golden dotted black gates of my colony.
    We are tracing the half dug footprints of men to find Ishfaq we lost in storm.

    Homes in our neighborhood are without cradle song's of children
    Mother whisphers me the houses in our backyard are not in the maps now .

    Dal lakes is frozen now, so do the alphabets of jehlum river suffer from year's .
    i witnessed a bride ,her heart melts like a burning candle for her disappeared groom.

    Radio has no Raj Begum songs ,Nor does medium wave Plays shams fakira's poetry.
    Sobbing voices of my country men are unheard to hearts of world in snow.

    Wooden cupboard no longer keeps the books filled with her roses safe.
    No fragrance of her black dupatta and silky hair rises from my room.

    I found no street light glowing ,no men diving on snow with joy .
    I found the pages of my city painted with the ink of hearts writing about war in snow.
    @sheikh aehsan

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    Snowflakes hits the wall of my heart with knife .
    I found my lips dead and frozen to name her traits.
    ©sheikhaehsann

  • sheikhaehsann 1w

    You are war for my heart.

    The stench of your aches rotten's meat of my heart,
    I drink smoke of your lies into my diseased lungs
    The cobweb of your false promises are clocking into my broken heart,
    With every footsteps towards my address less empty home,
    I watch train of our promises falling into bottom less pit
    of darkness.
    And your name wounding my summer body with cold betrayal of un rhyming lies of love poems
    ©sheikhaehsann

  • sheikhaehsann 1w

    My heart is full of unsaid confessions that I never recited to people whom I have fall in love with.
    I made room and home for feelings that crawl across my heart and tingle in my fingers .
    I painted flowers for everyone with whom my heart collided .
    I packed my skin with names of people who never met me again .
    I became empty with unsaid and unanswered letters.
    My flesh has flowers of only regrets now .
    My heart is empty unbloomed space of hate.
    The closet I am to someone , More they run away.
    I stay besides myself and i feel my fragrance choking me.
    I remember I have never been loved like a orphan .
    No stranger ever hugged me and called me mine.
    I hope someday someone watches me falling dreadful and down and screams the painful scratches on your body are mine.
    The fragrance of my home is ugly .
    and no one visits my shrine of griefs.
    I am homeless lover in my town.

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    My skin has no traces of human touch.
    My heart has no memory of loving eyes.
    ©sheikhaehsann

  • sheikhaehsann 1w

    My heart has never found a home , city or town of it's own, i found myself suffering the aches of isolation everyday.
    I saw a graveyard for my longings within my ribcages ,i found myself carrying a funeral of my desires everyday.
    i saw my miseries suppressed within my empty stomach , I found my throat choking screams of my heart everyday.
    I saw the blood dripping down from my fingers ,i found myself stiching the ripped letters and poems of love everyday.
    I saw the scars of my wrist left uncovered and uncoloured , I found the signs of illicit love on my lips everyday.
    I saw my throat no longer speaking the song's of love,i found the strings of my heart broken into pieces everyday.
    I saw my tongue stammering with the burden her Memories, i found my lips dead and dried like desert everyday.
    I saw my lungs decaying with sorrowful memories of beloved, i found my stomach no longer diving with butterflies everyday.
    I saw the shelves of art in my heart rusted and runied. i found my veins carrying the methaphors of autumn everyday.
    I saw the orchard of my poem's grey and withering. I found no flowers and fruits blooomig in my backyard everyday.
    I saw the space between my lungs filled with grief and smoke , i found my seekings burning into ashes everyday.
    I saw my eyes drowing to save your memories ,i found no rhyme ,no poem ,no letter and language to speak your name everyday.
    I saw myself crawling behind your footprints.i found my legs and collarbones broken in your wait everyday.
    I saw myself painting the alphabets of our name together.i found rain washing it all everytime everyday.
    I saw you glowing like artful painting in the sky. i found my stars broken and cloud's bursting on my longings everyday.

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    The subtitle of our poem is filled with heavy clouds and thunderstorms .I can feel your memories coming soft towards me but I fear the thundering's of past again .
    I can see you twinkling in the sky but I feel what' if it's the fault of my stars.
    ©sheikhaehsann

  • sheikhaehsann 2w

    i am not some name that everyones mouth speak in fame,
    i am an isolated island that shatters with the vibration of painful sights and misrable thunderous poem's .
    I am not someone who re collects memories and recites happy love poem's.
    I am someone cursed and curfewed, as I see my oppressed eyes pouring on the white paper as un tasted glasses of wine and rain .
    I belong to city without rooftops and windows ,I am unheard noun and all my inner adjectives fail to speak in the cities of verbs and herbs ,
    i am not someone whose lips dance and your eyes and you smile insane .
    i am someone who is unseeing in the boxes of colourful rainbows , A car whose wheels don't work in the snow.
    ©sheikhaehsann

  • sheikhaehsann 3w

    Mornings of September are fragranced like my heart in my hometown
    Half of the flowers blooming like summer, Half of them blown by autumn miseries.

    In June in desert i feel as a colourful orchard of rose's and Lillies
    In September In meadows i droop down droughted like a sad man.
    ©sheikhaehsann

  • sheikhaehsann 3w

    The black coloured radio from 90's left dusted on kitchen shelf still echoes syllables of winter and bloodbath by oppressor in kashmir.

    The unending voids of people who are lost in colours of spring and summer are braided with sad Urdu Ghazals of mehmood gami .

    Memories of countrymen in a green and serene meadows of our backyard are burdening soft cotton lips of people.We feel choked behind the closed gates and doors again and again.

    The tales of snow bathing my country men with sorrowful methaphors are frosting thier palms and veins with cold memories of past. We have no language to tell world about our comrades who are buried in unknown graveyards city apart.

    The Fogg outside gusts me with memories of old lover,Her neck had scars like tattoos , her eyes reflection of Kashmir , her Blood a song that desired to bury and melt the snowballs of oppression.

    The shops closed outside are recollection of the curfew night stories , I remember words from my mothers dictionary . Snowflakes slaughters my sons young dreams , The flood it brings cultivates riots in my daughter's naive body, We have address of home in pockets ,but we don't have a home to sleep in winters.

    The white carpet of snow and dark clouds in sky are mastering me towards abandoned homeland of my father , I could hear bleeding tongues in agony sobbing the heartsore riots that burned our home's, I feel the echoes of gunshots whenever snow falls from rooftops.

    Whenever I hear pages of calendar ringing the alphabets of January . I feel the currents of fear in my collarbones . As i remember I have to hide everything , It's the month of curfew and massacre. They will search shelf after shelf the poetry that I wrote for bloodstained abodes and Martyrs .

    The harshness of winter in kashmir is simillar to oppresor.It wilts my thorns and roses , Occupies all the spaces of barren land in my hometown , pushes me down and buries me wherever it finds the crevices . Leaving no traces of murder for the humans.

    The winter leaves no home for me ,It Just slaughters me with methaphors , Making my longings waunder homeless , burning my heart with riots, making me bleed the syllables of oppression through veins, bathing me everyday with miserable synonyms and new coffins.

    Winter freezes me, i can't narrate the bitter poem's of oppressor, It nourishes more graves within me , it buries me within my own skin. It replaces the old voids with bigger ones.It buries my hometown into unknown graveyard .

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    The tales of cold Snowflakes.

    January is all about oppression. I see the round snowballs growing barriers between me and my lover.
    ©sheikhaehsann

  • sheikhaehsann 3w

    (Neither he betrayed ,nor she had been disloyal.
    it was just game of fate that separated two lover's
    with fear of destiny)

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    Between your eyes and my eyes,
    their is a barrier held by broken pieces
    of my heart and damaged layers of your skin.
    And the poems that are written on my fingers
    are metaphor of something exhausted.
    and the art that is hidden in your ribcages
    is synonym for some unending voids.

    And the rope that stiches us together even
    after sleeping in two different rooms ,
    is stained with blood of my cravings
    and agony that ruins your veins
    in lustful rememberances of mine.

    And these hand written poems of spring
    often speaks to me about two lover's
    who died un bloomed in june
    in white and creamy coloured coffins
    with empty stomach and heart full
    of memories.

    Hearts withered without holding
    lovers arms and gaps between her fragile fingers.
    ©sheikhaehsann

  • sheikhaehsann 3w

    The dark clouds of miseries hovers over our car. we drive away in a long steep hill together for the last time. But not holding the wrists of eachother

    we came barreling down the hill in sadness of seperation at 100 miles per hour for the last time together. But not speaking the song's of snow and mountains for eachother.

    Storms came and cleared the streets of good memory we have spent together ,forming a lofty hill of miseries on every layer of our skin and every soft corner of our hearts too.

    The lush green meadows of our reminiscence are fading Inbetween riots of our heart and fate.We are not passing the fragrance of kisses on eachother neck again.

    Our lungs are suffering the gushing unsolicited tug of war of bitter poems of destiny for tenth time a day .We don't take eachothers name like the old lovers in Urdu poetry repeat.

    We wrung all the pictures , songs , kisses , memories and letters in a broken fridge of our home . Hopeless we witness the bloods trickling down staining our empty heart with cold coated ice of eachothers rememberings again.


    Our eyes are wieghing in pages of our traits . Our Lips screaming the pain that our veins are sustaining for unclear corrupt eyes that felt for eachother in autumn ,while traveling in broken train.

    The poems of seperation have began to Play. The words we echoed throughout the drive dug voids of loneliness.
    we are not for filling the fingers voids of eachother again.

    The windows are opened and the valcano of grief strikes us again. We both are breathing the smoke of our Longings . we both are carrying funerals of our memories with each passing step we repeat.

    our eyes cried our names as one again . We sighed together ' Some hearts are doomed . Some names are cursed". We loved like pine trees and dandelions yet our fate chopped us in two names . We have pictures of eachothers In our home's , But the space of ours arms and hands are empty again.
    © aehsan.

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    The fate ruins all of our longings. It leaves us empty without lover's.

  • sheikhaehsann 3w

    THE UNKNOWN LANGUAGE

    The way things take recycles are never the way my feeling should play . My body is becoming part of someone elses and turning traitor to my own thoughts . It is speeding down into this endless pit. I am longing things that have build walls and are separated from my fate a long time ago. I stand awake to many more days alike Sunday's and Monday's craving to hear someones sighs and languages . someone whose echoes left a mark on my heart. I often runs wild to unknown streets in search of colourful memories of someone who has promised to never visit me even i die. I became fool rushing down to oceans and seas to drown for someone who has made me scared while leaving me hopeless to die in the the middle of beautiful story .I found myself harshly running to places to collect memories of someone who left no words unsaid to break home of poems that we built together. I want to go places where I used to sleep in someone arms crying helplessly renting out all my fears and pains and memories of that someone dug more voids to make me it more tragic to live. I went to coffee shops where we spoke last goodbye to make my heart break into more pieces and sleep sad for all my life. My body has never listened go me it betrayed me and I speak poems that have rhymes of traitor in words
    © that black boy

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    How I write answer to all of your nightmares