The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—            Only this and nothing more.”     Ah, … Continue reading The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

Death, Be Not Proud by John Donne

Death, be not proud, though some have called theeMighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrowDie not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,And soonest our best men with thee do … Continue reading Death, Be Not Proud by John Donne

You gave the most beautiful smiles — Maxima

Written: © Maxima  I’m tired of tidying things upScattered around the place, it smells of chaste.Hairpins on the floor,lipstick smeared with the imagination of kissing,Blood agitated,That silent Wildness living in us. All that something and somehow Hidden in the fog,In the dense bushes of memories that creepand eat in theseMoments of drunken loneliness to hurt […]You … Continue reading You gave the most beautiful smiles — Maxima

Fuhash (Obscenity): Where the ritual prohibiting ‘the head held high’ prevails

Pakistan’s legendary poet and thinker Faiz Ahmed Faiz said: Sacrificed be I at the altar of your lanes, my beloved nation, Where the ritual prohibiting ‘the head held high’ prevails Where the votary embarking on pilgrimages Cowers furtively: mutilation of his health and life fears!! Fuhash (obscenity) is perhaps the single most defining, politically used, manipulated, … Continue reading Fuhash (Obscenity): Where the ritual prohibiting ‘the head held high’ prevails

Ode on a Grecian Urn by Keats

Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,Sylvan historian, who canst thus expressA flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shapeOf deities or mortals, or of both,In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?What mad pursuit? What struggle to … Continue reading Ode on a Grecian Urn by Keats