POEM_: If I Had not Loved You So

If I had not loved you so,
your distance
when with you
would not pain me thus…

If I had not wanted
to spend every moment
of my life with you;
I would not, now,
see every moment
with you, a pain.

But if you were not meant
to test me, at my most intense,
why were you ever destined
to come into my life?
Like the zillion others,
why did you not flit in
and out, like a butter-fly:
Beautiful in,
forgotten out?

Were you here
to test the very peaks
of my passion,
the very depths
of my despair,
the very last
of my patience?

Or were you here
to bring me the knowledge
that life can best be lived
if only lived free…

…from the encumbrances
of desire…

…even,
from love?

- owais

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This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: An Inferno Named Desire

Put out
the flame of desire,
and I stop burning.
My suffering ends.
But,
what do I then live for?


Or else,
choose the other option:
I burn, and burn well,
like a forest fire
ravishing all that I find
in my way…?

But,
what do I then, leave in my wake?
Pain, lost life, ugliness?
And, I too
die in the end…
…with nothing left to burn.

With my temptations, my fuel gone,
the inferno of my desire,
then eats itself.
Eats me.


Which was a better life?
…and a worthier death?

- owais

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This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: Of Success, And…

You ask me
of my biggest success
in life. It’s been you.
Of course.

From you,
I learnt love.
With you, I knew passion.
For you, I left the world; from you,
I came back to it.

I discovered, how much I could care,
what I was willing to give,
and what not,
in order to catch that mirage
called Love.

I created new limits,
I invented a new self.
I discovered a patience
within me, I never knew existed.
I waited for years
for one, just one
lover’s kiss from you.

You kept your distance.
You made love.
And yet,
it wasn’t love.
You never liked the touch of my body;
never got rid of the guilt
of having made love to me.

With you, for you, I have known
the greatest feelings
the greatest thoughts, ideas
a man is capable of. And for you
I have imagined pains,
I would not inflict on a foe.

You have given me
great pleasure, happiness, the feeling of
almost ecstasy.
And you have given me the pain, the agony
I would not have, otherwise, known.

You never said if
you loved me.
You had no plans for our future together.
You never touched my face.
With your fingers
you never combed my hair.

Yes, my dear,
you have been the biggest success of my life--
And the greatest failure.

- owais

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This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: Induced Schizophrenia

I wish you, my love
a very happy birthday.
And, many happy birthdays
to come.

Do you know, that
it has been six months
since you saw me last –
and even today,
when no one bothers,
but I,
to remember your birthday; in your eyes,
I see no spark of love, for me;
no glimmer of hope, for me,
to still believe
that we have
a future, together.

I thought,
you were the love
of my life.

Perhaps,
it is so.
But am I,
the love of your life?
(Or even,
a love in your life?)

Evidently,
it is not so.

But who will convince
my stupid heart,
my ignoramus desire?
Evidence, it seems,
counts for nothing.

Am I destined
to forever
burn for you?

Or,
can I cut away
that large part
that humongous part of me,
which does nothing
but pine for you?

Can I
induce schizophrenia?

- owais

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This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: All Mine?

Rivals,
I have defeated all.

But that,
which I thought a diamond;
and spent a lifetime polishing-
turned out to be
a mere stone.

- owais

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This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: I Fear The Day

How I fear the day
when I may lose
even that part
of him, which is mine;
for his fierce pride
will never allow
what I want to do to him:
I wish to own him.
All of him.

Just as he owns
all of me.

- owais

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This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: Redundancy

While making me,
redundant,
in your life, I wish
you had made yourself,
redundant too.

In mine.

- owais

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This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: By The Lovers of The Lord

Like a virgin,
waiting for her lover,
to lovingly make her his own,
I waited.

I waited
for a belief,
to follow through its course.
I waited for my end.
For the end, of a centuries old
house of God.

I was attacked,
raped
and murdered.
By the lovers of the Lord.

- owais

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This is first being published on this page.