Author name: Huma

His footsteps ringing In my ears, Strong and persistent, I flee from him In the whispers of The dark deep nights, In the songs of Clear, bright days, Behind the mists, Up in the unknown hills, Down narrow winding paths Of forgotten years, Beside the raging sea Of unshed tears, Far in the colourful valleys […]

In the early hours of dawn, When the lamps begin to flicker In the strange grey light, When pain reaches a peak, When the pulse becomes faint And every breath is laboured, When warmth gives way to cold And the body begins to cry, When pallor spreads on the face And the brow begins to

Like a beggar maid, I sit by the highway ———-the highway of dreams. I beg not for their colours Nor even for their realisation; What I beg for Is only a little hope.

I hear it again! I hear it everyday Every minute Every second! That soundless cry, That voiceless call From the oblivion Where silence _______ Only silence echoes And re-echoes, Where there is That strange formlessness.   I rush forward In search of that cry, In answer to the call. And when I stand On the

[This poem was broadcast on AIR, Hyd, Yuva Vani on 23rd July 1978]   The chain of life Was once strong With so many links in it. But now, Now I have broken every link, every tie, Which bound me To joy, to sorrow, To love, to hatred, To flowers, to thorns, To light and

[This poem was broadcast on AIR, Hyderabad, Yuva Vani on 23rd July 1978]   All my life I’ve walked On this rocky path – alone. But how I laughed when the thorns hurt! How I loved those deep scars on my feet! Every time I stumbled, Every time I fell, I got up in triumph.

I saw you leave. Your eyes fixed on me But unseeing, glazed. You left without a word, Without a backward glance; At the misery you left behind, At the sickness you had inflicted on my very soul, The desolate isolation that encompassed me When I saw you go  — forever.   I can travel on

The wind was howling, the thunder was loud Like incessant drums beating a wild march. Sudden flashes of light lit up the lonely hillside.   Low, gasping moans echoed hollowly in the crumbling hut. The dim lamp threw its cruel light Over a wrinkled face distorted with pain.   Silvery drops shone on a pale

The darkness was falling, To hide a long, tiring day in its bosom.   Trees stood naked, Autumn leaves spread on the ground.   There, in a vast, lonely valley, I saw her, a solitary figure.   All clad in black, walking silently, With unsteady, aimless steps.   One white hand lay on her breast,

Those lonely eyes, Dark with pain, Gaze steadily at the door.   Each sound, Each footfall, brings intensity To their innocent awaiting.   The sound dies in the imagination, The footfalls move on And fade away.   The expectant eyes Drop in disappointment, And with them drop, two large tears. One dimpled hand Wipes them