Wednesday, December 24, 2014

My Life Won’t Be the Same

My Life Won’t Be the Same
by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

Please don’t go
After you my life
Won’t be the same.
When I think of
The nights without you,
They seem to be long
And the days empty.
Without you the walks,
The river, the trees
The ways they all
Would be desolate.

With you I live
Every moment
Of my life.
And if you go,
My life would come to an end;
The heart, the pulses
Would stop.
Please don’t go
After you the life
Won’t be the same.

Monday, December 22, 2014


Author: Rizwan Ahmed Memon

Rafique had just three friends in his community. The countryside where he lived was full of natural beauty. His three friends rarely met him, so he had made pen and paper his full-time companions. Apart from pen and paper, he had made himself his best friend.

On a summer evening, Rafique, as usual, was out on a walk. Describing the weather, he said to himself, “It is a hot day today. The wind has stopped, so the suffocation has increased. Oh, look at my shirt. It is wet because of sweat. My pants have also become wet. Oh, no my papers! They must be damp, too. Now how will I write today? By the way, what am I going to write today–a poem, an essay, or a story? Well, let’s see.”

Walking and talking to himself, he reached his accustomed place which was a Neem tree. “Hello, buddy. How is it going? You are growing and growing to make your shadow even denser. Thanks for providing the shadow, brother.” he said to the tree. Rafique sat under the tree and looked around. “Water in the pond is increasing because of the flow in the river, isn’t it?” he asked the tree. “Oh, I see. With more water in the pond, you are becoming stronger! Why didn’t you tell me that before?” he kept talking to the tree, but the tree was silent.

He took out the blank papers from his pocket which were a little damp. He kept them open in the sunshine so that they would dry. “You must be wondering what I will write today,” he said to the tree. “Well, friend, I don’t know either!” Saying this he laughed loudly.

“The words
On the paper
Are not mere
In them is a history,
A story of love,
And a chapter of sadness.
The words on the paper
Are not just words.”

He wrote these words on the paper. “Yes, I think I am writing a poem,” he said to the tree. When he finished writing the poem, he told to the tree, “It is time to move now. You can read this poem on my blog tomorrow.” “You know the address of the blog, right?” he asked the tree. The tree said nothing. Closing his papers he said to the tree, “See you soon, friend.”

Rafique then went to the River Indus, which was at a little distance from the tree. He often sat on the bank of the river and wrote stories and poems. Walking on the levee, he kept talking to himself. After the river, he came to the village fields where he sat for some time, and then he went home. At night, he posted the poem on his blog. By writing and talking to himself, Rafique spent his life happily. Rafique found happiness in nature and writing. In the past, people had broken his heart, so he stayed away from people and made a world of his own.
Respond to the Story:

Do you think loneliness is better than a bad company?
Have you ever written any poems or stories? If so, share it with your classmates and teacher.

Sunday, December 21, 2014

Precious Peace Like Pearls

Precious peace like pearls
by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

I have a peaceful world;
Because I have simplicity and silence.
I have a peaceful world;
Because I have fewer friends.

I depend on no one but myself;
This way I save myself from hurt.
I have a peaceful world;
Because I have fewer wishes, hopes and plans.

Loneliness keeps me away
From the turmoil of other people.
I have a peaceful world;
Because I have peaceful friends, like nature herself.

Countryside colors fill my life;
I am away from the noise of the city.
I have a peaceful world;
Because birds sing songs here.

The quiet of the night provides nice slumber;
In the day, I write poetry under the shadows of the trees.
I have a peaceful world;
Because I have fewer possessions.

I hope my grave and never-ending world
Will be peaceful, too.
I make something for the Hereafter;
Because this peaceful world is temporary.

Friday, December 12, 2014

My Roots

My Roots
Author Rizwan Ahmed Memon

We have a great attachment to the place where we are born, the places where we played games in our childhood, and the streets on which we walk every day. These places are our roots and anywhere in the world we go, we miss them.
I remember the streets on which I played in my childhood. They were not made of cement or tiles. They didn't look like floors or roads. They were simply of dust. The earth was smooth and soft. The dust lifted and blew only when a big vehicle crossed. In the summer, when I played on those streets, they felt cold and comforting. They used to be damp because the shadows of the trees and walls of the houses, which were made of mud bricks. They hardly allowed the sunshine through. Whether our streets and houses are made of cement, tiles, or of other materials, we love them because we have a history with them.
However, among us there are some people who do not feel a relationship with their roots. They always complain about everything around them, and they seem to be fed up with their surroundings. They try to move to a big city and live away from their countryside. On the contrary, the people who love their roots think of them as deceivers who only take from their roots and don’t give anything to their roots.
If you ask me, I have a great attachment to my roots. I feel happy to be where I was born. I like to sit on the ground where I played games in my childhood. In 2010, when I went to university, I had to leave my countryside. I studied in a university which was three times larger than my countryside. Everything was available there: wide playing fields, libraries, gyms and the Internet cafe. In spite of all those things, I missed my village. In the lights of the big city, I missed the quietness of the night of my countryside. Whenever I got to go home on holiday, I felt great happiness. In university, holidays for me meant a chance to go to my rural area. My small town was at a great distance. Many of my classmates spent their holidays at the university, but I always went to my village on the holidays. It took a whole night if I traveled at night, and a whole day if I traveled in day. The big city’s wind could never win my heart. The gym or the wide playing fields of the university never gave me that joy which I got on the little streets in my hamlet. The bank of the river of my region, where I had spent hours, always came in my dreams. When I was at the hostel, the trees, the fields and the streets always remained in my memories.
After completing my education, I came back to my roots to give to them all those skills I gained at university. The people of my community didn't like my pants and shirt, and my clean-shaven face, but I liked them. Because I knew I had to teach them it was no sin to wear pants and a shirt, and it was no sin to learn the English language, and that they could grow beards if they like. I am proud of my roots, my simple countryside farmers, and the laborers.

Written Words

Written Words
by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

The words 
On the paper
Are not mere
In them is a history,
A story of love,
And a chapter of sadness.
The words on the paper
Are not just words.

Voices of silent people
You will hear
When you read
The words on the paper.
You will know
The oppressor
And the innocent
The words on the paper
Are not mere words.

The Waves of the ocean--
 And the sand of the desert
You will feel
If you read,
The words on the paper.
 Lies and realities
Will surprise you
If you go through
The words on the paper.

The words
On the paper
Are not mere
In them is a history,
A story of love,
And a chapter of sadness.
The words on the paper
Are not just words.

Monday, December 8, 2014

You are Safe

You are Safe
by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

You are safe
In my arms.
Neither any sorrow,
Nor any agony
Can touch you.
You are safe
In my arms.

The changing days
Of your life
Can bring storms
Rains, and winds,
But you need
Not worry because
You are safe
In my arms.

Heat of summer
Cold of winter
Cannot affect you
You are safe
In my arms.

No matter how
High the waves
Of the ocean
May be.
They can never
Reach you because
You are safe
In my arms.

I will surpass
Any mountain
Any agony
To keep you safe
In my arms.
Because I am
Your partner.
Stay safe forever
In my arms.

Thursday, November 27, 2014

When I Go for Walks

When I Go for Walks
by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

The purity of snow,
Reminds me
Of your innocence.
The silence
Engendered by cold,
Reminds me
Of your silence.
The still air,
Helps me
Recall your touch.

The rustle
Of the leaves
In the trees--
The crackle 
Of the leaves
Beneath my feet--
Make me feel
The sounds
Of the bangles
In your arms.

The howling wind,
The foggy fields,
The bubbling stream,
The creaking branches,
The rustling leaves,
They all make me
Miss you so--
When I go
For walks
In the fall.

Thursday, November 20, 2014

The Sun Went Down

The Sun Went Down
by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

Oh, the sun went down—
The birds came back to their nests,
But I see no portent of your arrival.
Oh, my heart cries again—
My tears fall again.

Each day I see your way—
But you appear form nowhere.
Oh, the ringing bells around the necks of the cows
Tell that the end of the day has come—
But our separation from one another still continues.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

In the Fall

In the Fall
by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

You had said you would come in the fall
When due would be on the flowers--
When the wind would blow from the north--
And when the nights would be cold.

Oh, my love. Please come back
Because I see the pollen on the trees--
The due on the grass in the fields--
And my nights are cold, too.

You had said you would be back
When the days would be short--
When the snow would start--
When the fog would blur the streets.

Oh, my friend. Now the days are short--
The snow falls on the mountains--
And the fog is in the valley--
Please somehow return now.

You had said you would arrive
When the river would flow smoothly--
When the water would dry--
When the sand would appear on the banks--
When the Siberian birds would come.

Oh, my precious. I find no waves--
The water is only at the bottom of the river--
The sand shines in the warm sun--
And the foreign birds in flocks have reached.

Oh, my life. Come back--
Before the fall ends--
Before the flocks flight--
Before the heart stops.

Monday, November 10, 2014

Where are You Now?

Where are You Now?

by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

Once you promised
To be by my side always, my friends.
Now that tough times have come,
Where are you now?

I cannot hold back my tears--
I cannot stand tall--
I am breaking.
Where are you now?

Once you were my companions
At all gatherings.
Now no one is around
Where are you now?

Once when I had a lot of wealth and fame
You had a lot of time for me.
Now that my pockets are empty
Where are you now?

Once you phoned me every day
Why my number is not in your phones now?
My friends,
Where are you now?

Friday, November 7, 2014

In the Search of a Job

In the Search of a Job

by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

Traveling to different cities,
Appearing at different tests and interviews,
A fresh graduate from university--
Tried very hard to get a job.

He studied at the library for hours,
And read the job ads in the newspapers.
Hoping to find vacancies, he turned page after page.
Days went by he kept looking for a job.

Sometimes he passed written tests,
But failed in interviews.
Sometimes his knowledge worked,
But his luck didn’t.

Sometimes his spirit
Struggled and dwindled.
Sometimes he collected himself
And kept searching.

He had a belief
That hard work bears fruit,
That the God’s mill grids slow but sure.
So he tried and tried and tired.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Away So Away

Away So Away
by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

Gone are the days
When we hand in hand,
Went for walks;
And sat on the river bank.
At the time of twilight,
We saw the flocks of birds,
Flying to their nests,
And we dreamt of our little home.
I don't know
Where she has suddenly gone.
There is nobody at the river now,
Those walks are no more,
That life has ended.
Those times are gone now.
I cannot find her;
She has gone away, so away. 

Monday, September 8, 2014


Author: Rizwan Ahmed Memon

It was August 16, 2014. I woke up early in the morning and decided to go to my father’s grave to pray for him. As I prayed, I saw a very old man, walking with a stick. He was going to the grave of his wife Sophiya, who had died just two days ago. As he approached the grave, he burst into tears and cried out, “Why did you leave me? Take me with you.” His love for his wife was so obvious from his pain.

I had seen them together since my childhood. They often went to the city on a donkey cart. Their house was by the graveyard, and Sophiya often brought her buffaloes to graze. My mother told me that my father used to call Sophiya his sister. Her village was near our town. My father used to sell clothes in different villages; that is how he met Sophiya. She was a poor, but brave woman. She wasn’t born into a Muslim family. Sophiya had fallen in love with a Muslim man named Raheem Bukhsh.

Sophiya did everything for her love. She left her home, parents, and her religion. She became Muslim and married Raheem. After becoming Muslim, her name was changed. She was named Islaam. They were very poor, but their happiness was not dependent on wealth. Their love was pure and without reserve. Raheem didn’t work much. It was Islaam who managed to support the house by selling milk. They had five children: three sons and two daughters.

I still remember how she often complained about her daughters-in-law and said they didn’t treat her well. One of her sons died in a road accident. Her son’s sudden death upset her and Raheem so much. After many years, they recovered from the pain of the death of their young son. Islaam and her husband decided to sell their buffaloes and make a pilgrimage to Mecca.

After they had arrived back to Pakistan, Islaam came to our house and told us about the pilgrimage. Islaam and her husband had become very old, and they could not make ends meet. Islaam took food from other people to satiate the hunger in their stomachs.

For years, they survived this way. On Eids, Islaam used to come and say, “Happy Eid.” In 2014, on Eid-u-Fiter, the Eid which comes after Ramadan, she came to see us. I met her. I didn’t know it was her last Eid. That day, she became seriously ill. She was taken to the hospital. She was in the hospital for three days, but her health didn’t improve. The doctors said she would not survive. Her husband took her home in the hope that she would survive, no matter what the doctors said, but she could not survive any more.

The love and life of Islaam have always inspired me. She sacrificed everything for her husband and always remained by his side through thick and thin. Old Raheem is also ill, and suffering from the pain of separation from his beloved wife. I often find Raheem weeping on his wife’s grave. Everything that we have in this world will not be with us forever. We, too, will leave this world. Sometimes the pain of love makes life, and sometimes it takes one’s life. In life having someone who loves us truly is a gift from God. A man is mortal. One day, everybody has to leave this world. The only way we can be in someone’s heart is through love. Islaam and Raheem Bukhsh’s life story will always be in my mind and heart.
Respond to the story:
Who burst into tears on Islaam’s grave and what did they say?
How had Islaam married Rahim Bukhsh?
Why was their love so strong?
Have you ever seen any couple whose love story is like Islaam’s?
What is the central message of this story?
How does this story effect your life?

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Through the Window of My Room

Through the Window of My Room

by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

Through the window of my room
I saw the world.
I knew the pain of homelessness,
And saw the hard work of the shoemaker on the footpath.

The window of my room was like the TV,
Through which I peered into the world.
I saw the punctuality of the traffic police,
And the regularity of schoolchildren.

Years passed; things had changed.
The schoolchildren had become tall,
And that green tree, which once looked a plant,
Grew and looked so huge and beautiful.

Oh, that beggar -- he always came
In the evening and in the morning.
I had seen innocence in his eyes;
Through the window of my room.

And that pot seller
On his wheel barrow had four children.
He has always remained simple,
Honest, and good to others.

My window showed me how the world runs.
The window and I have also turned old.
The glass in the window and the glasses on my eyes
Are not so clear now.

The rains, the winds have affected them.
The time has changed us all.
The world has changed,
The window has changed -- my eyes have changed.

Friday, September 5, 2014

With the Passage of Time

With the Passage of Time
by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

Things change,
Men change,
With the passage of time.
Sometimes become good, sometimes bad.

Some reach adulthood form childhood,
Some reach old age from adulthood.
Changes come in every thing
With the passage of time.

Some friends leave,
And some new come.
Some trees are cut,
Some seeds are sowed.

Some men die,
Some are born.
Some goals are achieved,
Some goals are made.

Some wounds are healed,
Some are caused.
At some places sun sets,
And at some places it rises.

Some crops are harvested,
And some fields are plowed.
This game, this business goes on
With the passage of time.

Some students pass out,
Some come for admissions.
We have come,
And we will be gone.

This way the system goes on
With the passage of time.
Days have come and gone,
Nights have come and gone.

Experiencing, Living, and learning

Experiencing, Living, and learning
by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

High spirit

Makes you do anything.
Pure thoughts
Give you fine feelings.

High hopes
Breathe soul in your body.
Clear goals
Provide you a compass.

Good books
Bring you guidance 
Good teachers
Educate you.

Good health
Is your true wealth.
Good friends
Bring more life in your life.

Old mistakes
Make you cautious in present.
Past regrets
Waste your time.

Just move a head
And learning.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014


by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

A smile
Can bring

A word
Can heal

A touch
Can give

A flame
Can remove

A prayer
Can change

One thing
With love
Is enough.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Why Do You --

Why Do You --
by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

Why do you
Keep tantalizing me?
This rudeness, this coldness
Causes me great pain.
And it breaks my heart.

Why do you
Not understand
The love I have for you?
The oceans can dry,
The mountains can fall down,
But my love can never decrease for you.
So, please do not keep me apart.

Why do you not believe
When they tell you
That you have found the love
Which everyone is searching for.
An endless love, true in all ways,
Pure and perfect.
Wasn't I the one
Who you had waited for?

Thursday, August 28, 2014

The Age of Responsibilities

The Age of Responsibilities
by Rizwan Ahmed Memon
I go to work daily
Because I have to
Bring home the bacon.
I have reached the age of responsibilities.

There were days
When someone did this for me.
I just played and went to school,
But now I have reached the age for working myself.

I do not have time for going out,
For swimming in the river,
For playing on the street,
Now I just work and work.

I still remember I went to the river,
And sat under the tall Neem tree.
The dense shadows gave me peace and comfort.
Now I have left the tree, the shadows, and the river.

I wish I could have enjoyed more
My childhood, my days of freedom.
I face this age of responsibilities happily
Because it is inevitable. Everyone will have it.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

My Heart Stops Beating

My Heart Stops Beating
by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

It's as if my heart stops beating
When I am away from you.
Silence prevails all around
When I am away from you.

Nights seem to have no end,
Stars refuse to twinkle,
And moon shines no more
When I am away from you.

Words cannot define
How I feel
When I am away from you.
Every evening brings pain,
Every night I endure suffering,
And every day seems a century
When I am away from you.

My eyes are addicted to the sight of you.
Without you around me I feel dead, 
And life seems useless
When I am away from you.

Now comeback, my sweetheart;
Before our separation takes my life.