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.

(4) THE SELF-TALKER

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

Words.

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.

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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.

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.

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

Words.

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

Words.

In them is a history,

A story of love,

And a chapter of sadness.

The words on the paper

Are not just words.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

Audio Poems

Listen audio poems on this website:

http://trlcl.eu5.org/audiopoems/

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. 

(3) THE PAIN OF LOVE

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.

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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?

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.

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

Experiencing,

Living,

And learning.

Enough

Enough

by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

A smile

Can bring

Happiness.

A word

Can heal

Wounds.

A touch

Can give

Life.

A flame
Can remove

Darkness.

A prayer

Can change

Fate.

One thing

With love

Is enough.

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?

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.

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.