hasnath_mubeena

irfaanaishrath.sarahah.com

. this is where I've begun, this is where I belong to and this is what I will be at the end. "." -Hasnath

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  • hasnath_mubeena 1w

    THE WOMEN:
    The petrichor lured with the resilient honey.
    The fierce air and homesickness of flowers.
    Reveries of plethora and radiance of thine lips.
    Melodramatic dance of the branches and hustling brooks.
    Mundane fist and cosmos of shattered dreams.
    Softness of thee feet and valorous winks concealed blood
    and naked cruelties.
    Fleeting pain and suffocating pleasures.
    Humming anonymity and framed canvas.
    Rustling autumn and bustling winter.
    Wretched hearts and cactus without thorns.
    Wheeled chaos and solitary woods.
    Rose ripened cheeks, and thine flawless kindness.
    Redness of my mountain and warriors of the rain.
    Darkness of the sea and gleam tearing the chest.
    Finely crafted letters of love and perfectly brewed wine.
    A feast for the bees and garden full of musky poetry.
    Dark Chocolate and exotic seasonings.
    Bending straights and mending barriers of unfathomable bliss. Fastened music and flying days.
    Ages of your tanning eyes and earth cleaving lightening.
    Filtered facades of your identity and rustic stereotypes.
    There was a day when you were told, “Not to step out of the house” I'm astonished to see you crossing the limitless of the sky.
    You are winding the infinity under your feet.
    Equality should never be your only goal, you deserve more than that.
    I know that you are deafening to the mumblings of the society.
    Walk, on the way without any destination.
    Exploration, a never ending journey towards yourself.
    You are the “firsts” of everything that I've known.
    There is no comparisons between the coordination of the genders, you are created as the epitome of history.
    Fairness is a tag hung on the trashcans.
    O lady, no words can provide justice for the words,
    you've sculptured with uniqueness and buried under your tongue.
    You are the meaning of inner beauty.
    You are the language of beauty, strength, chivalry.
    O abode of the human existence,
    let not the demons play with your chaste.
    Indeed, you are the five vital forces of nature.
    You are water in love, air in wit, land in endurance,
    sky in affection, fire in perseverance.
    Praising thou of your soul, a never ending epic though.
    ©Hasnath Mubeena

    Written on 08/03/2019.
    I've written something in middle of the writer's block��
    #belatedWomen'sDayPoetry #pod #writersnetwork @writersnetwork

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  • hasnath_mubeena 2w

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  • hasnath_mubeena 4w

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  • hasnath_mubeena 6w

    Exams and tight schedule��
    #pod #writersnetwork @writersnetwork

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  • hasnath_mubeena 8w

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  • hasnath_mubeena 8w

    A DAUGHTER'S PLEA:

    O sanctuary of human bliss, thou conquer the castle of love in the thousand splintered hearts. You'd never be a refugee of time and war. O love! Come back to your home to sleep on your mother's lap. Soothe the broken smiles and uproot the kindness beyond the sunshine. Get up from your b(ed)attle, uncover the blanket of rusty Devils. The Hope is the anthem of this universe. Yesterday's wounds are bleeding yet, Nor blood neither pain, rather pride of the motherland. Hugs and kisses are not enough, For you sacrificed the purest of souls. Dusty vision, destruction everywhere, Shedding leaves fall as seeds. Mesmerized by the music of bullets and bombs? Hence, the lullabies are sung in the houses of thine nation. The wails of the martyr's family, broke up the barriers of humanity as the postman recited that one last elegy. Walking steps are prickly to your bare bones. The chivalry was fed in womb, Though valour in your tomb. 23 is the count of your heartbeats, 24th have lost the guts to fight against your sky. Our flag feels the honor lying upon you. Its covers the deep digged history of your martyrdom. Glimpses of bodies clustered in a fist, no enemies left to bother you, O bravery. The breath I take, is a charity of your last. The food I swallow, is from your starvation, O feast. The smile on my face, is gifted by your swollen eyes. The life I am blessed with, is a piece of diamond mined under your soul. Reverence is jealous of your children, as we've been praying for you. Duty is the priority, safety is necessity, selflessness the uniforms you wear. Nights' sleeplessness and days' tiredness, I've never seen in your courage. I understand now, that separation is the hammer and distance is like the opaque glass, both are harmful to each other. O father of billions of children, return home. May your arrival be mentioned in highest of the heavens. One this evening, the roses, lilies, trees, air and fire mourn for demise. O soldier, gold glazed treasure is to be buried in the 2feet arms of thine mother. The water in the rivers might mingle with the salty oceans, yet your tears would be sacred as you've bestowed on our gardens. Years and eras would narrate an ode on thou, it'll echo in the unknown depths of the hearts. Forever is true as it beholds your epic battle tales in its entire time. I can't measure the thankfulness towards you, it is etched in my blood and nerves. You are not heros in this world, rather the wide spread land we rely on. This whole mankind are civilized amid the cleavage of your stabbed life. As you rest, peace prevails in nooks of the Nation. I wish I had a magical eraser that I could erase the imaginary borders that sieges the brotherhood around your greasy face.
    -Daughter of a martyred solidire
    ©Hasnath Mubeena AsrafSoudha

    #realized fiction #elegy #soldiers #pod #writersnetwork @writersnetwork
    I hope its worth reading till the end.☺

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  • hasnath_mubeena 10w

    BLIND POETESS:

    She lives in the arms of silence because, she's stopped faking her to herself. The popping questions and emerging doubts are the lullabies it sings under her ears. There rest the envisaged eras, within her eyelids, the gleam escapes her lashes down the cheeks. Lies there the galaxies of stars beneath her skin yearning to enslave the air. The subtlety simplified in her lips, for it has a unique art, a smile. You can read her heart beats on her mirroring face. Her hair, kisses the zephyr and dances with the rustic rhythm. Her fingers embrace an enigmatic vision and feet floating in the space. Since the space is no more empty, rather an epitome of her soul. Her endless ebbs hit the Oracle of the Almighty. The fragrance of her dreams melts the barriers of hypocrisy, her heart beats mends the mellifluous song without lyrics. Her words are as clear as the sky penetrating the future. The world pokes her disability, she's not blind rather a seeker beyond imagination. Love is her language, most of them are ignorant of it. The vision of eyes are limited till the cosmos, but the vision of the heart is far from assumptions. She has no veil between her and heaven, but we do have, this materialistic world. She has been blessed with a special ability to solve the mystery of darkness.
    ©Hasnath Mubeena AsrafSoudha

    #blinds #pod #visions #writersnetwork @writersnetwork

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  • hasnath_mubeena 11w

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  • hasnath_mubeena 12w

    The mist has the keys to open the treasures
    concealed inside the buds.
    They whisper the secrets
    in the ears of the nomadic night.
    The soul sliding down the stride of dreams.
    The dawn bestows dews,
    the keys to unlock the chambers of the nature.
    One by one, petal by petal encloses the mystery of the universe. Certainly, the softness of the roses moans
    across the sky to indicate the happiness of a newly bloomed.
    Lucky is the sun, to witness the serene buds bloom,
    and we humans sleeping in gloom.
    The sun's mild shine peeps into the roots to foster the home.
    The roses giggle as the prickly thorns pokes the breeze.
    Roses are painted in versatile royal hues,
    some are baby pink, dark red, vermilion, red, dense pink.
    Maybe, the roses cannot survive without the thorny stem,
    as they are guardians of the treasures.
    A little girl passes by the garden,
    the naive smile on her lips kisses the treasure
    and sniffing nose tickles its heart.
    She plucks it tenderly and sings a song for the rivers of Paradise.
    She stitches it to her hair locks,
    an imprisoned rose's joy reaches her face.
    Until the Twilight, the withering rose
    started mourning for its own sunset.
    She snatched the rose out of her hair's prison,
    gently kissed it and drops on a book.
    The roses cry as they're the bride of a marriage.
    Their dyeing petals, weep as the smell of the heaven.
    Their fragrance fills the room as they pass away in arms of time.
    The next morning, yesterday's bride scattered amid
    the pages, wilted, dry and hopeless.
    Yet, she(rose) is smiling like she's read
    the whole series of life, feels that it is her new way life.
    An abiding magic lasts forever in her soul.
    Pleasure of life quenches its thirst.
    ©Hasnath Mubeena

    #rose #pod #poetry #writersnetwork @writersnetwork

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  • hasnath_mubeena 13w

    Its not necessary that every poetry should rhyme all the time. Some poetry has wings, which flys into hearts, deep down and fades with the blood of the souls. Rhymes don't fit in the backs of painful outburst. The poetry is never been incomplete without rhymes, rhymes are incomplete without a poetess.
    ©Hasnath Mubeena AsrafSoudha