A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z *

• new writers
• prolific writers
• random

Cockroaches of Disruption

The process of peace, the process of change
As the deal are struck, as deal are brokered
Through rumors and disobedience
To the nation, the silent witness

Honor Killings in Babakot

Those beautiful faces, our daughters
Gone forever, heads sunk in grief
As words betray us, to describe
Heinous crimes and we call ourselves
The followers of prophet and Islam

In Memory of Ahmed Faraz

We will miss him and words
That breathed revolution
Death can only bring whispers
But words, a torrent of revolution

Long Live Pakistan

From 1947, the day we became free
As we stand, to celebrate another year
From Waziristan to distant corners,
Lies there the evidence, of our endeavors

The Peacock Moments

Hope cannot be lost or forgotten
Carry they will these droplets of rain
Change will arrive, peace will reside
The old effect, the peacock moments!

Long March

In thousands, we will march, for change
Hear you will my friends, not far away
The days of change and nights of comfort
Walk with me, as each step gathers its storm

Myanmar Disaster

“Dedicated to the people of Burma in their hour of need………but stands there, the government and its obstacles “!!!

Chillchinga, the US Soldier

The only desire now
To go home
To converse few words
In Spanish as he pays the price
For migration and adventure

Inside you

As colour drift apart from painter’s brush
Says the picture, I am inside you
As the ocean turns itself upside down
Says the fish I am still inside you

My Brother, My Killer

See you not me, as of your own
See you not me, as of your kind
See you not me, as I am your blood

Me, not you

Thousand times I have stared
At existence of you and mine
Of what we are and have become

Kibera Inside and Outside

Bullets inside my head
And hunger outside me
I am a little child
My mother gone

Pakistan

Another day descends into its history
Of bloodshed, ignorance and plunder
Who shall we blame, the west or Islam

The Missing Pakistanis

Where are those souls
Into wilderness, they disappeared
Like autumn leaves,
With no traces

The Nicotine Fingers

I have
In my possession
Not much but few
Belongings of my own

Six Minutes

The changing world,
Continuation of destruction
Through volcanoes and winds

Of No Importance

I need to move,
To some other place
Away from all this mayhem

The Muffled Rage

These fragmented sentences and paragraphs are like those human parts and our character as a nation dispersed all over these streets of Karachi.

Terra Cotta Soldiers

In thousands, they departed
To defend, to extend

The Becoming of Knight

Long time ago,
They shed blood
For religion and for glory

The Keys

Invite me back
My home and mountains
Let me remain sane
So I can converse again

The Orange Monks

They move together
Unarmed and in silence

The Rape of the Nation

The nation awaits
Not its messiahs and inspiration
Not from their leaders
Not from their politicians

The Chair

At no cost, I will leave
This chair and its power

Kashkin Dabruski

• Articles on Chowk: 24
• First article: Sep 19, 2007
• Latest article: Oct 10, 2008
• Times read on Chowk: 63950