I can not Love you

Holding on to my memories?
The one who is an aloft lilly in the cactuses valley,
The one standing on fork ended roads of life
Where breath is not even in good terms with her
Whose Helen is feeding on her own snippets
How Long would you collect my broken feathers?
Or thrive to resolve my knotty threads of pallid Identity?
I am Half truth or Half haunting Fantasy
A residue of burnt hopes
Where only insects of fear breed
My Troy you can not own
It's a battle of myself with my own innards
Forget me forever
I can not Love thee
Copyrights reserved to Paras Ali/2015

My Grammarly Emotions

When tickled pink , an adjective I am 

When cyclone writes on my face it's mighty objection

They say: I coil, swirl , polarize

Like a restless verb often does in the company of adverbs

Later in moments if I manage to wear my invisible crown

 I am fixed in a case of a noun; a hypocritical clown

My dark circles are their favourite metaphors

They extract similes from my lonesome Life's chapters

My skin's hues are in their custody too

I act , I read

I rustle, I chatter

I smile loud, or I wink

I often on my miseries sing

And then above all I am Noticed

Like a closed-ended story I am read

Where do I hide my shattered dreams?

Their magnetic pull drag unwanted atoms in heaps

I doubt no bone of my own

Belongs to me Alone

Copyrights Reserved to Paras Ali/2015

A tiny scented-candle murmured:
"O lord make my flame few miles high
So that i can reach the sky
I wish to burn in fractions of seconds
The mole in the middle of the moon"

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The Editor brought the poem to theatre

A tallow-stick,
Black Pencil,
Russet shadow,
Bald meadow,
Fuzz
buzz
tick-tock
tick-tock
And ruse the rustle
Moth in wax shroud
Panther, puma
Into Blood bouts
Moon-burnt-beam;
Together
With Aliens, Birds
And hunched smoky spectators:
Clip-ed,
Edit-ed,
Trim-ed and Punctuate-ed,
The ab-surd Object d'art
To tantalize,
Fawn and Flaunt
Arcane whispers of my Heart
Ah.... In the Most Original World
Masks are to be worn by my Words...
Copy rights reserved to  Paras Ali

Who am I?

I am a thousand bits of paper on a leaf
Waxed together by affable honey bees.
One corner of it is tucked
To the right claw of dead vulture's carcass
Hanging on the tree, shouldering a deserted nest.
While my other half is hooked
To an urn preserving ashes of godlike humans.
Here beats no wind chimes
Nor reigns the kingship of time
No compass lives to set the sails of my shards
Here Movement has breathed long ago it's last
Even then i am on the verge to fall
I know i will go down and my bits will drown
Because i can not escape my own gravity
(Paras Ali, 2015)

I do not write for you

Like a honey bee i have taken a thousand flights
Around the city of primroses, pearl blossoms and Jasmines
From the swishing bullets and booming guns
To the stenched fungi infected fields of slum
I have squeezed and compressed a brilliant nectar of words
My whirring of broken wings have heaved a sigh
To the dead silent haunting nightmares
Yes i am an ordinary gray-eyed wingless bird
Exiled long ago from the sky of Hawks , falcons and Eagles
Dare not flutter your huge feathers around me
Your perfection can not beset me
Don't even try to buy my words
Think a million times before you read me
Err not even in your day dreams
Not even my tiny suffix belongs to you
Nor i write for you
Neither i sing for you


Copyrights reserved to Paras Ali/2015

"And then the December Wept"

Listening the loud commotion,
The Serene December clomped towards my castle
To borrow some bits of hope for the mourning horizon
It saw with in my grotto black blotched moon
Abandoned from the light-laden rain of moonsoon
Few forlorn petals of a bud
Before turning flower were daggered to death
Nameless odours of my youth
Mingled in the poisonous brook, gone crude
And my plagued embryo of wan words
Burnt to Ashes before their formal birth
After witnessing my this wealth,
Poor December cuddled me tight
It could not resist ,it failed to forgive
Gathering me in it's arms,
Atlast like an imaptient Child
It melted and cried

Copy rights reserved to Paras Ali/2015