POETRY
By Zainab Tanveer
Merry goes around
Sun like a dazzling star on the sky
Souls being so restless like waves on a cry
And you in the café biscuits on tree trays
Your eyes stuck on window, chasing the rainbows
My thought being like birds being chased and being raced
Picture them up and there ready to fly
Curved smile, eyes meet
Your illusion in my dreams, dancing misery can’t help falling back with me
You speak then I speak that’s how small was the matter
Now we pick up pace and start to race, chosiing words that describe us better
Spells of summer turn into spring
We arose so hard and clear as a storm but bloomed so gently and lightly in form
But then one ruthless day winter froze the tapestries
When we went to the sea to join the melodies
I don’t know how, I don’t know when
Our love’s fate got reserved in the finishing ink of a pen.
It was the time when my hand turned to dust evanesced in a second then she held it first
You being blinded by her haunting blush
For why would words matter when you are in a rush
Strings be played when the storm was in rage
She said, “what’s the matter, we are warm and cozy.”
The roses are scar and the frost to nosy
So now I lie on the stiff, hard ground
Watching the fire burning from miles around
My heart it pounds in hopes it surrounds,
that one day you’ll know then you’ll be around
But now I’m gone, my soul has parted
And the snow is on and the howls have been departed
You listen them and come running back
But my ghostly form look frowning back
I circle you around like horses on the ground
My rendered construction of merry goes around
Meaning: The carousel imagery (merry-go-round) is a metaphor for the cycle of love, loss,
and repetition. Like a carousel, the relationship went through phases: fun, rise, crash and in
the end, the speaker becomes a spectral part of that cycle, watching the same patterns repeat
from beyond. The poem speaks to:
The fragility of love
The pain of betrayal
The bitterness of loss
And the haunting permanence of memories that refuse to die.
The Lady of grace
A girl who is blonde and chubby
Searches the crowd in search of a bunny
She tackles with misery and heat of the sun
For the world is a place where dreams fly and run
She settles in a cave, cold and wet
Takes out a pen but starts to sweat
For she like to write but words have might
They tear her apart and fill her with fright
The letters she engraves are golden and true
But the waist land outside turns them dusty and blue
Out of a clue she forgets how to fight for a warrior she is has a sword to light
She throws it aside in the kingdom of dead
And starts to gather the tears she has shed
She piles them up and builds a castle
Looking just like dream she had wrestled to grapple
Freed with intimidation she builds nations
That are too strong to touch but are filled with patience
Part 2
It was the time when thunder swam around
Sunshine was scar and darkness stood the ground
It twinkled and tiptoed and patted on the shoulder
Of the ones who tried to look strong and bolder
But then there came a boy brighter than ever
Darkness swam up and gave him a shiver
As soon as it touched he started to fade, his colors gone
He held up his up his hand like a shadow withdrawn
Then as soon as his hand became purple and dusty
Someone took hold and became his trustee
Eyes opened wide his feet started to shiver
For he saw the woman that had been his giver
There she was so lively and tall
A girl who was once a target for all
She gave him some strength and light to find
The treasure he might have left behind
The girl who once hunted for a chase
Had now become the lady of grace
Meaning: This poetic prose of mine tells the story of how suffering can be turned into strength,
and how a person who survives their own battles can become a source of hope for others. It’s
about healing, emotional rebirth, and the ripple effect of compassion. The “Lady of Grace” is
symbolic of someone who has reclaimed power through vulnerability and now uplifts others.
The enemy’s crown
The time was dark as the cold strode through the doors
And the hearts were in scars as the flakes passed through the pores
The dungeon had been the path of the deep roots and shadows
Away from the light and the blistering meadows
Who knew that the eyes would find solace in the place
Where the vow taken as an oath was expected to stand for its grace
The food was raw and the water was muddy
And the hopes disguised within the bars were so exquisitely cruddy
The lands were taken, the houses were burnt
The ashes from which were gloomy and blunt
Where the pain was the holy credence
Followed by tears so immense
Like a crooked invitation containing a deleterious coincidence
A child was named after his father
A girl was torn apart seeing the departure of her brother
Hearts and mind became secret oasis
For praying became a pattern for re-fixing the traces
Capracious dreams are the things that turn
Like lonely flames are the ones who burn
The fire in their anguish was fueled to cut down
Any hopeful acquaintance that might have stood the ground
The grey of their anguish, laughed uglier than a clown
In shades of jagged jades of dark velvet brown
These thoughts piled up to become a lost prisioner’s memorial
Etched in silence, broken and pictorial
So the faith had now been broken as the eyes started to frown
To find that the lost stones in their diadem
Now glorified the enemy’s crown
Meaning: This poem is a mourning song for those whose pain has been stolen, whose legacies
were used to build the reputation and empire of their enemy. It reflects how war not only kills
the body but hijacks history, and how the “enemy’s crown” is often made from the bones, tears,
and stones of those they destroyed. It’s a brutal commentary on how history is written by the
winners. The victims' stones, which I wrote as symbols of identity, homeland, and pride, are
now in the enemy’s crown used to boast victory, not honor pain.
