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#Poetry ‘I Met A Japanese Today …’ by Fiza Pathan

I Met A Japanese Today …

By Fiza Pathan


Lao Tzu

Lao Tzu

I met a Japanese today asking me for a lift to the Himalayas
I took her to the land of Tao Te Ching
and then she refused my humble company
thinking me to be a swindler.

Now I’m waiting in a coffee shop in Israel
for someone to lift my spirits to the heights of the sages
but no one wishes to take me home.

So here I am this warm morning
stuck in a land of unleavened bread and fish
but I have no fears for the dwellers of the caves are my refuge
the hermit of the exotic hills are my true friends.

Leave this poor soul home
under the shade of the banyan tree
near the feet of my teacher.

I will be content to sing a hymn to Lao Tzu
while I pine over good days spent
and strong tea made by the hands of the spirits of Ceylon.

Lonely I am in this desert like land of Jews so ancient.
Take me home to my land called the country of the Hindus
and I promise that I’ll never leave its borders again.

I beg every traveler I see,
but they hold the Torah in their palms
so with regret I return to my place
tucking my Bhagvad Gita in my breast pocket.

I then order for another cup of coffee
to while away the time.
Shangri-La is the land on my way
but I do not care for it.

Call me home dear spirit of the flute player
so that I may sleep in peace at last
in your holy temple at your feet.


Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan

Image courtesy: Google images/wikipedia


#Poetry ‘The Roaring Tempest’ by Fiza Pathan

The Roaring Tempest

By Fiza Pathan


The Wrath of the Sea

The Wrath of the Sea

The thunder claps to the beat
of the sorrow that cries out from the deep.

The sea spreads out its wave like claws
to drown the vessel of the mariner─
yet the night full of fantasies moans to the call of the one
that braves the storm of the callous laughter.

Where is the boat of the fisherman who risks his life
to catch the food of the oceans yawning embrace?

Call out to the tempest and say that I
have bared my bosom to its roar and yet I see─
the sea froths at the mouth.

Let me marry the gale that
has run its course throughout this warning night.

The shores of the empty beach beckon the wrecked ship
to run its spine into the sand of changes─
but what must the wooden decks do but crash into pieces
and scatter its remains afloat over the waters.

I need shelter from the monster that raises
its hand from the waters in turmoil.

I have to swim away from the horrors of the sea
so eagerly awaiting me to enter my watery grave.

I cook some fish to eat to while away the aeons
that have formed the waters
which brings forth life in the form of its creative vomit.

The night is long but the light house is haunted
─shadows of dead sailors walk up its steps
to light the path upon which I have to sail.

Poseidon the god of the waters,
calm the hatred that you have in your heart
for the voyager who wishes to lie at rest
at the bottom of the sea.

Hear the wail of the storm
that bathes me in cold deaths watery caress─
don’t ignore the poet o tempest of the darkness
but serve me now to sink my bones
into your saving chilly arms.

Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan

Image courtesy: Google images/wikipaintings


#Poetry ‘A Poet’s Obsession with Blood’ by Fiza Pathan

A Poet’s Obsession with Blood

By Fiza Pathan



Tear away the hunger from your face
and arouse within yourself the thirst
for the force that creates life – the thirst for blood.

Blood is the life said the prophet of the cross
and its thirst begins from the crescent of the soul.

Love betrayed me and my lover took my life force away.
Therefore, I cling to the wounds upon my own flesh
for salvation by drinking my own blood.
I can’t help it readers for the pain of the eternal flesh
peels the skin off my sensitivity.

So don’t hurt me more than I lacerate my own body
─its blood I need to nourish the ache
that has seeped like poison into my heart.

I’m not pale to the eye dearest reader
but I don’t drown myself
in the base vampire instinct all the time.

My fangs pierce my own aorta to yell my soul’s cry
to the minions of hell that surround me and my cross of wood.

Let me lick the liquid from the slash
that I have made upon my wrist─

Nectar of the Greek gods wouldn’t taste so heavenly
than this holy nourishing blood that oozes
gracefully out of my veins
like the graceful nymph of Ireland.

The salty taste aggravates the empty space
between my two breasts to pain me more
than I am worthy of.

Eat of my flesh and drink of my blood
said the Son of Humanity to his disciples of worthy robes.

I can live hungry dear reader ─ but not thirsty
as my elementals are like the monsoon cuckoo
that cries to me for blood ─ more and more blood.

So I with my holy dagger cut each and every part
of my sinful hide to act the vampire of Gothic romance to insanity.

Stigmatize this worthless sinner O Lord of all that is
so that piercing my life to blood drops I may enter your kingdom
The Holy Koran said that man was fashioned
by one drop of the creations blood─
let me therefore raise a toast to my creator
with the Holy Grail in which is contained my own blood.


Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan

Image courtesy:

#Poetry ‘Your Promises’ by Fiza Pathan

Your Promises

By Fiza Pathan


The pain in my chest gets more intense
whenever I recall the promises you did not keep
dear old lover of my long lost embrace.

You promised to protect me from the lewd glares of every conman
but now, I find myself facing these challenges alone
because my old lover has left me for my best friend.

You promised to keep my worries in the treasure house of your heart
and in exchange you would produce for me a pearl of rare value
but now, all those poetic expressions seem to have been spoken in vain
all because my old lover has deserted my offerings of peace.

You promised to dance the nights of our happiness together
with me below the twinkling stars of the nocturnal world
but now, the nights torment me with no sleep for my crying eyes
all because my darling old lover does not care for my state of being anymore.

You promised to exchange my shackles with wedding gold bracelets
which would glow the dawn of sunrise to shame because of its brightness
but now, my arms are empty and bare, all because my old lover
has taken my old best friend to be his wife.

You promised to lurk always in the arteries of my heart
so that I would never feel lonely even when my ruddy heart
would long for the companionship of your touch
but now, my heart bleeds staining my emotions
and my pillow weeps my tears dry because
you cheated me with false hopes my dearest old lover.

You promised to play your guitar to our first born making him
into musicians just like us with melody and ballads
mixing together forming the curd of true sweetness
but now, I am forever to remember barren because
my lover has torn my motherhood from my very soul
by marrying my old comrade.

You promised me many things dear lover
but fulfilled nothing.

Yet know dearest that one day
when your lover will abandon your side
and you will call out to the hounds of hell to kill you
──there will I be like Diana to save you from yourself
for my love cannot be ridden off,
even if you have forgotten your promises.


Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan

Image courtesy:


#Poetry ‘And Maybe Eternity’ by Fiza Pathan

And Maybe Eternity

By Fiza Pathan

The Milky Way

The Milky Way


It’s the everlasting bond of love
shared between the entrails of my red heart
that calls out to you to fasten
the blood red cords around my throat
to stop my living essence from asserting itself.

What is my life darling without
blood to drink and flesh to eat?
You have deserted me to the vultures
and they feast upon my liver
thinking me to be Prometheus.

But I’ve not stolen life from anyone,
I’ve merely lost mine in loving you
like a woman tortured by her own existence.

Now I’m out to get you dearest
for taking the light out of eyes,
but no violence leads me towards you
but the flowers red and yellow of our first meeting
that shall be etched in the astral light
as an image of amour forever more.

Non-violence of the Mahatma
do I offer to you my dearest─
the wounds so deep have been cooled
by the spring waters of passive resistance.

I love you dearest and I will tear my chest
before I hear you torment my poor innocent soul
for adoring your image in the chamber of my soul.

I want to give you more love dearest
than take away that which is rightfully mine.

I want to love your heart darling lover
and spread a bouquet of flowers at its altar
and dance before it like a harlot
that I have become for your sake.

Hear me O Gods, you make the weak more stronger─
not me but the bard of the English Hebrides says these words
and they have tested to be true.

So in my weakness I envelop myself in your hate for me
so that by my God given strength,
I may turn the hatred and lust within you
into a platonic love that will last a lifetime
──and maybe eternity.


Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan

Image courtesy:


#Poetry ‘Voice Of The Silence’ by Fiza Pathan

Voice Of The Silence

By Fiza Pathan

Top post on, the community of Indian Bloggers


Mount Kailash

Mount Kailash

Silence is my loudest scream to the oceans beckoning
me to lament my lover’s transgression.

Woe to this hostile environment of noise and clamour
that strangles the throat of silence─
silence and solitude bring forth babes of holy orders
so that I shall leave this world and carry
my silence onward towards the land of the sages.

The Himalayas so handsome and broad chested
hide gems of people in its lonely snow clad abode.

Let me leave my past in the hands of these noble ones
who ponder the elementals to form a white lotus of peace
in the mind of a disturbed lover such as me.

I’m a poet not a saint and so I empathize with the elementals
and weep with them as they pour the fresh holy waters
of the Ganges upon my wearisome face.

The Mahatmas and the Adepts calm my soul
and call me by my true name, the name
of the most sinful and saddened poet.

They make a bed of straw for me to rest my weary head in peace
while they starve my body of its arrogance with injections
and needles galore to bring forth unholy blood from my entrails.

This is the land of the silent monk of the Buddha
and the Rishi of Shiva’s abode who brings me my silence
sprinkled with jasmine flowers and the scent of my old lover.

A way to the heavens the poet passes when the bad blood
in me is replaced with the voice of the silence─
how long shall I live in the voice of the silence
is immaterial for you dear readers.

However, in the darkest hour of the abode of the incorruptibles
a slender flame will leap from my breast made hollow by abstinence
which will dip my pen in bile and write forth my last poem to the heavens
to the Preserver who rests on the body of a hundred-headed serpent.


Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan

Image courtesy: Google images; Wikipedia/Wikimedia




#Poetry ‘You Are My Very Own’ by Fiza Pathan

You Are My Very Own

By Fiza Pathan

Top post on, the community of Indian Bloggers


Sunset and Moonrise

Sunset and Moonrise

You are in the sketch of the stars
along the manuscript of the milky way my dear lover.

Your water coloured portrait stares back at me
to caress my gaze into the arms of your loving embrace.

You still my senses dear lover
and your handsome frame bestows upon my eye socket
gifts of tender graces that I am surely unworthy of.

Do you think of me dear loved one of my heart
as your day progresses into the zone of the nocturnal twilight?

Does your sweet smile echo
with the sound of my name in a chant like tone?

For me dearest of my soul you are the heaven
upon which the firmament bears its holy burden.

You are my only desire in this materialistic world
of temptations more sublime than an atmosphere
overflowing with the scent of jasmine flowers.

Your eyes so soft are my altar dear one
where I burn sacrifice after sacrifice like the loved besotted Abel
whose gaze was penetrated by the Lord of our destiny.

Come to me darling like a child so tender of years
relaxes in the arms of his mother.

I will tend to your worries and your dreams
just say but a word and I’ll be by your side
to console your bleeding heart.

Lover of my eternity
why do you not want to covet me?
Am I as base as bronze or lead,
that you stay away from me?

What is my crime dearest one
isn’t it plain to you that I love you dearly
more than I love my sanity?

I pace away along the corridors of my heart,
telling the red muscular walls to be patient,
as I wait for you to love me.

O noble prince and my panacea
slither no more like a serpent
in the blindness of my sight.

But with fangs pointed and sharp
bite my breast in the sight of every angel
so that I may know that you
are not an outsider but my very own.


Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan

Image courtesy:


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