main ne jo git tere pyar ki khatir likkheaj un giton ko bazar mein le aaya hunaj dukan pe nilam uthega un katune jin giton pe rakkhi thi muhabbat ki asasaj chandi ki tarazu mein tulegi har cheezmere afakar meri shayari mera ehasasjo teri zat se manasub the un giton komuflisi jins banane pe utar aayi haibhuk tere rukherangin ki fasanon ki ivazchand aashiyaezarurat ki tamannai haidekh is arsagahemehanatosarmaya meinmere naghmay bhi mere pas nahi rah sakatetere jalve kisi zaradar ki miras sahitere khake bhi mere pas nahi rah sakateaj un giton ko bazar mein le aaya hunmain ne jo git tere pyar ki khatir likkhePoet of the poem/ghazal or Nazam: Sahir Ludhianvi

cha rahi kali ghata jiya mora laharaye haisun ri koyal banvari tu kyun malahar gaye haiae papiha aa idhar main bhi sarapa dard hunaam par kyun jam raha hai main bhi to aisi zard hunfarq itna hai ki us mein ras hai mujh mein hay haisare aazaron se badhake ishq ka aazar haiaafaton mein janodil ka dalana bekar haibevafa se dil lagakar kya koi phal paye haiae papiha chup khuda ke vaste tu ho zararat aadhi ho chuki hai ab tujhe kya hogayateri pipi se papiha pi mujhe yad aaye haimuddaton dhundha piya ko main ne kar jogan ka bhesna to main ne un ko paya aur na paya un ka deslog kahate hain ki dhundhe se khuda mil jaye haiPoet of the poem/ghazal or Nazam: Jurrat

Let me be your friend todaythat’s what I’d like to do.I’ll show you a smile a country mileand give my heart to you.If you are feeling lonely –and don’t know what to do.Just take my hand and walk with me,and I’ll be a friend for you.I’ll give you a day with sunshine –and flowers all in bloom,and take you to the Master,He’ll take away your gloom.Let me be your friend today –and chase away your fears.I’ll show you love you’ve never seen,and dry away your tears.I will treat you very special –and ease your worried mind.and rest assured you’ll always bea favorite friend of mine.

Happy Mother’s Day to a mothertobe!All that you can answer will be asked.Perhaps at times you’ll answer gracefully;Perhaps at times you will be overtasked.Yet what will matter mainly will be love —More than theories, regimens, mistakes,Omissions, commissions, practices that proveToo rigid for the worlds a child shapes.Have faith that you will love far more than youEven now imagine that you might,Reborn within the birth of someone new,‘Mid storms and calm the keeper of the light.So may this prolonged anticipation,Dappled with some streaks of trepidation,At last give way to that long lookedfor other,Yielding both a child and a mother!

Happy Mother’s Day to those whose childrenAre those for whom their love must be their womb,Pleased to labor in a common gardenPruning plants they would themselves have sown.Yes, praise to those whose love is notwithstanding,Mothers who could not be mothers, yetOf charity and need came to the calling,Taking from the world what joy they would.How well the will can ride an errant wind!Each fate is but the field of our endeavor.Reason may resist our heartfelt ends‘Ere we share our passions with another.So may we all, through sacrifice and love,Daily do what will our spirits prove,Asking only for what we might give,Yielding not our labors but our lives.

Teri khushbu ka pata karati haiMujh pe ehasan hawa karati haiShab ki tanhai may ab to aksarGuftagu tujh se raha karati haiDil ko us rah pe chalana hi nahiJo mujhe tujh se juda karati haiZindagi meri thi lekin ab toTere kahane may raha karati haiUs ne dekha hi nahi warna ye ankhDil ka ehawal kaha karati haiBeniyaz e kaf e dariya angushtRet par nam likha karati haiSham parate hi kisi shakhs ki yadKucha e jan may sada karati haiMujh se bhi us ka hai waisa hi sulukHal jo tera ana??? Karati haiDukh hua karata hai kuch aur bayanBat kuch aur hua karati haiAbr barase to inayat us kiShakh to sirf dua karati haiMasala jab bhi utha chiragon kaFaisala sirf hawa karati hai

fasale aise bhi honge ye kabhi socha na thasamane baitha tha mere aur wo mera na thawo ki khushbu ki tarah phaila tha mere char sumain use mahasus kar sakata tha chu sakata na tharaat bhar us ki hi aahat kan mein aati rahijhank kar dekha gali mein koi bhi aaya na thaaks to maujud the par aks tanahai ki theaaina to tha magar us mein tera chehara na thaaj us ne dard bhi apne alahada kar diyeaj main roya to mere sath wo roya na thaye sabhi viraniyan us ki juda hone se thinaankh dhundhalai hui thi shahar dhundhalaya na thayaad karake aur bhi takalif hoti thi “adeem”bhool jane ki siva ab koi bhi chara na thaPoet of the poem/ghazal or Nazam: Adeem Hashmi

chal mere sath hi chal ae meri janegazalin samajon ke banaye huye bandhan se nikal, chalhum vahan jaye jahan pyar pe pahare na lagendil ke daulat pe jahan koi lutere na lagenkab hai badala ye zamana, tu zamane ko badal, chalpyar sacha ho to rahen bhi nikal aati hainbijaliyan arsh se khud rasta dikhalati haintu bhi bijali ke tarah gam ke andheron se nikal, chalapne milane pe jahan koi bhi ungali na utheapani chahat pe jahan koi dushman na hanseched de pyar se tu sazemohabbategazal, chalpiche mat dekh na shamil ho gunahagaron maisamane dekh ki manzil hai teri taron maibat banati hai agar dil mai irade hon atal, chalPoet of the poem/ghazal or Nazam: Hasrat Jaipuri

A Mother’s love, is sure to findA way to comfort, ease your mind She knows just how, to build you upWhen you’re so down, and can’t look up You love the way, she makes you feelLike you’re so special, her ideal Her thought must start, with God aboveTo bring such caring, with such love And as it flows, like gentle rainIt surely helps, when troubles pain The love from mine, is oh so clearI only wish, she was still here Her warming glow, is missed each dayEven though, I seldom say But she did leave, her gift behindTo help me through, when I may pine And that’s the feel, known deep insideHer faith and love, I still confideby Roger J. Robicheau

A villanelle for Mother’s DayShould take me just about an hour:Writing it is child’s play.Because I know just what to say,And rhyming’s quite within my power,To write it should be child’s play.Yet plain speech is not my way:I look for leaves to shade my flower,This villanelle for Mother’s Day.I do not wish to sound too fey,Obscure, mystic, gushy, sour–Arggh! Writing’s never child’s play!Yes, childish! To my dismay,Far beyond the allotted hour,This villanelle for Mother’s DayDawdles on. Let me just sayIt plain: I love you, and so end ourVillanelle for Mother’s Day.(Well … writing it was child’s play.)

go zara si baat par barason ke yarane gayelekin itna to hua kuch log pahachane gayegarmiemahafil faqat ik naraemastana haiaur wo khush hain ki is lahafil se divane gayemain ise shoharat kahun ya apni ruswai kahunmujhase pahale us gali mein mere afasane gayeyun to wo meri ragejan se bhi the nazadik taraansuon ke dhundh mein lekin na pahachane gayevahashaten kuch is tarah apana muqadar ho gainhum jahan pahunche hamare sath virane gayeab bhi un yadon ke khushbu zehan mein mahafus haibarha hum jin se gulazaron ko mahakane gayekya qayamat hai ki ‘khatir’ kushtaeshab bhi the humsubh jab hui to mujarim hum hi gardane gayePoet of the poem/ghazal or Nazam: Khatir Ghaznavi

go zara si baat par barason ke yarane gayelekin itna to hua kuch log pahachane gayegarmiemahafil faqat ik naraemastana haiaur wo khush hain ki is lahafil se divane gayemain ise shoharat kahun ya apni ruswai kahunmujhase pahale us gali mein mere afasane gayeyun to wo meri ragejan se bhi the nazadik taraansuon ke dhundh mein lekin na pahachane gayevahashaten kuch is tarah apana muqadar ho gainhum jahan pahunche hamare sath virane gayeab bhi un yadon ke khushbu zehan mein mahafus haibarha hum jin se gulazaron ko mahakane gayekya qayamat hai ki ‘khatir’ kushtaeshab bhi the humsubh jab hui to mujarim hum hi gardane gayePoet of the poem/ghazal or Nazam: Khatir Ghaznavi

How might one be a mother without children,As though the contract weren’t writ in blood?Perhaps one’s fate is more received than given,Placed where one might seize it, if one would.Yet what is cannot be undone.Make of it the music of your dance,Organ raptures ripped from ancient stone,Transforming life to beauty from blind chance.How might one be a mother in one’s heart,Embodying within the act the dream?Reality is part terrain, part art,‘Twixt earth and will more lithe than it might seem.So might the childless their children bear,Delighting in a discourse no less rare,As one makes of one’s fate a gift that mayYield grace attainable no other way.

Because existence can become severein one day,just sense me and I’ll be there.In the minds eye,I’m not so far away.If you hold out your hand,in the whispers,I’ll become the zephyr.and besiege you.If your eye’s upon the stars,in the crystalline darkness,I’ll become the moon.And the light shall guide you.If you rest upon the ground,in the warmth,I’ll become the grass.And embrace you.If you turn outside,in the wetness,I’ll become the rain.An upon your forehead, kiss you.If you free the air,in the light of day,I’ll become the sun.And smile for you.Between the milesif you need me.If you need a friend.Let me be the friend, I want to be

Light, so low upon earth,You send a flash to the sun.Here is the golden close of love,All my wooing is done.Oh, the woods and the meadows,Woods where we hid from the wet,Stiles where we stay’d to be kind,Meadows in which we met!Light, so low in the valeYou flash and lighten afar,For this is the golden morning of love,And you are his morning star.Flash, I am coming, I come,By meadow and stile and wood,Oh, lighten into my eyes and heart,Into my heart and my blood!Heart, are you great enoughFor a love that never tires?O’ heart, are you great enough for love?I have heard of thorns and briers,Over the meadow and stiles,Over the world to the end of itFlash for a million miles.