Authors Posts by Furkan Fazili

Furkan Fazili


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I grew up in Kashmir. It is a place where there are different shades to every little possible thing- such beautiful seasons, tears, laughter, untold stories, told stories which can always told in a different colour. So I would say, being a Kashmiri, poetry comes naturally, it is like a child’s curiosity, first to know everything then to convey the same in a cheerful childish way. Kashmir makes one to develop different kind of prisms to imbibe things. I used to read a lot of novels in school, mostly of Paulo Coehlo, Robin Sharma and Dan Brown. Poetry caught my

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By Furqan Fazili A bird weeps alone in a fruitless tree Sun crosses the horizon Moist graves don’t level Unaltered shadows glimmer in smoky air Unwritten lines on hands hide wails A prayer goes unanswered again A garden of corpses floats on a lake A boatman rows on saffron water Red bark of Chinar nailed to slumber White fortress bleeds tonight Thorny hands water a sprouting enemy Autumn blooms in spring The Angel of Life promises death Chaotic breeze combs time Eyes wait at the shrieking doors A liberal soul in hidden corners Red snowflakes cover a road to heaven A

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Alone a bird weeps, on a fruitless tree, with his head bowed sun crosses the horizon The moist graves, don’t seem to level , unaltered shadows glimmer in the smoky air Unwritten lines of hands hide the wailing mouth, Again a prayer remained unanswered The garden of corpses floats on a lake, a boatman rows on the saffron water Red bark of Chinar, nailed to slumber, White fortress bleeds tonight Thorny hands of friends water a Sprouting enemy, in spring autumn blooms Promised death by the angel of life, Chaotic breeze combs time At the shrieking doors, eyes wait to