Prison Hold

When the setting sun disperses
the coloured nuances –
it’s time to forge fortresses of steel


© Fiza Arshad, 2017 All rights reserved.



Candid Beginnings: Life is Hard Work


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Morning, fellow readers! Wishing all of you a happy Labour Day weekend. It has been a while since I have blogged a normal, contemplative post (yes, that’s me admitting poetry is special), and I figured perhaps it’s time to step into this rarity seeing that I do have a lot to say. Making the effort to do so is where I fall short, and that’s my yardstick measure of “is it worth it”, “does this need to be said”, or “would people actually care to know”.

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Maybe the wind was created so that I could caress
you gently. Washing pain with cotton wool
like how my Nana used to kiss away my bruises,
with promises of rainbows and sprinkles.

Now I come back to life, absorbing your bleak,
breathing Stardust into you again.







© Fiza Arshad, 2017 All rights reserved.




A stream near my backyard
with its twists and bends mended
the loose knots of the woolen sweater
my mum made every night

after her work caressing corn out on the cotton fields
from dawn till when the sun stops breathing.

Always moving – flowing.






© Fiza Arshad, 2017 All rights reserved.