Haidar's Corner

A shiver along my spine... A chatter by my teeth... A shudder out of my body... A mutter from my mouth... A stupor-filled pair of feet... A fearful face of countenance... A tearful set of eyes... A painful body of flesh... A dreadful piece of mind... A sorrowful suspense of heart... A blanket of warmth... A sachet of coffee... A nugget of pie... A bucket of bathwater... A bassinet bedding A refreshing massage... A healing balm... A loving calm... A sweeping solitude... A renewing start...   Haidar Wali 201203211159

Poetry For Nurture Poets are born, yet there's also nurture. The age old unending tussle   That pits genes against nature Remains a befitting puzzle To tease minds ‘mature’ Would we have Beethoven Without a Haydn Would we enjoy Five Alive Without Messrs Chivita Smiles… Would we have Poets without the setting Like a beautiful picture of a garden with no plants Or a sumptuously laid out dish with no drink Ah! But which is which? Do genes make the man, Or circumstances dictate the plan? Yet someone said Genes are part of the plan.   Haidarwali 201312201301hrs

The mosquito; A nocturnal insect of prey. Night is its time of operation, Its time of attack... For as soon as Day runs away, And Night unveils itself, Out will come the insect of prey. Its whine and whir, Is alone enough, To distress anyone of us... And this is just icing on the cake! For added to this nuisance is its bites, Which are double the horror; Of the sound it makes. This insect of prey relents not, Causing nothing but sleeplessness to us; What an utter dismay! The whole night thus will it be, If it ever knew a thing as a brief respite... Unless of course you take precaution, Against this dreadful brat. Now when you really think of it One would hardly see any use to it However God who created it thus Must have made it for a known purpose Though we humans will not see Any use for this creature Which steals sleep, naps and an occasional siesta The Mosquito; Nocturnal Insect of Prey. Haidar Wali 2001

When I wrote my first I knew I’d get life I was a born inmate Of the Poetic Prison In cells of Poems Behind bars of Verses And on beds of Stanzas   I slept Some made as couplets Others as triplets Even some odes Of different lengths In court against me As I stood in dock guiltily Rhyme and rhythm testified They betrayed me As sentence was passed I heaved a sigh At least I was lucky That I wasn’t to die But it wasn’t bad after all For in the Poetic Prison I’ve kinsfolk and friends And acquaintances, a bagful So I’m not alone All I need now Is a Poetic License To be a full member But they tell me it’s free How would I know being a novice? Accidentally put away In the Poetic Prison Haidar Wali 2003 11 06 1622

I’ve only seen him at a time I knew nothing Nowadays it’s through a white man’s innovation I’ve heard many things ‘bout him, Usually short and trim In fear of hurting me What really hurts me Is never having a chance meeting Not to even exchanging a greeting Yet of Him I’m surely proud For to his Lord he surely bowed No other blessing can surpass belief And though his stay with us was brief; It may be for the best in relief He never got to be a great General Nor was he given a rich retired soldier’s burial But that he died trying to fend for his family Is a tribute sought by so many His death was a great tragedy Thus with prayers do we honor his memory Such was the Great Man I never knew May Allah grant Baffa eternal peace Haidar Wali (March 2001)

I was trekking along the mountain Ignorance Thinking I was very near the peak of Enlightenment Cold wind of Understanding blew Birds of Truth with White Feathers flew I realized I was drowning in Lake Deception Sinking into Quicksand Oblivion... And then I awoke from Dream Fantasy To face Utter Reality. Haidar Wali 201305231543

My mind thinks of things beyond And then it swirls in a little pond It seems as if by nature it abounds For it interprets the slightest of sounds There are no boundaries in the process There is no limit in trying to access The links are infinite And likewise are they definite My mind thinks of things beyond And surely of it I am fond      HAIDAR WALI

If only never were really never... How easy it would be... not to remember... Within a hand's grasp... burns the ember... Though stillness of reality... Has made it smother... The pain is more than ever... More pronounced... For every August always heralds The four months of '...ember'. If only Never were like the flow of a river; Ever-flowing, returning never... Haidarwali 201512171242hrs

If I were to weave a poem... I'd spin one that's made of silk. If I were to mold a poem... I'd cast it with kaolin clay. If I were to sculpt a poem... I'd chisel it out of jade. If I were to paint a poem... I'd brush it with acrylics. If I were to cultivate a poem... I'd tend it with humus soil If I were to write a poem... I'd compose it with the foregoing words.   Haidar Wali 201203101756hrs

Mystique, Confusing, Complicated, Heady, intoxicating, Thrilling yet stressful Prospectful, inviting, Compromisingly, hypocritical Daring, beautiful, Full and empty A journey, A heartbeat Love and be loved It's like juxtaposing Yet only one is seen  Of two sides of a coin Can't see both Though you hold in your palms TBC... Haidar Wali  201304101805hrs

Mom has surely been my source of inspiration If not for her my life would’ve been tattered Torn apart by neglect and deprivation It’s still one piece thanks to my lovely Mother In times of sorrow, sadness and dejection There’s always been a nook and cranny of affection Wherein my mistakes are pointed out For mistakes are made to be corrected And amended for the better Mother’s pioneered all my efforts towards survival It’s as if each breath she takes is for my revival And though of her nature I’m not yet saturated There’s room for more and more: unabated ‘Cos understanding is the root of success Success may still depend on the situation And it’s necessary for there to be dedication ‘Tis a trait that Mom has taught us from the cradle And not to make unnecessary fuss But to be patient and enduring If one was to list the many morals, Ideals, principles and other important disciplines, To be acquired from Mom One would surely exhaust Both...

You carefully read every row Of a piece to get the flow Yet with Codes and ciphers in tow They block and make you miss! How? Even after having another go One wouldn’t discover or know What's hidden by the clever fellow He slips, weaves, and has sown Intricacy, beautifully embedded so As nothing is by chance, NO! Haidar 201306201615hrs

Dear   Son, I know I’m writing this a bit early for you to fully comprehend. But in these times of uncertainty no-one knows tomorrow so it is better one documents these things in case of my absence when I won’t be there to talk to you. Every parent's expectation and prayers is to hand over the 'baton' of the relay of life to their offspring.  So first let me start by saying that I want you to never forget that I love you my son and I hope that Allah grants me the opportunity to see you become an independent, courageous, balanced, educated and literate grown man. And  know that your mother has this feeling even more than I can ever attempt to equal. I want you to also know that I personally expect you to follow your own path with our guidance as your parents. We believe that you have the capacity to do so much in this world and only you can stop yourself from being as great as you want to be. I have dreams that I’ve held in my heart since I was...