PESHAWAR
The blind guns
Spat fire at their dreams
the flowers withered in their buds
the  many untold stories
their green flannels and grey trousers
reddened with the stillness of death
YET-----
The fire set ablaze
Sure will not destroy---
rather enlighten all
---towards more dreams
                     more stories
                     more knowledge
To stand, To unite, To fight
                                                 Lazin.M

..  .. waiting to be born....

Here lies the house of the dead
Souls awaiting salvation..
Caught in those twists and turns of black and white
not sure of their destiny
Will they curse their creator
Who left them half way,
captives in the yellowing pages?
They who live in those three unfinished novels
By now acquainted with one another?
Those lying still from 5years to months
Those dwelling in those crazy poems and short stories
Though completed
Can boast no pride
For they still stand hidden from the world outside.
A set of naked white sheets await their turns hopefully in vain
For that single stroke of the pen.
 Dear ones ,to you I owe my apology
I am the Genie captivated in that bottle
Of job,home and responsibilty.
When the all-pervasive time snaps it open
Only then..
Then  will you be reborn!!