Shahid Batalvi Speaks

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Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

City of Memories

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“Reh ja’oon ga chal’tay chal’tay
ShaMa ke ma’nind jal’tay jal’tay”

“One day I will stop for I can walk no more
Like the burning candle that glows no more”

Ijaz Husain Batalvi
September 7th, 1923 – March 7th, 2004

Written by Shahid Batalvi

March 8, 2013 at 9:12 pm

Posted in Personal, poetry

The First Snow by jLaLi FaqeeR

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Snow, it cleanses all
The storm cometh, nigh
Snow falls to the ground, silent
Blood screams in my ears
Falls to the ground, silent
Blood, like snow, cleanses all

Written by Shahid Batalvi

July 28, 2012 at 11:49 pm

Posted in poetry

First Light by jLaLi FaqeeR – Planet Earth post human species

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Is this the first light?
Look yonder, beyond the stars
There are no words, to breathe
It is quiet, deathly quiet
Only the sounds of sentience
And the voice of nothingness
The forest awakens, gently
And the rain streams to the sea
The words are finished
The people are gone

Written by Shahid Batalvi

July 28, 2012 at 4:15 pm

Posted in poetry

Walk

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How long have I walked
In nothing but scorching heat
My shadow is dead
Ashes lie beneath my feet

Written by Shahid Batalvi

October 24, 2010 at 3:31 am

Posted in poetry

“The First Story” is dedicated to Neda Agha Soltan

with 5 comments

 
I had written "The First Story" as my own perception of mankind’s evolutionary hope and subsequent disillusionment that humanity’s collective salvation is a farce. The poem was orignally dedicated to all who die as a result of so called ethnic based violence but today I dedicate "The First Story" to the story of the life and death of Neda Agha Soltan. To those who have never witnessed violent death of innocent people through deliberate acts of others, I hope you are never confronted with that situation. To those who have had to pick up the remains of dead children under such circumstances and have spent sleepless nights since, this world has failed you.
 
My President says, "we’ve experienced the searing image of a woman bleeding to death on the street. While this loss is raw and extraordinarily painful, we also know this: those who stand up for justice are always on the right side of history."
 
And I say, "Neda, as the last warrior, you carried that burning ember of life in your heart and all you wanted was collective human freedom and the ability to express it, devoid of political bias, and you were silenced by a fiery, manmade, projectile of lead". You said, "It burned me". And then all embers became ashen ….
 
For those who read Urdu and are looking for a more specific context, read Faiz’s poem "Irani tLaba kae naAm" which was written during the first Iranian Revolution.
 
Yay koN skHy hAen
Jin kae lahU ke
aShrfian, cHn cHn, cHn cHn
dHrti kae paeHm pyAsay
kSHkol maen Dhlti jati Haen
kSHkol ko bHrti jati Haen ……
 
 
June 22, 2009
The First Story
 
Tell me again, holy mother
The first story
 
When humanity had carried
That burning ember
From the erupting volcano
In searing hands, towards the cave
 
That thunderous night
With rivers of fire
Weary men watched your fury
Till dawn swept anew
 
Holy mother, your ancient warriors
They touched your body, with silent passion
You gave birth to hope, that burning night
And made ravaged mortals, a kingdom of men
 
Now your last warrior
With seared hands
Lays by the abyss
Water drips, on ashen embers
 
August 25, 2008
 
 
Dedicated to all who have died and will continue die in ethnic based violence in Palestine, Israel, Kashmir,
Pakistan, India, Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, Lebanon, Sudan, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Somalia, El Salvador,
Yugoslavia, Northern Ireland, Namibia, Angola, Mozambique, Cambodia and many other
such lands where dispossessed humanity strives to find its salvation. 
 
Ethnic based violence has its roots in excessive socio-economic, socio-cultural and socio-political disparity
within and among nation states. This disparity, in turn, finds its basis in a delibrate and calculated
want, and not need, to maintain illiteracy, poverty and political disenfrancisement.
 
When a large swath of humanity is left marginalized and dispossessed for far too long in
far too many parts of the world, the affects will manifest themselves in ways that 
are now becoming visible. These affects are seemingly decoupled from their
actual causal chain but are associated with religious, ethnic and national
 contention and benefit the self-serving interests of the same.
  

Written by Shahid Batalvi

June 22, 2009 at 9:39 pm

Posted in poetry

The First Story

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Tell me again, holy mother
The first story
 
When humanity had carried
That burning ember
From the erupting volcano
In searing hands, towards the cave
 
That thunderous night
With rivers of fire
Weary men watched your fury
Till dawn swept anew
 
Holy mother, your ancient warriors
They touched your body, with silent passion
You gave birth to hope, that burning night
And made ravaged mortals, a kingdom of men
 
Now your last warrior
With seared hands
Lays by the abyss
Water drips, on ashen embers
 
August 25, 2008
 
 
Dedicated to all who have died and will continue die in ethnic based violence in Palestine, Israel, Kashmir,
Pakistan, India, Afghanistan, Iraq, Lebanon, Sudan, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Somalia, El Salvador, Yugoslavia,
Northern Ireland, Namibia, Angola, Mozambique, Cambodia and many other such lands
 where dispossessed humanity strives to find its salvation. 
 
Ethnic based violence has its roots in excessive socio-economic, socio-cultural and socio-political disparity
within and among nation states. This disparity, in turn, finds its basis in a delibrate and calculated
want, and not need, to maintain illiteracy, poverty and political disenfrancisement.
 
When a large swath of humanity is left marginalized and dispossessed for far too long in
far too many parts of the world, the affects will manifest themselves in ways that 
are now becoming visible. These affects are seemingly decoupled from their
actual causal chain but are associated with religious, ethnic and national
 contention and benefit the self-serving interests of the same.
  

Written by Shahid Batalvi

February 17, 2009 at 9:01 am

Posted in poetry

Who walks there

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A leaf trembles and falls
Now one with mother earth
The forest beckons
Towards a new life
Silent footsteps
Who walks there
Man or beast
Shedding primordial skin
In dark silence
And then, he speaks
 
 
July 3, 2008

Written by Shahid Batalvi

July 15, 2008 at 9:02 pm

Posted in poetry