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Poetry of Safdar Bhatti

Mark the bewitching bright lustre
Of feminine accomplishment
An arch, ampler brow
White as the snow
Where Love skats for hours
Fringed by the reddish ringlets

And mesmerizing eyes
Twinkling like the skies
Of a moonlit night
Beacons of richest light
Warm, visionary, elate,
Ah! Love's lucid flow!
They ardently greet
The ever dreaming heart
Flashing many a dart
From the Cupid's bow

And the coral pair
Of smiling rosebuds
Oh! the magnetic studs
Above symmetrical chin
Added by the winning grace
Of a sweet Roman nose
Make one eternally dose
In visions of Aphrodisiac regime

Where Graces love to play
Waltzing day and night
In jubilant ecstasy


We, almost every one of us, stick
To the obsessions of our own
Inconsiderate of others howsoever sick
Howsoever worn, are thrown
Their pleadings ruthlessly away
The poor souls, the headstrong clay

And if the miserable soul tries
The obsessed other for little relief
From Topsy-turvy longings' cries
From sorrow, from corrosive grief
Howsoever earnest the poor one implores
The self-centered other strictly denies
Blessing a mildewed heart nothing but sores

See, how civilized are the Beings grown
The peace-loving, love-spreading humankind
Tongues are polite yet the actions frown.



Art, my dear, is the soul of an artist
Art, my dear, is heart's expressions
Art, my dear, is a fond lover's kiss
Art, my dear, is the blackbird's song
Art, my dear, is the candles-lit sky
Art, my dear, is the blooming daisy
Art, my dear, is the texture of rose
Art, my dear, is the aromatic scent
Inspires the souls to waltz
In the richest of ecstasies

Art, my dear, is the changing moon
Art, my dear, is the rising sun
Art, my dear, is to portray the heart
In a pleasant array of melodic verse
To win one's heart, to alleviate pain
Of the worldly weariness
Of an old wrinkled face
Art, my dear, is the goodly grace
Of the Artist Divine.

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Poetry of Safdar Bhatti
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