Rabeel Baluch, Pakistan English Poetess. Intro And Poems

 Rabeel Baluch, Pakistan English Poetess. Intro And Poems

پاکستان کے صاحب کتاب انگریزی شاعروں کی مختصر فہرست میں اضافہ ہوا ہے. یہ اضافہ ہماری عزیزہ رابیل بلوچ کا ہے. رابیل کے بزرگوں میں بہت سے ادیبوں کے نام شامل ہیں. ان بزرگوں نے اردو میں لکھا. گامن سچار کے نام سے لکھنے والے رابیل کے پرنانا سرائیکی وسیب کے بہت سوں کو یاد ہوں گے. رابیل کی والد کنول بہزاد جانی پہچانی فکشن رائٹر ہیں. ان کے بیسیوں افسانے اور ایک ناول چھپ چکا ہے. رابیل نے انگریزی کو ذریعہ اظہار بنایا ہے. ان کی کتاب The Trees Know Me  صریر پبلیکیشنز نے شائع کی ہے. سرورق شاعرہ نے خود بنایا ہے کہ آخر بہزاد کی بیٹی ہیں. رابیل بی ایس سائیکالوجی کی طالبہ ہیں. ان کی کچھ نظمیں:

Little Bird Poem By Rabil Baluch

Oh, little bird

on the wire

When your heart beats

what does it desire?

When you chirp,

what do you say?

How may grains,

are enough for a day?

I wonder if life,

is good to you

Or is it a struggle,

for you too

Dear little bird,

can you not go?

Stay here a while

outside my window

Can you please sing,

your morning song? 

And make me

forget what’s wrong!

The Forgotten Song

What about that forgotten song?

The one that used to please your ears

You’d listen to it all day long

Wanted to sing it someone dear

But you just never had the chance

And it lay silent in your heart

As all your woes would sing and dance

And your dreams were torn apart

You went from day to night

Trying to keep from tearing

The ragged fabric of time

A sad melody, you kept on hearing

It reminded you of warm and breezy days

Of birds and fragrant flowers

And for no reason you would gaze

At your reflection in broken mirrors

But you never found the missing piece

Nor could tell that what was wrong

But now my friend, make yourself at ease

Let me sing to you, that forgotten song…

The one that used to please your ears

The one you’d listen to all day long!

At the end of the day

Now I’ll hold my sad heart till it finds peace

Maybe the silence will fix the unease

All my songs till they are unheard

I won’t even know what they really mean

With another day gone without a fulfilled dream

It’s time I put my hopes to rest and sleep

Little Bird

Oh, little bird

on the wire

When your heart beats

what does it desire?

When you chirp,

what do you say?

How may grains,

are enough for a day?

I wonder if life,

is good to you

Or is it a struggle,

for you too

Dear little bird,

can you not go?

Stay here a while

outside my window

Can you please sing,

your morning song? 

And make me

forget what’s wrong!

Hope Poem by Rabil Baloch. 

Hope can sprout

in the most barren of lands

it doesn’t need much light

to grow

It becomes the light itself

It becomes the rain

It becomes the breath

And it turns into the seasons 

It transforms into the sky

It becomes the ground beneath

It can become anything

Because hope;

it is everything!

Light

I saw you disappear into the sunlight

It took me some time, to realize

though it was obvious all along

You were the light, not necessary

but still important, like the one

from a single light bulb, that

adds up with the light from

other light bulbs and eventually

makes the whole room brighter

You walked towards the waterfalls 

as they beckoned, shimmered and 

sparkled from your reflection

You sat there like there was nothing else

in this world you’d rather do

than be a part of that wonderous view

And one bright day, I saw you

as you walked with your head low

A beam of sunlight, formed a door

in a red-brick wall, I saw you

as you walked right into it

and dissipated, every molecule 

of you Illuminated, I saw you

disappear; into the sunlight!

A Midnight Drive by Rabeel Baloch

The city of saints seems to be dozing off

as I count the street lights passing by

blinking often, barely keeping its eyes open

The wind hums softly; a lullaby

but I’m awake, and to the city I say

‘Whisper your stories to me, the ones

that daylight will never know. 

Tell me about the dreams

that open eyes will never see.’

And I stay awake, collecting fables

as the city of saints falls asleep.

Aslam Malik