RIZWAN AKHTAR - POEMS

RIZWAN AKHTAR’s debut collection of poems Lahore, I Am Coming (2017) is published by Punjab University Press. He works as an Assistant Professor in the Department of English, Punjab University, Lahore, Pakistan.

Homicide Detective 
​

​Just for the sake of clarity it came to my mind
about a moment when you chose to differ
with my version of an incident involving 
a man whose carcass on my way to work
I saw swayed by a muddy pool of fresh rain
a tree trunk slept on his chest like a mate
(was it Caravaggio’s Sleeping Cupid )
you were of the view that it was not a human
but a mental wedge caused by proximity
to blood-streaming faces and detritus
so by way of your objection I dwell on
a threshold and a vague exit of some sort
my invocation is ridiculous, moreover
a rapacious attachment to words makes me
a suspect who uses language as an alibi
therefore I often cannot assume real
how important it is to live a life vividly
may it be a smoky cup of tea or a towel slightly
damp after bath or a crinkled bed sheet
depictions have to be straightened, and tagged
but those eyes spluttered with slime keeps
lulling me into a dark embrace of long arms.

A Dyslexic Poet
​

​a ghostly city long spectral walks in woods
peering at a bill-board murmuring sounds
a woman chuckling over a glossy cellphone
shrugs past he stares at a dug-out pit
the jawed snout of a machine carpeting road
gradually he is included in the noise and faces
increase a consensus on muteness continues
could even  love a woman and is not asked
about her body so he shoves monologues
my soul is spending a holiday on her cleavage
and I can egress into her spirit at will and
no one either demands an apology or carries
a protest for choosing to accomplish a land
without an anthem and a banner his stanzas
die on a sequestered bench bees hover
over his unrinsed cup of tea watching sky.
 

Invasion
​

​on dark tops crows pose menacingly
an unguarded cluster of ducks hog
the road while cars honk ludicrously
waiting for flapping fowls to clear
until a child throws a stone at them
they squawk refusing to vacate
a mid-way congregation enhancing fears
of an old man seat-belted watching
on ground a white army taking control.

Birds & Us
​

​measuring their flight some of them
suspend arrogantly in air over trees
what makes them anxious for landing
on earth where we live with languages
bodies and postures watch them
preening feathers flecking bills
heaving chests flouting tails
our ways of making love--
caress hairs, inhale cleavage
an awkward kiss. Embrace.

Rain amidst Lockdown
​

​We watch big drops hanging along window panes
deferred by shape they allure occasional birds
 
mesmerized a small girl rubs her cheeks against glass
an obscure shadow creeps vigilantly like a watchman
 
her mother mopes the wooden floor listening music
outside all languages are shelved till further order
 
gradually the rain unravels  a sonorous vocabulary
the tin roof tip-toe sounds muddle with strong wind
 
unpegged washings scatter frantically on balcony
hands rush to rescue the soiled laundry of life
 
whatever remained unstained looks so odd now
inside dry bodies miss those sharp needles of water.