I am a baby, I am a child, I am the innocent wonder in my eyes I am a glimpse, I am a sign, of someone I can be, someone I might I am not...

In the business world, there is no gray. Either you are black, or you are white-washed.

Cliché: “The MBA changed my life.”What it really means: “A fantastic career, a great social life and a healthy bank balance…three of the things I had before I started the program.

Maybe life is all about twirling under one of those midnight skies, cutting a swathe through the breeze and gently closing your eyes.

may this poetrybe the homeyou will someday come back to.

You put cow dung on my face?’ ‘Every day religiously until you were three. Why else do you think your skin is so clear?

when whisperedwhat an exquisitesong, it makes-your name.

Poems are invisible flowers on my skin.

I live there…Far above the song-filled clouds,where the dewdrops touch my skin so bareI live there.

it was the kind of moonthat I would want to send back to my ancestorsand gift to my descendantsso they know that I too,have been bruised…by beauty.

Poems can getsleepless tooand becomethe loneliest thingin the universe.

i want to stay curled and cosiedand chocolated….foreverin my mother’s arms.

i writebecauseit is the only wayi can reach you.

Lund Lund e Pakistan! Maa Chudaega Pakistan! Chuchhi Chodu Pakistan! Kargil Me Mushi ki begam chodo subah shaam

when i speak to youi speak as thoughi am offering a rosein your hand.

all the wordsall the poems know my warm, soft spots.

give mea pillow of strongever-dependable shouldersthat i can bury my head in.

violent storms. and beautiful smiles. both have electricity. both are equally destructive in nature.

a silent night. – the most eloquent poem i have ever read.

i am permanentlytannedin the summer of poetry.

I want to have a romance so grand,it would have made Shakespeare fumble for words.

sometimes i wake upin the middleof the nightand findpoetry splatteredall over my bed.

all my lifei have looked for poemsto elope with.

I breathe in…the fragranceof love, and moist sandthe onehis roses lefton both my handsI just keep on breathingevery momentas much as I canpreserving it, in my bodyfor the dayit can’t.

May youalways haveopenbreezy spacesin your mind.

for those memories are nowjust like these little kittensI hold in my handsthose can be kissedand treasuredbut not held too tightly.

leave me some musicthat’s chocolate for the heart.

love canembellish its beginningsing its blossomingand engrave its eternitiesbut can never explain its loss.

some poems frothand foam and rise…out of my morning cup ofmist-sweetened coffee.

some words bring warmthjust bybeing next to each other.

I breathe in…the silenceof my own heartaching with tendernesswith memories..Of home.

Once in a while i am struckall over again… by just how blue the sky appears .. on wind-played autumn mornings, blue enoughto bruise a heart.

because some thingssometimesaren’t ours to hold,but just beautiful to listen to.

Breezy daysdeserve the unionof two old friends.

and the afterglow…of your gaze…is the onlysweater that I need.

i have laughedmore than daffodilsand cried more than June.

whatever you dobe gentle with yourself.you don’t just livein this worldor your homeor your skin.you also livein someone’s eyes.

you areso deliciousto my poetic side.

One clear moment, one of trance One missed step, one perfect dance One missed shot, one and only chance Life is all…but one fleeting glance.

the saddest thing is to bea minute to someone,when you’ve made them your eternity.

I live there…where the birds are infiniteeverywherewhere they fleeit’s a place your eyes can wanderbut never seeWhere everyone accepts me,Without any pretenseIt’s a place your mind can picturebut never really comprehend.

savorwith methe lushnessof a lingering sleep…and last night’sdream.

You are that one breath. that puts all the remaining breaths. back into my body.

your handtouching mine.this is howgalaxiescollide.

everything that is scatteredcomes together in wordseverything that is lostcomes back in poetry.

i am infinitely yearningbrimmingand overflowingin wordsi discoverit’s another wayfor meto be in tears.

This winter, there will be no voices, no glimpses, no arms.only the fabric of poetry, to keep me warm.

kisses explode when… someone believes in me when my heart cries out a song of thanks to yours.

poetrymelts my bones.enters my blood.and changesits composition.

Poetry keeps mein a highly drunken stateof divinity.