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Christmas Eve - Poem by Anne Sexton

Oh sharp diamond, my mother!
I could not count the cost
of all your faces, your moods-
that present that I lost.
Sweet girl, my deathbed,
my jewel-fingered lady,
your portrait flickered all night
by the bulbs of the tree.

Your face as calm as the moon
over a mannered sea,
presided at the family reunion,
the twelve grandchildren
you used to wear on your wrist,
a three-months-old baby,
a fat check you never wrote,
the red-haired toddler who danced the twist,
your aging daughters, each one a wife,
each one talking to the family cook,
each one avoiding your portrait,
each one aping your life.

Later, after the party,
after the house went to bed,
I sat up drinking the Christmas brandy,
watching your picture,
letting the tree move in and out of focus.
The bulbs vibrated.
They were a halo over your forehead.
Then they were a beehive,
blue, yellow, green, red;
each with its own juice, each hot and alive
stinging your face. But you did not move.
I continued to watch, forcing myself,
waiting, inexhaustible, thirty-five.

I wanted your eyes, like the shadows
of two small birds, to change.
But they did not age.
The smile that gathered me in, all wit,
all charm, was invincible.
Hour after hour I looked at your face
but I could not pull the roots out of it.
Then I watched how the sun hit your red sweater, your withered neck,
your badly painted flesh-pink skin.
You who led me by the nose, I saw you as you were.
Then I thought of your body
as one thinks of murder-

Then I said Mary-
Mary, Mary, forgive me
and then I touched a present for the child,
the last I bred before your death;
and then I touched my breast
and then I touched the floor
and then my breast again as if,
somehow, it were one of yours.
Anne Sexton

Latest Urdu Poetry

I

I had forgotten how the frogs must sound
After a year of silence, else I think
I should not s

1 Move him into the sun--
2 Gently its touch awoke him once,
3 At home, whispering of fields unsow

I'm making a pizza the size of the sun,
a pizza that's sure to weigh more than a ton,
a pizza too

A man and a woman lie on a white bed.
It is morning. I think
Soon they will waken.
On the bedside

Part One


The power of charity sows deep in my heart, and I reap and gather the wheat in bundles

Jab Raat Ki Nagin Dasti Hai
Nus Nus Mein Zehar Utarta Hai

Jab Chand Ki Kirnein Tezi Se
Uss Dil

mohabbaton ne baDi her-pher kar di hai
wafa ghurur ke qadmon mein Dher kar di hai
kaTi hai raat

Musalssal bekali dil ko rahi hai,
Magar jeenay ki surat to rahi hai,
Main kyun phirta hoon tanha m

ZakhaM Ko BharnE Mein KucH DaiR To Lagti Hai,,,

jis ZakhaM Mein ShamiL Ho ApnO Ki EnayaT..!

Toti Hai Meri Neend Magr Tum Ko Is Se Kya
Bujte Rahe Hwaon Se Dar Mgar Tum Ko Is Se Kya
Tum Moj Mo

Ager Tum Dekho Aaina,
To Apne Aap Se Nazrain Chura Lena,
Ke Aksar Bewafa Logon Ko,
Jab Wo Aain

DiL MEra Hi NazuK Sa THa SOo TooT GaYa,,,

TorNE VaLE TuJH PEr Koii ILZam NaHii....!!

Faseel e jism gira de makaan e jaaN se nikal

Ye intshaar zada shahr hai..yahaaN se nikal

Teri

‎--Is Bheegi Shaam K Saye Main-
Chup'ky Se Agr Tum Aa Jao
---------------------------
---------

Aaj Ki Raat Bhi Mumkin Hai Na Soo Sakoon 'Mohsin',
Yaad Phirr Aai Hai Neendoon Ko Uraane Waali...!

Anna who was mad,
I have a knife in my armpit.
When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages.
Am I s

kitne nadaan thy toufan ko kinara samjha
kitne bejan saharon ko sahara samjha,

kitnay anjaan thy

Tis glorious morning everywhere
Save where the alleys lie—
I see the fleecy steam jets bid
“G

Bas Udaas Na Raha Kar Bas Itni Guzarish Hai, ,
Ye Rasm-e-Dunya Hai Yahan Dukh Dard Na Hon To Zindag

Is Shehr Kharabi Mein Ghamein Ishq K Mare
Zinda Hein Yehi Bat Bari Baat Hai Piyare

Ye Hansta How

Urdu Poetry

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