Category Archives: poem

body shaming, health, insecurities, pain, poem

My mirror made me realise.

Chubby cheeks, sweaty thighs
Flabby arms plus short height.

Being fat and bulky, I
Was never their favourite child.

Bitter taunts and weight loss tips
Used to be my feed at dine.

It’s not the SELF LOVE, but
The SELF HATE , I learnt at nine.

Crying as a bullied teen
I heard a voice one night –

“your body is only yours
Your scars are sunshine.
No matter what they say
It’s their unpaid job to criticise.”

It’s not my mother. But
My mirror made me realise –

YOUR BODY IS ONLY YOURS
WHETHER YOU ARE NINE OR NINETY NINE.

                                                               – Noor

Standard
poem

Daffodils

And in that moment
I was happy
Like daffodils
In the spring.
Dancing on the melodies
With those curves,
I swing.
Like the world is mine
I am the moon, and
The Sunshine.
And the universe needs,
All of me
To survive.
The pain was fainted
The smile has arrived.
The rain said
“I am not helping you crying”.
The soil is nourished
Asking me to “grow for a while.”
My heart found its rhythms
And walked  a mile.
I wasn’t following the footsteps
But  was my own guide.
I lived in the present.
Maybe till winter arrive.
I may shed one day
But I won’t cry.
Because in that moment,
I didn’t gave up on life.
I was life.

– Noor

Standard
poem

Moments.

All what remain is moment.
To be captured in brain
To remember in pain.
To find color in grey
To perceive in rain.

To work insane
With pressure in veins.
Not feeling alone
In the world of fakes.

To sit in silence
To dance in daze.
To sing a little.
Remembering that, one face.

Things has to end
Law of nature applies.
The leaves of spring
One day, has to die.

Live the moment
When he said “you are mine”.
To live for the day
When he would say “goodbye”.

Moments you live
Are the moments you save.
For the time,  you would realise
You have lost your dearest days.
                                          – Noor

Standard

And
I believe
In love
She is an old soul
A magnificent heart.
The magical poetry
And the classic art.
Cascade of emotions
Deeply in veins.
Fervour is too pure for her
And, not a chasing game.

No men deserves her
When she keep dancing on her beats.
Black background apart
Covered herself in white sheaths.
With music, she leans
With lyrics, she blends.
She prefers to be antique
In the world full of trends.
The nature healed her
Bloomed her out of pain.
Sprinkled love around her
Like the droplets of rain.
She is cold but warmth
Like the spring in march.
Too wise in her poetry
Everlasting in young hearts.

Where the world is turning dark
And there is no hope left.
The youth has lost its charm
It’s all meddle and mess.
Yes, I strongly believe
Then, there is still she
Pavementing her own path
Fighting the demons,
Embracing the scars.


In the era of neoteric
She is senile, sensual and smart.
An old medievel soul
A magnificent heart.
The magical poetry
And the classic art….

– Noor

poem, Uncategorized

Yes, she exists.

In the era of neoteric, she is always there. Who does not belong to the world but to herself and she is so strong that no one deserves her..

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