#everyone #review #poem
A Politician's Poem.
Blood,
A colourful and charming fluid
with a light fragrance
which can dazzle me
for my pleasure.
Blood,
A love of mine
which loves to play
hide and seek-
the bloody game.
Blood,
my vizier,
who helped me every time
when I was expected to lose.
Blood,
but whose?
any one's but mine.
-A. Q. Bilal
#aqbilal
(Edited)
A Politician's Poem.
Blood,
A colourful and charming fluid
with a light fragrance
which can dazzle me
for my pleasure.
Blood,
A love of mine
which loves to play
hide and seek-
the bloody game.
Blood,
my vizier,
who helped me every time
when I was expected to lose.
Blood,
but whose?
any one's but mine.
-A. Q. Bilal
#aqbilal
(Edited)
Responsibility
(A gunshot and a call of duty, or was it?)
*tring tring tring*
The telephone sound was the sign of life in the otherwise silent Police Control Room. Late night calls were part of the routine. Captain Kumar received the phone, "Police control room".
"Sir, th....there's a...an em...emergency in mmm...my bb..building ", the voice stuttered.
"Calm down Sir, we are here to help you", Kumar replied patiently. Nobody spoke for a minute.
"Sir???", he wished it wasn't a prank call. He heard a gulp from the other side.
"Sir, I am sensing a suspicious move from my neighbour's house, probably there's some arms and ammunition", the man was frightened.
"Can you help me write the complete address"
***
After fifteen minutes, 3 police vans arrived at the location, sirens rippling the dreams of many. Amid the sirens, a sound came from the target apartment, it was a gunshot.
" The police has circled the complete building, you have no chance but to surrender ". Kumar yelled through the microphone. After a moment of silence, the police team ascended to the building, gradually approaching the apartment. They met a man on the stairs. "Sir, I called you". He told the captain, controlling his breath. After a minute of precaution, they shot the door of the apartment and one constable entered, the others covering him.
"Sir, He shot himself ". Kumar lurched to the apartment. The corpse was supine on a cushion, holding the gun with the right hand. The bullet had crossed the head, blood was still flooding. A glance around, he witnessed a blood bathed note, it read,
"My neighbour can smell the danger but not the depression".
-A.Q.Bilal
#shortstory #review #aqbilal
(A gunshot and a call of duty, or was it?)
*tring tring tring*
The telephone sound was the sign of life in the otherwise silent Police Control Room. Late night calls were part of the routine. Captain Kumar received the phone, "Police control room".
"Sir, th....there's a...an em...emergency in mmm...my bb..building ", the voice stuttered.
"Calm down Sir, we are here to help you", Kumar replied patiently. Nobody spoke for a minute.
"Sir???", he wished it wasn't a prank call. He heard a gulp from the other side.
"Sir, I am sensing a suspicious move from my neighbour's house, probably there's some arms and ammunition", the man was frightened.
"Can you help me write the complete address"
***
After fifteen minutes, 3 police vans arrived at the location, sirens rippling the dreams of many. Amid the sirens, a sound came from the target apartment, it was a gunshot.
" The police has circled the complete building, you have no chance but to surrender ". Kumar yelled through the microphone. After a moment of silence, the police team ascended to the building, gradually approaching the apartment. They met a man on the stairs. "Sir, I called you". He told the captain, controlling his breath. After a minute of precaution, they shot the door of the apartment and one constable entered, the others covering him.
"Sir, He shot himself ". Kumar lurched to the apartment. The corpse was supine on a cushion, holding the gun with the right hand. The bullet had crossed the head, blood was still flooding. A glance around, he witnessed a blood bathed note, it read,
"My neighbour can smell the danger but not the depression".
-A.Q.Bilal
#shortstory #review #aqbilal
Responsibility
(A gunshot and a call of duty, or was it?)
*tring tring tring*
The telephone sound was the sign of life in the otherwise silent Police Control Room. Late night calls were part of the routine. Captain Kumar received the phone, "Police control room".
"Sir, th....there's a...an em...emergency in mmm...my bb..building ", the voice stuttered.
"Calm down Sir, we are here to help you", Kumar replied patiently. Nobody spoke for a minute.
"Sir???", he wished it wasn't a prank call. He heard a gulp from the other side.
"Sir, I am sensing a suspicious move from my neighbour's house, probably there's some arms and ammunition", the man was frightened.
"Can you help me write the complete address"
***
After fifteen minutes, 3 police vans arrived at the location, sirens rippling the dreams of many. Amid the sirens, a sound came from the target apartment, it was a gunshot.
" The police has circled the complete building, you have no chance but to surrender ". Kumar yelled through the microphone. After a moment of silence, the police team ascended to the building, gradually approaching the apartment. They met a man on the stairs. "Sir, I called you". He told the captain, controlling his breath. After a minute of precaution, they shot the door of the apartment and one constable entered, the others covering him.
"Sir, He shot himself ". Kumar lurched to the apartment. The corpse was supine on a cushion, holding the gun with the right hand. The bullet had crossed the head, blood was still flooding. A glance around, he witnessed a blood bathed note, it read,
"My neighbour can smell the danger but not the depression".
-A.Q.Bilal
#Shortstory #review #aqbilal
(A gunshot and a call of duty, or was it?)
*tring tring tring*
The telephone sound was the sign of life in the otherwise silent Police Control Room. Late night calls were part of the routine. Captain Kumar received the phone, "Police control room".
"Sir, th....there's a...an em...emergency in mmm...my bb..building ", the voice stuttered.
"Calm down Sir, we are here to help you", Kumar replied patiently. Nobody spoke for a minute.
"Sir???", he wished it wasn't a prank call. He heard a gulp from the other side.
"Sir, I am sensing a suspicious move from my neighbour's house, probably there's some arms and ammunition", the man was frightened.
"Can you help me write the complete address"
***
After fifteen minutes, 3 police vans arrived at the location, sirens rippling the dreams of many. Amid the sirens, a sound came from the target apartment, it was a gunshot.
" The police has circled the complete building, you have no chance but to surrender ". Kumar yelled through the microphone. After a moment of silence, the police team ascended to the building, gradually approaching the apartment. They met a man on the stairs. "Sir, I called you". He told the captain, controlling his breath. After a minute of precaution, they shot the door of the apartment and one constable entered, the others covering him.
"Sir, He shot himself ". Kumar lurched to the apartment. The corpse was supine on a cushion, holding the gun with the right hand. The bullet had crossed the head, blood was still flooding. A glance around, he witnessed a blood bathed note, it read,
"My neighbour can smell the danger but not the depression".
-A.Q.Bilal
#Shortstory #review #aqbilal
#shortstory #review #aqbilal
He wrote a piece. Read it, and after some thought, deleted it. Suddenly, he wrote it again, rephrasing some sentences and changing the tone, better than the previous one. He copied the text to a social media website and saved it as a draft. Before he published, he made some changes here and there, making it poetic and beautiful.
"You are a genius, man", somebody commented. "It seems the words are at your service, brother", the other one wrote. He sighed and kept the phone on side table. A notification popped up,
"You write too good, I'd love to talk to you".
"N-o- y-o-u-u-u wo-wo-won't", he thought aloud, stuttering as usual.
-A.Q.Bilal
He wrote a piece. Read it, and after some thought, deleted it. Suddenly, he wrote it again, rephrasing some sentences and changing the tone, better than the previous one. He copied the text to a social media website and saved it as a draft. Before he published, he made some changes here and there, making it poetic and beautiful.
"You are a genius, man", somebody commented. "It seems the words are at your service, brother", the other one wrote. He sighed and kept the phone on side table. A notification popped up,
"You write too good, I'd love to talk to you".
"N-o- y-o-u-u-u wo-wo-won't", he thought aloud, stuttering as usual.
-A.Q.Bilal
#review #aqbilal
|Writing And the Life|
Writing has a life of its own, with soft and hard breaks. You take a soft break, and the idea is suspended in readers mind: connecting it to the next one. The light breaks add beauty, and the hard one makes it clear. The clarity is the heartbeat of the writing. Pauses, after a limit, make the writing clumsy and untidy. Ideas with a lot of soft breaks are difficult to comprehend. The brain can’t bear suspension more than its limit. Both the breaks are wheels to advance a drive but the hard one makes it clear. And clarity is what you need. Take a break, a long one.
-A.Q.Bilal
|Writing And the Life|
Writing has a life of its own, with soft and hard breaks. You take a soft break, and the idea is suspended in readers mind: connecting it to the next one. The light breaks add beauty, and the hard one makes it clear. The clarity is the heartbeat of the writing. Pauses, after a limit, make the writing clumsy and untidy. Ideas with a lot of soft breaks are difficult to comprehend. The brain can’t bear suspension more than its limit. Both the breaks are wheels to advance a drive but the hard one makes it clear. And clarity is what you need. Take a break, a long one.
-A.Q.Bilal
#review #poem #aqbilal
Few years back I wrote this poem.
|Terror|
Definition of terror is a bit confusing!
See who is being accused and who is accusing!
Killings by 'The Power' is war on terror
Defence by the victim is almost terror.
Oh A White did a shootout?
He is a psycho or a sadist!
Oh! The black has a gun
Is he a terrorist?
Governing its people can be a sin.
If you are ignoring what 'The Power' is saying.
You may be a good king but you will be dethroned and accused.
For looting the people, allowing 'them' to loot.
Terror can be defined with the color .
The saffron is innocent but the green is with the terror.
Grabbing the lands is establishment of peace.
Defending their land can invite decease.
Definition of terror can be manipulated.
Homicide by 'The power' is always accepted.
A.Q.Bilal
Few years back I wrote this poem.
|Terror|
Definition of terror is a bit confusing!
See who is being accused and who is accusing!
Killings by 'The Power' is war on terror
Defence by the victim is almost terror.
Oh A White did a shootout?
He is a psycho or a sadist!
Oh! The black has a gun
Is he a terrorist?
Governing its people can be a sin.
If you are ignoring what 'The Power' is saying.
You may be a good king but you will be dethroned and accused.
For looting the people, allowing 'them' to loot.
Terror can be defined with the color .
The saffron is innocent but the green is with the terror.
Grabbing the lands is establishment of peace.
Defending their land can invite decease.
Definition of terror can be manipulated.
Homicide by 'The power' is always accepted.
A.Q.Bilal
#review #shortstory #aqbilal
I'll Miss you '17.
(Written on 31st December 2017)
I was sitting on the couch in my drawing-room. Scrolling down the newsfeed I got to know the nearby new year celebrations. The day of happiness and enjoyment, I thought. I logged out and glanced through the newspapers. Nothing was making me comfortable, something was disturbing me. I stood up and went to the bedroom, She was there packing her stuff.
I saw tears on her face, "You are crying, aren't you?". I said.
She silently cleaned the makeup mirror and kept it in the purse. I walked to her, touching her hair I said, "I'll miss you".
"No, you won't", she averted her eyes. I kept my palm on her cheek.
"I swear I'll miss you", I insisted resisting my tears to fall. She sobbed.
"I am sorry for what I did to you", she said keeping her eyes down. "It was not your fault", I wiped off her tears, "you were on duty.
"But why me", she was about to cry.
"Only God knows", I tried to be calm, "you gave me some of the beautiful memories". She smiled. We embraced.
My heart was crying but the eyes were not allowed to. "They are celebrating for the newcomer" she kept her head on my chest" what about you".
"They are clamouring for the future, I am living the precious present", I whispered in her ears "I am living your last moments". That was the last time I touched 2017.
-A.Q.Bilal
I'll Miss you '17.
(Written on 31st December 2017)
I was sitting on the couch in my drawing-room. Scrolling down the newsfeed I got to know the nearby new year celebrations. The day of happiness and enjoyment, I thought. I logged out and glanced through the newspapers. Nothing was making me comfortable, something was disturbing me. I stood up and went to the bedroom, She was there packing her stuff.
I saw tears on her face, "You are crying, aren't you?". I said.
She silently cleaned the makeup mirror and kept it in the purse. I walked to her, touching her hair I said, "I'll miss you".
"No, you won't", she averted her eyes. I kept my palm on her cheek.
"I swear I'll miss you", I insisted resisting my tears to fall. She sobbed.
"I am sorry for what I did to you", she said keeping her eyes down. "It was not your fault", I wiped off her tears, "you were on duty.
"But why me", she was about to cry.
"Only God knows", I tried to be calm, "you gave me some of the beautiful memories". She smiled. We embraced.
My heart was crying but the eyes were not allowed to. "They are celebrating for the newcomer" she kept her head on my chest" what about you".
"They are clamouring for the future, I am living the precious present", I whispered in her ears "I am living your last moments". That was the last time I touched 2017.
-A.Q.Bilal
#review
#shortstory #aqbilal
|The Wait|
Claire, was a beautiful rabbit, working for a Circus. No, not working, she was enslaved by a Circus house. She, with her two little kits Tom and Tim, was an element of entertainment for the audience. In a Circus season, she was expected to do her act two times a day, only to be a small amount of food thrown at her. Insufficient for the kits, let alone for her. Nevertheless, she continued doing her part, without
complaining or cursing, or what the Circus owner thought.
One day, one of the kits was feeling dizzy because of the deficiency of energy. Nevertheless, they were dragged to the stage with other animals. Claire tried to tell the Ringmaster about her son's plight. But, was lashed with a whip. The whip, designed for big animals, made a scratch on her back. She was dropped from the act, as an ugly animal would displease the audience. With tears, she was helpless. The scratch was aching and the heart was filled with the fear for her son.
The kits were given the place of their mother, letting it more difficult for the sick kit, Tom. While running on the rope for an act, Tom slipped and took her last breath. His death was hidden conveniently from the audience, Claire was also unaware. After the show, when animals were dropped at their cage, Claire received the dead body of her son. Tim narrated the complete story. Claire, after sobbing, took a glance out of the cage, the ringmaster and the owner were talking.
"I think today was not a good day for us, rabbits were out of their minds, ringmaster said.
"I think, the loyalty of the kid was more than her mother", said the owner with a wink. An obsequious laugh was heard.
Few months passed, the survived mother and son duo were doing their part, with heavy hearts. Not a day passed without a curse by Claire. As time passed, she stopped cursing as it was painful to recall the incident. The season passed.
Next year, before the Circus season, a calamity took the country on her trap. The financial emergency was announced, and the owner went insane. Without any hope, he travelled through cities with his Circus, with a hope of getting a place to put his shows. But, no landlord was ready to lease the land, no broker was ready to work with him. The day came, and he was forced to stand in the line for food, distributed by the government. A human right organisation took all the animals with them. Next day, a piece of news spread like a wildfire. The owner killed himself out of despair. The body was taken to hospital. When Clair was informed by her fellow animals, a wide smile appeared on her face. The wait was worth it.
-A.Q.Bilal
#shortstory #aqbilal
|The Wait|
Claire, was a beautiful rabbit, working for a Circus. No, not working, she was enslaved by a Circus house. She, with her two little kits Tom and Tim, was an element of entertainment for the audience. In a Circus season, she was expected to do her act two times a day, only to be a small amount of food thrown at her. Insufficient for the kits, let alone for her. Nevertheless, she continued doing her part, without
complaining or cursing, or what the Circus owner thought.
One day, one of the kits was feeling dizzy because of the deficiency of energy. Nevertheless, they were dragged to the stage with other animals. Claire tried to tell the Ringmaster about her son's plight. But, was lashed with a whip. The whip, designed for big animals, made a scratch on her back. She was dropped from the act, as an ugly animal would displease the audience. With tears, she was helpless. The scratch was aching and the heart was filled with the fear for her son.
The kits were given the place of their mother, letting it more difficult for the sick kit, Tom. While running on the rope for an act, Tom slipped and took her last breath. His death was hidden conveniently from the audience, Claire was also unaware. After the show, when animals were dropped at their cage, Claire received the dead body of her son. Tim narrated the complete story. Claire, after sobbing, took a glance out of the cage, the ringmaster and the owner were talking.
"I think today was not a good day for us, rabbits were out of their minds, ringmaster said.
"I think, the loyalty of the kid was more than her mother", said the owner with a wink. An obsequious laugh was heard.
Few months passed, the survived mother and son duo were doing their part, with heavy hearts. Not a day passed without a curse by Claire. As time passed, she stopped cursing as it was painful to recall the incident. The season passed.
Next year, before the Circus season, a calamity took the country on her trap. The financial emergency was announced, and the owner went insane. Without any hope, he travelled through cities with his Circus, with a hope of getting a place to put his shows. But, no landlord was ready to lease the land, no broker was ready to work with him. The day came, and he was forced to stand in the line for food, distributed by the government. A human right organisation took all the animals with them. Next day, a piece of news spread like a wildfire. The owner killed himself out of despair. The body was taken to hospital. When Clair was informed by her fellow animals, a wide smile appeared on her face. The wait was worth it.
-A.Q.Bilal