319 Pages, Paperback

ISBN: 969-516-084-0

Price: Rs.395

Price: $ 12.00



Collected Poems


Shahryar Rashed


       is my enemy
       that fat clawing at my heart
       time away from you
       is non-time
       limp and lifeless hours
       opaque minutes wilting seconds
       on liquid clocks....

Shahryar Rashed was born in Gujranwala in January 1948. Son of the 'father' of modern Urdu poetry, Noon Meem Rashed, Shahryar attended Aitchison College, Lahore; Karachi Grammar School; and the United Nations International School in New York. After attending Drew University, Shahryar decided to return to Pakistan and did his masters in English from Punjab University. After sitting for the CSS examination, he joined the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in 1971. His diplomatic postings took him to Europe, West Africa, Tokyo and Bombay. At the time of his death in 1998, he was based in Tashkent as Pakistan's Ambassador to Uzbekistan.
    Shahryar was an avid reader and was particularly interested in drama and poetry. He wrote a number of English radio and stage plays including "The Immaculate Puptent" which was broadcast by the BBC radio for its English Service. Shahryar published two collections of his verse: Hybrid (1991) and liquid clocks (1997), the latter being awarded the Patras Bokhari Award for English Writing. A martial arts black-belt holder in the self-defense discipline of jiujitsu, Shahryar was also a horseman, and a lover of classical music.
    Shahryar is survived by his wife, Iffat, and two daughters, Sambreen and Fariha.


the long gaze

eyes of the galaxy
shimmering through ozone layers

occult particles
floating curving spiraling
to the zenith of patience.

finite thoughts
trying to grasp infinity
in the blade of grass
pointed upwards past the last star
        men in Sunday best
        two-tone shoes
        red bandannas
        knotted nicely
        across graying temples

        are spread-eagled
        on grasslands green
        yellowing watching
        the receding depths.
        do they remember
        the big bang of whispers
        the black hole of conscience
        the gravity of indecision?

the ecstatic long-gaze
in search of singularities
will surely dim our eyes
to the horror on earth.

and yet-
these days of slaughter
will open our eyes
and set us free to fly.



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