• Mad Gleam Press

On Growth

Updated: Jul 27, 2020

Grown Up (16inx11in etching on handmade paper, 2016)


I was a lark of silence prior to your entry in my life

I used to entice silence out of the illegible scribbles

to set them free.

Coiling out your footprints from the barren

lands and soothing your feet by little precipitations

of kindness—used to strengthen me.

Caressing you with a speckle of stardust to make you

realize how important your survival is for me, and feeding

your heart with an oasis of desertion, with a hope of slaking

your enlightenment with thirst.

Now I’m enjoying the perks of transient state,

but still restless emotions horrify me.

They blend ice and fire in such a way that both strive

to exchange their raiment.

Both delude the upcoming generations of human beings.

Now, they laugh wickedly when man confuses their union

Salt and Lake

As soon as glistening drops fell

near the surface of the ground,

vapours clenched their fists,

knowing no matter what they do,

moisture would remain too adamant

to understand

coolness, too, is time-sensitive

I believe them

when they say grief also has a beginning!

Parwana Ya Dewana?

(Author's note: Parwana is an Urdu word for "Moth" while Deewana refers to a mad/passionate lover in the same language.)

I saw a moth

wandering around the window-pane,

in search of her confidante:

a stunning orange blob of light

with a fair skin tone and a slender body -

her ravenous teardrop,

as she fondly called him.

Nearby Charrington Rd,

a 52-ft tall, five-storey building was ablaze;

The inferno had swept through the entire space,

and there was no way to stop the music of death;

she instantly knew it was her dear rage.

Folding her wings up over her back,

she arrived at the destination

saving mortals at each step.

while her beloved was busy

flaunting his strength

like an old, white-bearded wizard

who likes to raise his hands in the air

to cast evil spells.

As came closer to her lover to prevent this outrage,

she received an elusive kiss

that soothed the cracks of her lips

but burnt her tiny self

As she waved goodbye,

I called the fire brigade.


Fizza Abbas is a Freelance Content Writer based in Karachi, Pakistan. She is fond of poetry and music. Her works have been published on quite a few platforms including Poetry Village and Poetry Pacific.

Claire DG is a visual poet, artist and writer, a designer, a French teacher, and the Artistic Director of Mad Gleam Press.

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