Mir Ishfaq Ahmad poetry

  She meets me on Jhelum’s banks, Where the river carries silent grief, And tells me the nightmare of a Saint Who saw red waters flooding The streets of Kashmir. Washing away peace from every corner, From Kulgam to Kupwara, From Anantnag to Bijbehara to Srinagar. And of the iron rain falling from the sky, Tearing through eyes and faces, Blinding them from asthans and mazars. And of explosions splitting the sky, Deafening ears, drowning out prayers. And a silence replacing the Sofi songs. She says no one will hear the wails, No one will see the cracks. Only the deaf, the blind, and the dead will remain, Their silence the only voice in this lost Paradise. Jhelum flows on, unburdened by our grief.

  When summer holidays came our way, We kids had fun the whole long day. Early morning we ran to the river wide, We played and laughed by the water’s side.   No worry for food, no worry at all, Evening came, we heard no call. From sunken boats we found old things, Iron pieces felt like hidden kings.   Barefoot we ran on warm soft sand, We made small castles with our hand. We caught tiny fish, we climbed old trees, We felt so free in the river’s breeze.   We slid on soil by the riverside, Laughing loud with every slide. Mud on clothes, mud on face, Still we played and found our grace.   Sometimes we fought, then laughed again, Friends like brothers, sunshine and rain. Mothers called but we stayed more, Wet clothes, dirty feet — fun to the core.   Today that river is dry and still, That happy childhood I remember still. Kids today stay inside all day, On phones and games they waste away.   I wish those days could come again, The river flows, we lose our ...

 Dear Reader, Welcome to my poetry blog. My name is Mir Ishfaq Ahmad, and I believe every poem carries a heartbeat — sometimes mine, sometimes yours. Here you will find verses that speak of childhood memories, a mother’s silent strength, the struggle of the poor, the beauty of Kashmir, and the hope that keeps us alive. I started this blog so that my poems can reach people far beyond my village, my classroom, or my own thoughts. You are free to read, reflect, comment, and share. May you find lines here that comfort you, make you pause, or remind you that you are not alone. Thank you for visiting. Let’s walk this path of words together. With warmth, Mir Ishfaq Ahmad

  When I was lost in the joys of childhood, I never knew what the future would bring. But as I crossed the threshold of boyhood, Memories of those days began to sting. I remember the times, so pure and bright, Rolling a tire with a stick in delight. No worries, no fears, no burdens to bear, Just laughter and joy filling the air. Oh, how sweet were those simple days, When time would pass in endless plays. In winter’s chill, our noses froze, Yet we never cared, as the cold wind rose. They asked, “What will you be when you grow up ?” But now I know what I miss the most— Not riches, not fame, not worldly desires, Just to be a child and play with my tires. Oh, childhood days, so distant and true, If only I could return to you.

 Hello, I am Mir Ishfaq Ahmad, a poet from Kashmir. I write about struggles, life, and memories. Here I share my poems with the world. I hope you find a piece of your story in mine.