Saturday, December 1, 2018




Tired of life's literature of
glorious tragedies of an
Sapien's  shallow and stagnant pride
that a gladiator ever earns

The  conch is blown
Calling exile winds back  home
Stirring the silver of the sand
When whirls in a tidal crescendo

This is the renaissance
A true art of life
Where fittest is the one who
Is pierced
With as many arrows as the number of beats  a heart can afford

To meet the other half
Of "You"
The remaining part of the
Where you are burst opening
from your skin
And mounting upon heap
Of your bones
So that you see ,
You are not what You "Are"
But what you were Conceived while
In a cosmic womb

Holding a candle along the length
Of your arms that is
Burning at both ends and
You stand on a thin red line where
Walks the choir of life

The ones with four feet
Those with wings
The swimmers , the crawlers
The hunters , the weavers
The ones with venom
Others with nectar

Starry dandelions carrying
messages from
inhabitants of other earths , other skies

Through an eyelet in the eye of
the reality
I see elephants flying in the
Liquid of the sky
And dolphins climbing tree that hang from sky

Only love will read you the remaining
Chapters of the story
Engraved upon skin of your scars
Love will turn your face
Awestruck towards the other half
Of You that is
Flowing in the salt of some sweet eyes

Lovers are never friends
They are either as close as a
Beast is to your heart
as remote as gods are from your flesh


Who are you?
A traveller lost in between
journey and destination
Who are you?
A thirsty one drowned in a mirage
In the sea of sand

Who are you?
The pain of the fragrance
Disowned by the rose
Now at the mercy of a wind
The wings of a colour
Peeled off a butterfly in captivity...

Who are you?
The first drop of the rain
I am the last drop of the ocean
Walking upon an unclaimed piece of Earth uncontrolled
By any law, any regime, any religion

Who are you?
A beholder
beholden to the nakedness of an eye
I am the love, lover, the beloved
The fire that light the sun, the dew
where a lonely moon floats
In the river of night...

Who are you?
I am you
Who are you?

I am the tear fallen from the eye
Shed at the irony of a Sin that was not Original.


Amidst crackling bones of solitude
in the lone thundering silence of the universe
I am standing upon a
grain of earth
sole witness to the weightless
worth of the infinite drama of existence
in the wandering and desultory
colors of light years that
Went unlived by life
Uncelebrated with no history
at all

There ought be love
So sprouts a sudden garden
from the virgin of a land
So flies a light in the
heart of the fragrance

I am dying to burn out in the flame of a moth......

To reach the heat of your lips there ought be an intimacy
a bosom of ecstasy
whither salt on skin is licked by the sweet sweating of a saffron plougher....

With eyes closed a thousand
eyelets are awakened
blossomed to have a
glimpse of what is unknown
yet very much our own....

There ought be a
moment in the
whole of a lifetime
when so overwhelmed with the knowledge that I am breathing
the same air you have exhaled
while looking into the setting sun
perhaps thinking about me.....

Oh would that
a single moment in a whole lifetime when I am drowning in my own gulp of water
knowing that you sat by the river
and wept saffron tears


SANTIAGO ALI: Santiago a political economy graduate from Pakistan has chosen the poetry as one of his tools to make this world a more beautiful in his own right. Calling himself an Exile he writes about love, anthropological ecology and The War.. Ancient myths and Renaissance literature and art being his permanent sources of inspiration.


  1. ah,very different from others, the style,the imagery,and the applications are great.enjoyed, wish you more success.

  2. Your poetry is an elegant amalgam of gems gleaned from myriad subjects with which you are enthralled.. engaged and quite knowledgeable....your references are drawn from a vast array found in deftly explore the fall of mankind from sacred scripture ...redemption found in acts of kindness... and the extreme... in the arms of the beloved are a self described exile which you use to your advantage ....embracing all..rejecting little especially those subjects which cause discomfort....

    Your verse pushes the reader from a comfort zone into a higher realm of questioning and reasoning...those previously held values one finds entrenched until you come along and shatter them...organizing principles shaken to the core....if that is at least a portion of your purpose it is subject matter is off the are intrepid ...

    Bravo Santiago Ali....