Lit Fest Thumb Roll


White wings flap and shelter many a breeze

Above the chairs blinking at the sun

And thoughts bestir their heavy forms

In the city by the crags of roughened shore

While heads nod and silent drums roll

In carpeted corridors; awe rears its shapely head.

If a book is measure of a writer’s skill

Let the written word a drum beat be,

That for each drum beat along the walk of fame

Awe may accompany, the life that seems a mile above;

The charlatan of time and world

In glorious pen to sword structure seek

And bide clockwork like the chance

That robes kings of book-dom from dusty nooks

As picked out from the riotous rabble

They stand timorous till that purveyor of corridors

Snare drums each page, each word, each phrase

Drum,drum, drum.

Impressions from the Karachi Literature Festival 2012

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