Kaneez Zahera
Poet from Madhya Pradesh, India
Seventeen dews, crimson dusks and frosts.
Their story
I was always fond of reading poetries, shayaris and all but it was in my 10th standard when I actually started writing, I've always had the hunger to write. It was my teacher who indirectly inspired me to write. She never knew she was teaching me how to listen to language. She noticed when a sentence carried weight and I wanted her quiet nod of approval.
She never told me to become a poet. She never knew she was sharpening my hunger. She taught me that language could be earned. That it could be shaped. And I write because these twenty-six alphabets tremble in my hands, waiting to spill the ache I once felt. I write because I hunger for words I have never read. And because in writing, I taste what silence cannot offer.
I write to let anyone who reads these lines feel exactly what once consumed me..!!
Works by Kaneez Zahera
- Home; Memory— His were both.
- Seasons? Gravé!
- Asellan
- Roses Incomplete!
- Sonnet Incomplete!
- Two blues pretending not to know eachother.
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