In my springtime,
when moonlit was falling from her(moon) height
mother was lip syncing the lullaby
and I turned to sleep
It grew a sweet dream of summer
that was created too many stir of dreams
Then I can remember,
when every year late autumn had come,
I kept my kite on the blue sky
that was floating with drifted clouds
and I was awaking again with a big shout
sometimes I had seen supernatural shadows on the evening sky
If I address my adult young
When the mystic purple camellia were blooming
the grasshoppers were rounding
and the beautiful shrubs of white flowers were dancing
with the gentle breeze,
I was wandering in the ground
then the bees were humming around
when I painted her wild beauty
she had seemed me as a sweetie
I know you say me a dreamer
but you don't know,
my grandfather was a farmer
and my father was a sailor
who was sailing away his life into the blue ocean
After then day by day I grew older
where I try to lock all those things in a folder
and I had fallen in too many doubts
it was again the too dark cloud’s shout
who are those dark clouds?
how did it melt and bring the tears!
how the petals of roses grew wither!
Then I had drafted,
and drifted all of my dreams
then a train had come to my known station
and carried me again from the dark to light
Again I have made a dream
And I sing a song of spring
After then I take a sad song
and try to makes it joy
That certainly makes me rolling,
And moving towards the sweet summer
but again the monsoon has blown
towards the dry leaves of murmur
and slowly and slowly,
it has swiped me toward the sound of banner
that was passing through my life
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Here I try myself to write about me, a poetry for his challenge
Loneliness consumes me though in the kind arms of another
Such a great heart as his suffers at my dead touch.
But every touch brings up in me a shudder
And the image of your face hits away my crutch.
I want to return his light that waits reaching out to me
But only answer with a silent glow of memory.
Souvenirs of you, so oblivious and far at bay
Both caring and not, dancing your life away.
His arms grab mine, trying to shake me awake.
His blue eyes midnight, yours were summer skies
I can’t break away from thoughts of mistakes
And can only stare back, and just apologise.
The warmth of your skin, arms rocking me in the night
Block my sight as if engraved onto my eyes
Dancing with you as in a desperate fight
Begging his forgiveness, as life is my disguise.
she is trapped in her brilliance
no mirrors to reflect upon
surrounded by voices muted
by her own whispered echoes
of shadows that continually
shade the shine she fails
to feel upon her mind
never seeing the beauty within
the pieces of her heart
that lie forever tethered
and trapped in her own brilliance
During one of my recent internet travels,
I came across a picture of a “minor”,
posing with tinted lips
and exposed breasts.
What got my eyes
pinned were the thousand number of likes
by virtually hooting “boys”
and comments by other group of “gentlemen”
telling her how to dress.
HUMILITY: I have been asked to repeat the word
too many times to recall what it means:
the man on the subway cat-called
and accused me of showing too much skin
but instead of fighting back, I smiled
because girls ought to be nice.
I have been taught to survive
by using my body as a swiss army knife,
and I convince myself that
there is protection in being polite.
H-U-M-I-I am forgetting the rest.
The smoke curled up from between his fingers
and he blew out toxic, blurring my vision.
I gasped and wheezed
but I held my sneeze,
I cannot slap him across his face. HUMILITY.
So, I just pretended to cough, hoping he’ll feel ashamed.
I have been trained to flutter my eyelash,
clench my jaw at a whiplash
and business school boys,
who manifest success by refusing to take “NO” for an answer.
And for every time his prying eyes
scan down by body,
as if rating my inexperienced assets on a scale of one to five,
and every time his touch trails a chill down my spine,
Male kindness is so alien to us; we confuse it with seduction every time.
HUMILITY: the quality of having a low view of one’s importance
but, I fail to understand
when did it become synonymous to diffidence;
there is a subtle difference between
papercuts and shattered integrity,
holding hands and chaining souls,
building houses and creating homes,
humiliation rotting down to bones and humility.
HUMILITY, have you spelled it too many times to know what it looks like?
i've fallen in love with boys at the bus stop listening to rock music
and a girl in my ballet class with her hair piled up in a purple bun
i've fallen in love with strangers and friends and they were all beautiful
you are not beautiful
you are not beautiful like sunsets and supermodels and punk rock boys and pirouetting girls
you are beautiful like math
and the safety of knowing that one + one with always equal two
so god help me
because i had never been good at math until i met you
Nowadays we ..speak freely...feelweakly.
Nowadays we.. think freely... thank... fewly
Nowadays we screw nitley...love litely...
Nowadays we...Think fewly...talk..cool-ly
These days we wise...litely...blaze...brightly...high
TheseDays we...spend freely
Today we...hide deeply...no sleeply.