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 Mar 2019 POSSIBLE
eleanor prince
ever standing
body lithe, strong
trained to strike

too dashing for peeling paint
old verandas
slow-paced hamlet

waiting in country town
place to whizz past
road to tourist hub

how does his tale read
did he pay
for assault

struck the frame
holder of *****
spawning breath

cold fury
for scenes of his mother
thrown down

stain his every stance
grabbing mail swiftly
ahead of arrival

panther muscles
no more the crouching lad
shuddering

her screams
bounce off walls
as mother's body slumps

broken bottle scars
left to clean up the mess
as he leaves for school
forage into
fictional possibility -
penned
with deep respect
for David
of village
post office
If only we could fly like  
those that tweet or hoot
without aid of jet or  
parachute

For I sure don't like  
wings that boom and roar
just so they can take off  
and soar

Ah, to fly without petrol, diesel  
or fuel
Oh, to halt that taloned midair  
duel *

Birds they don't pollute  
the air
nor need they any airline  
fare

So if only I too could rise  
and glide
and let the wind be my  
sole guide

I'd be happy to fly all the  
way to 'em' faraway stars
if I was assured I'd risk  
no charring scars.

Flying without aviation  
formalities
I could be sightseeing  
many more cities

Ah I so wish to fly just  
like a jay or jackdaw
Then I'd fly across all and  
every border
For I'd know nor follow
no man-made law!

If only we needed no darned immigration pass or visa
We could have visited so many more touristy places
Say even the spectacular and popular pyramids of Giza
And we could have known different cultures and races
Ah, a stylish photo next to the leaning tower of Pisa
And return with exotica like a framed pic of the Mona Lisa
*the. Starred line refers to the amazing midair talined fight btw  eagles I watched on the telly.

My  profile pic is from the Internet reflecting this newest poem.
 Mar 2019 POSSIBLE
Shofi Ahmed
When time folding life goes by,
For a while did I ask for.

When the day folding sight goes by,
And its other face being unveiled
Fluxless moon glaring into the edge of night;
Being gazed upon by millions of stars
For a view did I ask for.

When the moon dance leads the starry night,
And takes the deep based mine,
The ocean dancing along;
For a space did I ask for.

When the red blossoms,
Where the tender zephyr's aroma blows,
****** green of the Earth break-throughs,
For a smell did I ask for.

Heaven wreathed the sun,
With garlands of myriad planets,
When the depth of the night is found,
And millions of lives awaken,
Over the violet Earth,
Singing nightingales upon the rose!
For hearing did I ask for.

Where the spring flourishes,
Into the meadows midst,
Spring from the secrets within!
Beneath the shadowy bower
Wherein the sun shines
Into the eternal shadow!
For a drink did I ask for.

When to reach end, the blooming flowers
The spring flourishes, utilize to the end,
For a touch did I ask for.

When rises the angelic dawn,
With the whole world anew,
And breaks through once more!
For a return did I ask for.

For your world brimful,
When I am no longer in,
But in nobody, an empty brim!
To fill them all I ask for!
 Mar 2019 POSSIBLE
Shofi Ahmed
I will walk blindfolded
towards you.

I will forget I am walking
down the full moon.
One that's painstakingly alluring
so pure mesmerising beautiful.

Any star gets a glimpse of it
loses its sleep keeps eying on it
waking all night and it witnesses:
'The cutie is shining over my head'.

I will still keep it shut
I will let my sea sighs in the dark
while keep walking on my way.

Until you say so your sweet word:
'Now you do, open your eyes'!
 Mar 2019 POSSIBLE
Shofi Ahmed
Shining upon the rose,
lovely, the sun rises
over the midday sky.

Without a second thought,
the brightest one steps forward,
bends an ear to the ground.

The Prophet Muhammad’s (PBUH)
wife was waiting.
He was walking his way home.

Maybe—or maybe not—
one revives from the death-sleep of night.
But hearing the sound
of the beloved’s foot returning,
one cannot die.

The blessed lady heard
the sound of a foot,
and was sure it was his:
“This is it—it’s the man, it’s him!
He is coming home.”

The sun is walking toward the rose;
it will show up
in no time.

Ah—but only to discover:
it was Fathima walking
to her father’s home!

She—a woman—
had the foot sound of the man,
the greatest of all!
The very one no other could imitate—
for he was the masculine original.

Because from the one,
the same circle came
the man and the woman—
maybe with a little gap,
spilling infinite pi decimals,
new days and new nights.

Still, all is but the show
of the one Moon and the one Sun.
 Mar 2019 POSSIBLE
Ann
keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  to is what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.
"Keep your eyes closed, love. sometimes all you have to listen is to what the sound of the waves tells you to do."

When I was much younger, beaches were my second favorite places. I still love watching waves as they go by, crashing against each other and the whole process repeating all over again.
I never understood why they always use x's and o's.

I never understood how a hug could be so safe and completely surrounding, like an o.

I never knew that a kiss, like an x, could cancel out everything and anything else.

But now I do.
O.K
xoxo, kisses and hugs to the love of my life.
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