No I am not a poet
I am the poem itself
My life is the alphabet
My spirit is the shelf
My voice is the rhyme
Sometimes it is scared
Chained by hands of time
Lost and hardly heard
A total scribble a sigh
Thoughts mad in head
They don't want to die
They want to live instead
For the lines not yet gone
I hope they rightly stand
And end perfectly done
To fall on the right hand

∴ Lyna Salman

Hark! Praise to Queen Corona birth
The life savour of our mother earth
Man should get reminded by his duty
He's only a visitor in nature's beauty

For rich and poor same punishment
Earth is healing like a magic serpent
Wildlife is out in peace without man
Goats in Wales and deer in Japan

Ducks in Paris, peacocks in Mumbai
Orcas in America have a lot to say
To the otters in Singapore seas
To the Ganga river and clear Venice

The earth enjoyes a glorious dance
At last her majesty had this chance
The leaves are clapping on all the trees
The Maestro wind plays a magic breeze

∴ Lyna Salman

Worlds cut with swords
But intact i roll like dice
Arrows with wicked words
But as every dusk i rise
Pull me from my roots
But i'm a very wild soul
Like seeds i grow like fruits
I stregthen with every fall
My home is infinite wind
For universal love i aspire
With everything I'm twinned
Oneness is my pure desire

∴ Lyna Salman