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 3d Sehar
You make me catch my breath
so often
I fear I will starve the world
of oxygen
 Sep 5 Sehar
You see, my dear, you have turned my world into a real-life romance movie.  That night you grabbed my hand and twirled me around under a star filled sky, you danced away with my heart.  You've taken me on countless adventures and shown me what the definition of Happy looks like.  Even on nights we spit fire back and forth, I don't dream of being with anyone else.  In fact, I think I'd stay even with your hands around my neck.
 Sep 5 Sehar
 Sep 5 Sehar
god said
"love your enemy"

So I loved myself.
 Sep 1 Sehar
Pick me up. Read me.
Fan my pages. Break my spine.
Make notes. Place bookmarks.
Try to learn and understand what may not make sense to you.
Skip ahead and then go back.
Take me in.
Dog-ear the important pages.
Feel the weight of the whole volume.
Do you have questions?
What are your favorite parts?
What do you wish to rewrite?
Or do you only wish to add?
Pick me up. Read me.
 Sep 1 Sehar
 Sep 1 Sehar
I'm sorry I stole your sweatshirt
I was aiming for your heart
This was the closest I could get
Without completely falling apart
I'm sorry
 Aug 4 Sehar
Nat Lipstadt

Shābāsh (Hindi: शाबाश, Urdu: شاباش, Punjabi: ਸ਼ਾਬਾਸ਼, Bengali: শাবাশ, Telugu: శబాష్) is a term used in the Indian subcontinent to signal commendation for an achievement, similar in meaning to
bravo and kudos.

a poem writ sometimes, oft, snaps back,
was surprising recipient
of a commendation in language I knew not

the poem spoke well of broken boundaries,
between in my instance, Jew and Muslim,
capturing a momentary parting
of the seaways and
walls of misbelief and mischief,
normally employed
to keep our divisions,
parted perpetually

I’ve decided to begin to use shabash now,
my go to word from now on,
a small quiet way to say
well done

it starts with one word,
a stretching hand across the face fence,
imagining John Lennon’s imagine-world,
who lay dying when I was a young father of thirty,
we residing less than a mile away from each other

little could I imagine then that poetry would pick me at all,
especially to write of words in dialects I don’t speak,
but imaging their pastel colorations flying by in gentle breezes,
eager to be grabbed, plucked from the air

when I say to you, in the softest spoke,


to all of us,
for choosing this path,
using your words in every dialect,
to spread the imagination
of good will

10:10 am
“Anyone that knows my work knows how I fit into the religious model. Like a polygon into a circular slot.
But this is actually a good piece. I was raised in a very orthodox Muslim family and although my experiences of faith are overwhelmingly negative, this piece is a breath of fresh air.”

“Nicely written, matey. Shabash.”
 Jun 2018
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