.
..
The dream was broken in transit
with an ant's bite
thought,
the rest of the part in another night,
in another dream
but that didn't happen

Then one day
at the last bus of the night,
I saw her with someone
Not in a dream rather in the reality  

She got to the next stop
I called out,
She left with a mystic smile,
disappeared within the shadows

Then  didn't go anymore
I missed the bus or the bus left me  
Either couldn't went back to home
Or not to go any other place in front  
.......

.
..
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

As she plays
the Schubert
piano piece
Yochana thinks

on Benedict
even as her mother  
stands behind her
listening to her

every note
Benedict's image
fills her mind
the kiss still

feels damp
upon her lips
and cheek
and as she fingers

the Schubert
she senses her fingers
wanting to finger him
her mother says

you missed a note
you are not focusing
Yochana pauses
her fingers

over the keyboard
of black and white
senses her mother's breath
upon her neck

her mother's fingers
tapping her shoulder
and even as
she begins

to play again
it's Benedict whom
she thinks on
and his eyes she sees

in the reflection
of the piano wood
it must flow
her mother says

let Schubert speak
but Benedict's fingers
on her back
as he held her close

are all she feels
as she moves
to the music's pulse
on the piano stool

and as her mother's breath
floats upon her neck
it's his breath
she imagines

is there
and she and he
not there at the piano
but closer elsewhere.

re-elected 2 years in
emancipated from the Jackie Robinson thing
on a larger stage
causes everyone to listen
authentic  not posturing,
claiming a place in history for
America a teachable moment on the eve
of a Supreme victory,
rise  rose soar up
from the heart
spoke of race candidly the
gains we have made the road still needing travels.
He said Grace. He spoke of Grace. He spoke free as and
strong as an American President should. I witnessed, his growth
Our Countries evolving. A new day has dawned. Today.

sometimes
it doesn’t matter enough
sometimes
it matters but not enough to change it
sometimes
it matters but not enough to admit it
sometimes
it matters but it’s too difficult to change it
sometimes
pride and shame stand in the way
sometimes
fear stops change
sometimes
nothing is done and the paralysis of denial takes over
sometimes
the people you hurt forgive you and move on
sometimes
they want you to do the same

LEAVE HATRED OUTSIDE MY DOOR
WHEN YOU COME IN*

this Notice boarded on my door
seems to have done little to impress.

the ones that come in
still read from the hate book.

speak ill of others behind their back
curse those they don't agree with
spew vitriol against all not their own
criticize food habits and dresses
castigate the new generation
find fault with the old
generalize on the basis of race religion
trifle faith belief sentiment
envy for what they don't have
intensely dislike assumed disabilities
even a squint a stammer a mole a limp

more passionate in degrading than appreciating
systems, processes, relations, actions, attitudes.

people won't mend, behind them i think,

they're so ****** disgusting.

~

headline.
a middling's meddling muddled the mathmatical mix, messed up the milling, marring the miller's marriage merriment.

~

translation.
baker's assistant trying to help, triples only half of the ingredients in his boss's wedding cake.  result... fail!

just imagining myself a news editor and having fun with word play. :)
(: Steve

It has begun
Off to my right . . . dancing
Thumbs snapping
Music thumping
In all intensity
We are looking  . . .
Looking into the ways

Swaying ,
Chills surging ,
Together saying . . .
Power be to my sunset's moment
Don't steal it away

24 left
No more sound ,
Dancing done
But no less aware
We are not devided in two
As we wait for our sun to rise

12 . . .
When to live
When to die
Sacrifice the truth ? ? ?
Ha !
We paid our dues

Dance now again
Dance like it was an Irish jig
To the last second
Shed not a tear
Nor give in
Wail not , nor whimper
. . . But be brave

As I looked up at the roof over my head
Silent tears welled up in my eyes
Thinking of those without homes, seeking for shelter
Those whose cities were hit by a natural disaster

As I filled my stomach with food everyday
Silent tears welled up in my eyes
Thinking of those in poverty-stricken countries
Starving, fighting the hardship for centuries

As I cuddled my little one to sleep
Silent tears welled up in my eyes
Thinking of those who lost their loved ones
Due to fatal diseases or firing guns

As I lay on my bed every night
Silent tears welled up in my eyes
Remembering all the things I should be thankful for
Especially for still being able to breathe
*And so much more...

...
.
This is not a value of all the guests
who come for two days
At the end of all their hair grew gray
day after tomorrow nobody remember their words

Yellow, red rose of day
Even when it has become fade,
However, when the bursting of the land after rains
Still to stand a dry old tree as the witness of time

Then any other reason If ever come back the spring
The forgotten days song if ever robin reminds you
And all meaningless, the faces skin has felt fold
In front of eye tall wall has touched the sky

Yet  there is a gray afternoon
if you see a red glow in the sky black clouds
Silly, the frivolous legs once try to
Then after all events, remains only a long dark endless night-
..
.
@Musfiq us shaleheen