-◇-

I write,  

but I am not a poet

I feel emotions so intense
I spill them in ink across a page

but I am not a poet

I am forced to release thoughts
from my mind

but I am not a poet

my words are presented as I feel them
they do not make a poem

as I am not a poet

my senses view, smell, taste, hear and feel things
so differently from many

but I am not a poet

Phrases and images appear in my mind
I have to share these wondrous things

but I am not a poet

I am not sure what makes a poet.

This I will sit and quietly ponder,
reflect upon,
write about
because maybe,  just maybe

I am a poet

-◇-

~

Where once was laughter
now is silence,

the curtain falls

I had a little secret
That was so little
Now I feel today that
I could not tell you yesterday

Tried and tried several times
You never gave me a chance to say,
my secret songs -
I tried and tried several times
I could not....
I could not.....

Sometimes I felt pain
When you were passing,
outside from my door
I tried and tried several times
I could not...
I could not....

Today, days has changed
I am paying price for my secret
May be, it could change my life
If I told you my secret,
the little secret

I was not caged but-
may be a shadow lied there
Now time is reverse
The secret is over
‘O’ I could not tell you my secret

A Secret …
A priceless secret
My little secret was secret
The secret is
I love you
and let me love -

@Musfiq us shaleheen

Coal, graphite and diamond
All are elements of pure carbon
If you take a vote
I will go with graphite
Cause I am a writer -

@ Musfiq us shaleheen

She chases the darkness,
Nothing, but darkness and her,
She sits there,
Darkness a blanket she can wear,
And she listens to the nothingness
that only the darkness allows;

And if she was still aware,
I'm sure she would get down on her knees
and Thank the darkness for the
Silence,
The Blessed Silence
that cocoons her now;

and when daylight comes,
she runs and hides,
hiding from the light that burns,
hiding from the pain and hiding
from the voices, the voices to loud,
and she waits for the sunset,
Eager to be spared.
then she's running again,
into the darkness,
back to the Nothingness
that the darkness allows.*

And if she was still aware,
I'm sure she would get down on her knees,
and Thank the darkness
for the Silence,
The Blessed silence
that cocoons her now.

~

we have never loved until

with one we’ve shared our laughter’s song,

and wept upon our lover’s neck,

filled our cup with heaven’s wine,

and labored silently as one

to see brought out the other’s best;

that when our light on earth grows dim,

like setting sun our time has come,

with arms entwined one final time

we can say with fleeting breath,

“our treasure lies not in frail hands,

but beats forever in our breast.”