This is what happens when your own
         past--
Twisting and turning with you at some
         midnight hour-
  Becomes you, all over again at once,
          all too fast,
Overlapping you,  heart and soul,
          strenuous in power;
   Precious memories posted in
             unchartered  future;
Each note of thought  wearily clings, too
          often
  But a scene with  yourself,  demanding
             an answer,
Yet within past  content, drifting you to
              give-in, just to soften
  The unintelligent trail, past wishes
        revived in ardor:
For, without the pain of the past, can
        there be future?

            
                     -by
        HAKI. H. KASSIM.
        (d. March 25, 2024)

"Too many fall from
           great and good
       For you to doubt
           the likelihood."
                  -(fro) Robert
                   Frost's (poem)
          "Provide, Provide."



Too many have come
         and gone--
  Too many sought and
         thought--
For you to have lost or                    
        won;

  Too many climb up
        their dreams in
           light,
If only too fast they are
        washed ashore--
  Or left out to be
       'acquinted with the
           night,'
With no second chance,
           beaten to the core;
  And too many have put
           their heart with
               trust
In brute, brute another's
            heart,
  In the end with no love
            but driven to
               dust;
For too many fail to give
              another
  Try, too eager to treat
              with hate
The very lover with
        whom they felt
            together--
  Hence with no heart,
         and for nothing in
            hope to wait.

                       -by
            Hakim H. Kassim
             (d.Oct.12.2022)

Eyes I saw full of me,
  Blue, or brown, these
       now pass by me,
The lore of Love thus
       defined
Remains unspoken,
       though refined:
  'To where is he gone,'
       she in muttering
            tone asks;
We've left so much for
     the WASPS;
  Now, retreated for
     Allah's sake,
Where can I, for her,
     make the bake?
  Nor, for love, where to
     rest and reign--
To escape all of pain?
  Hello, God, hello saints,
Yes, we're your guests--
  Should we have to pay
      for our souls,
So exploited within
      these walls?

     -by Hakim H. Kassim.

Wild wishes, too high for worldly tries,
Celestial glows that do not fit into time
        and place,
  Lost love's tormented hopes and cries,
Come with fresh face at my dooryard.

   Wild wishes, desires that cannot be quenched
         in poor world's weak  arms,
Joys treading my footsteps  from Heaven
         above,
    All my loves long ago, my sweet heart-felt
         urges,
  Of all I ever seek, of all I ever wanted in heart,
Beckon to lead me to Higher Houses of
        content.

  Wild wishes, her face, her eyes, and the love I
        have for her,
Feelings I cannot put aside  no matter what,
  The deep-felt dream of uniting with her in
         truth,
She comes to me riding high on Wild Wishes
        for my  hand!

    -by Hakim H. Kassim.

There's no other to
   grieve your lost hope,
It's for you to face and
   cope;
With life's various
   despairs by yourself
     alone,
And alone must, wrestle
   and have it won;
Family would smile with
   you but for a moment,
And no friend could
   vouchsafe for you on
     Day of Judgement;
For so many will come
   'round you for
     embrace,
Yet on your own you
   must ride on life's
     every chase;
Though we rejoice in
   hope on every new
     morrow,
One couldn't care less
   for his own brother's
     sorrow!

        -by Hakim Kassim.  
   (d.September 21, 2024)

(for huda)
you don't care to remember yesterday--
even if you were the one who took the
    wrong way--

just to say you're "sorry," and make your
    peace,
for we'd then get-off on a new plate with
    some ease;

where's your conscience? aren't you for a
    minute sane?
you used shout at me with all your false
     complaint--

never caring to listen, too often baking
   my heart so sore,
till you at last broke our bond, and more!

--ah, how patient and quiet i bore your
   abuse,
for you then we're set to wreck money,
   and  without excuse--

determined as i then was, wanting to
   keep us together
as a family, soon to be a father and a
   mother;

there you're with false tears, and false
    argument all the same;
humbled,  i ignored who's right and who
   not, taking all the blame,

you didn't care to listen but ran away
    with your  "cousins" in team,
and i was left bitter alone, just to moan
    and  ponder over broken dream:

and tonight you come, seven years to this
   day,
imploring with  pleas of love, not to delay

a love, a you gone years ago: if i accept
you now anyway, how wouldn't i be down
   again swept?

              
                         -by Hakim H. Kassim.
                         (September 11, 2024)

-YOU.

the morning-sun glows in a Promise so
      celestial,
over your tender face, a soul too dear, too
      adorable

for this world  (of envy and hate) itself to
       astound
over  you--a Beauty, never seen or heard
       around;

reflecting in seductive rays across your
      face, with me stricken with your
          gleam,
your heavenly charms which I only fancy
     in my best dream--

that lip that I'd not tire of kissing but in
     my wishful unrest,
and those ******* I long for beyond what
    can be expressed;

a willing prisoner, I'm lost in the mystery
    of your eyes,
and not with my hand, but with all my
    heart I  glimpse your thighs;

your quiet, indifferent airs, your smile
arresting me in heart for longer than a
     while---

remembering, like seeing, you easily
     drives me  most lonely--
of all women, for Beauty aren't you
     the one and only?

                              -by Hakim Kassim.
                             (d. September 03, 2024)