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Forsaken identity
Distant nature
Deepening chasm
Between worlds
Tired minds
Clichéd diktats  
Concentrated power
High-handedness
Iron fists
Crushed rebellion
Tired souls
Unsavory history
Swelling disharmony
Point of no return
Given a chance
Missed opportunities
For many centuries
Time to wrap up
The hegemony
Look no further
For poetry is within you
Let the soul flow freely
Listen to the quiet murmur
Tranquil, flows feelings
Time is on an eternal journey
Mind maps the path
Life’s notebook adds a blank page
For everyday anecdotes
Let the blood flow happily
Take the nature’s course
Every journey a revelation
Look no further
For poetry is within you
 Jun 2015 HRTsOnFyR
sajjad ali
The poet died before he was born
lived in a place that was free of scorn
had the love he dreamed about all his life
made Knowledge his girlfriend and Wisdom His wife
tripped out on wine all day
experienced the heights of ecstasy within his own mind
live in paradise and complained at night
talked to god and got sick of the conversation
talk is cheap , fun is in action ,,,,
written something after a few days
Stopping to think about it,
having an in-a-body experience
truly is far more peculiar than
having an out-of-body experience
Be grateful that it happens at all.
We, the living, are a lucky few.
The river, her vigor sublimated, is a thoughtful flow
after the daring dive head on from the pinnacle of the cliff,
madly arrogant roaring rush through the dense woods
in spate during torrential monsoons muddy red,
satiated now, at ease, meditative, inner currents subdued.

These planes are different, the river an uncanny imitation of a pond,
the white swan, she  keeps still, unfazed by the pulls to four sides
falling in love with the enigmatic pink lotus, my witness
that blooms alone, in the marshy shallows, only for her to fall in love.

Amazing is the swan's prowess,she  makes the mighty river
accept her ease, wise tranquil pace and brings to a slow down
little by little, listening to the inner music,which is oh! haunting
the river now comes to trance yogi like, in sync with the
foaming green waves of trees along both the banks,
the whisper of wind to coconut leaves,if you listen
is the mystic mantra, "Ï am that..I am that..I am that"

wisdom isn't alien, don't look for it atop only the mountains
it's in the wind's hands,on the lap of  land and in water's prompt,
what space evokes when one merges seamlessly in nature's divine ,
the song one hears silent within, echoes aloud in nature's chant.

My heart is ruled only by her, the white swan.I realize.
In a clinic, getting treated for amnesia of the soul,
I meet her, by chance and feel a sense of deja vu,
but can't place her properly,from which age do you appear?
you sure are her. Your face is familiar, even after ages,
then you ask me whether I remember; in my brain
solar flair like magnetic energy, light up hidden spaces.
The red poppy design, isn't it a pointer enough?
"The poppy effect.My insignia won't allow to forget
though I too fall in to a forgetfulness described as divine"
In a moment, it happens, I tumble down parting
thick clouds of stardust memories,fleeting, yet haunting,
intoxicating scent of poppies, ***** haze  takes me over

youth was the country, we've been banished from long time back,
I destroyed my passport, in an angst, that can never be expressed,
I land on my legs, flying down,before her curious eyes and smile,
interplanetary voyagers, we hardly know what happens to us,
like a poem with images broken as seeds  and spawn.

I was the naked man on your bed, the day you came in
under the cover of darkness, made love heartily till the morn,
you mourned aloud, I didn't stop you, no taboo,threatened me,
and you said, would never forget the play of natural instincts.
in many places we met, in some strangers, others as lovers,
each night different, with our bodies regaling in ****** finger play,
we sat opposite, had dinners, joked about blind dates, being swapped,
promised to be in touch soon and properly date, though not compelled,
to find out more about ****** habits and ,decide where to meet.

At the time of a heist, notorious, we meet in a diamond showroom,
you thought I am the kind pin that pulls the string.A mole I suspected
you were, though confident in duping you one more sweet time.
In this world of make believe, you can take me as any avatar you think.
Converging in each other's eyes, we reconcile and forgive. for this life
You whisper, "Ï knew you were a nihilist"Ẃe were, that and more,
exploring the core,till the essence inexplicable, will be  clear.

Appreciating a glass of fine wine, we sit opposite,to each other.
we shake hands and I see you off, from an underground station,
to a galaxy, light years away,called Pinwheel, a cosmic  spiral,
then, I realize, we don't exist, you , me or whoever think they are,
when we insist, we exist, forget it brother,only eternity, nothing else.
 Jun 2015 HRTsOnFyR
SE Reimer
~

“can a mother forget her child..."
though separated by the grave?
the son she bore and bathed,
the one whom life she gave,
the one she nursed and fed,
whom she carried on her side?
the son she taught to love,
to give, to walk, to pray,
him she watched with pride?
no, never... and a day,
not ever in one thousand years;
though the earth go on forever,
the son who was her babe
she'll not forget him, ever!

~

*post script.

celebrating my dearest wife, loving mother
and doting grandmother on this Mother’s Day!  
sons she gave us, three she bore;
two with us... one gone on...
awaiting our arrival, home.

Isaiah 49:15
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