I used scarlet to outline lost
Upon my naked figure
But when I crossed the t
I began to cry
The pearls I wore clashed
With the rubies
Which produced a shade so cruel
That it cracked the plaster
On my ceiling

I vandalized Hope that day
- Never again will I finger paint

they tell  you  that  when  you  meet  'the one',
you just know. there are fireworks and sparks
and  your  heart  finally  begins  beating like it
should  but  no  one  told  me  that  i'd  be  in a
*******   library  and  i'd   look   up,   feel   my
stomach  drop  to the floor and sell my soul to
a  boy  that  appeared  like  a  dream  but  was
made                 of                 hell's                 fires.

I went to this meeting
(when I was a kid)
of hyenas;
and the ritual
consisted mainly of laughing
and they laughed and they laughed -
you know, and I just didn't get it

I demanded an explanation -
but no fellow-hyena could explain it

everybody laughs
nobody knows why;
and now I am an adult hyena
and I just laugh -  *it's something to do
with survival, I think

There was a girl.
And this girl wore her heart on her sleeve
Everyone saw this and everyone cared.

There was a guy.
And this guy wore his scars on his skin
Everyone saw this but no one cared.

Why would they?
She was beautiful, had a voice that made waking up worth while
He was beautiful too but you couldn't see that through his denials

The girl finally noticed the guy.
He was the only one who never said hi

She asked why he never cared
He answered "I'm sorry your majesty"

This went back and forth for a couple weeks
Until one day he didn't come to school

There was a guy.
And this guy hung a crown around his neck
No one saw this but everyone cared

The girl finally noticed the guy.
He was the only one who never said bye

Those messages on
Life
They are pretty good
Like a rose plant
With blushing flowers

But who can escape
From tomorrow

Even the plant has
Thorns

Be happy
Be normal
Be confident

These words are
Easy and
Free of cost

But, how can we
Really

Understand life
And it's journey

1
you come home
and there's bill
(not your friend
but the bill from
your internet provider)
for your cellphone and such

you read your bill
and your son
has to call up the ambulance,
further increasing your bill

2
your 16-year-old daughter
tells you:
"I've got news;
good or bad
depends on how you look
at it: I'm 4-months pregnant -
and before you ask me -
I ******* don't know who"

3
Your grandpa comes back
with his I-just-met-her girlfriend
and she tells you
to move out
and stop sponging on an old man
Your grandpa nods in admiration
and says: "Good on you, girl
I never had the heart to tell him that"

4
The chicken you had for dinner
at the restaurant
(and enjoying which
you went "ooh-wow")
was actually snake meat
topped with dog paws and ears

5
The kid you turned away
in your Scrooge mood
with no treat at the door
stands now at 2 am
beside your bed
with his head in his hands

/
When you are growing as a poet
your pain is pining to born a poetry
where there are too many clouds of emotions gathering,
also a pensive mood longing
then the thunder of thoughts growing,
your paper is awaiting for the first word
as I was waiting for you, my love
when you were coming slowly
then words of rain raining,
automatically,
randomly

When the first raindrop pings on the pond
even you don't know when it will be stopped
how far it will be covered
which path it will be taken
even its density,
dignity,
or the diversity

Your first word inks on the paper
you don’t know when it will be finished
which way the words will be taken
even you don't know
its size or style,
its fashion or the scheme

Either it's a long or a short
or even a sonnet or a verse
even its rhyming
or the rhythm

You should not think about its length
of course words grow as long as
the metaphors can travel
through its thoughts of cohesion
and its feelings moving
naturally,
poetically

You should not count the words
or even you can't stop within a limit
it makes your thoughts imperfect
rather you can tell totally
about the life,
or can tell about
the love easily
or beyond the life spontaneously

The words can grow 3,5,7
lines for a haiku
or even it goes for a mile for an epitaph
or more for an epic  

Poetry executes through words
words come from thoughts
thoughts come from the emotions
and ends with the wisdom
/
@ Musfiq us shaleheen