Not everything I can make into a poem
like the sky just after rain
her embroidered smile its minutest hem
in her shade of cornea a grain of pain!

Not everything I can make into a poem
like wind eddies from wings of bird
her amorous veil that stokes my flame
in her lips’ quiver the unuttered word!

Not everything I can make into a poem
like the heron’s swoosh on the moon of marsh
her endless aroma without a name
in her eyes the million stars!

Not everything I can make into a poem
like when perches the bird on nest
her flushed cheeks in love game
in her kiss the sea salt’s taste!

In this place , i find myself
In this case , i cry every time
While we share the same sky
We stare at the same moon
Why do i have to stay alone
In this lonely room
Am i right or wrong?
Or am i a fool
I've been strong
But this has brought me
To my knees
Tell me please
You're here to stay
Stay , oh stay
And never walk away
This painted wall
Seems so black
Remembering all those names
You would call
I need you back
And i'm sorry
Yes i apologize
If i could
Yes i'd turn it other wise
No , we can't turn back time
Through this hate
My careness for you can't shine
I'm sorry again
I'll be here
When you need me then

Get closer to yourself
Craving for your attention and care
The heart beats for you first
As you become aware of the world
Welcoming you to the celestial space
Carrying your beautiful soul
With all the pristine feelings intact
Ready to face the world and start living
In this chapter, don’t forget yourself
Pull yourself closer to your inner self

Hair
It is not Fair
How Hard
To maintain
How Hard to control
Fall
How Hard to sustain
Change in climate
How Hard to medicate
Myself to strengthen
How Hard to rid of tensions
Which mainly causes this

my own thoughts keep me trapped,
the bonds tighten when I try to
think my way out

I am only truly free when I open my
heart and mind to something different,
which is to open myself to love

I am slowly lifted out of myself,
when I give and receive love.
helping others, really helps me
to be free

The burning of the incense bowls.
Anointing of the oils.
The fruits brought from the forest.
The harvest from the soil.

Fires, that bring warmth to hands,
burn brightly on the hill.
The bounty from the hunters toil,
smoulders, blackened on the grill.

The thoughts that guide his dreams at night.
Resting with an open soul.
The fears that sometimes darken days,
are never his, not his alone.
The fear that sometimes darkens souls,
never fed with thoughts to grow.

Table clock has rang
Boy has supposed to hang
He should be can
One day he will be a man
I think it is a big fun
Bag has on his shoulder
Books like some big boulder!
And he runs like a smart soldier

@ Musfiq us shaleheen

I have framed you
In soft pewter blues
For too long

You are an arc of indelible
Electricity
Thunder clapping through
My broken heart
In an endless winter storm