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Maha Salman Mar 2016
I grasp on to what is left of time
yet it dissipates elusively upon the hooks
of youth.
I wonder if I were to end it all,
perhaps I would be frozen in time;
a mere visage glancing upon the tendrils of adolescence
who claim to be "eminent for their age."
Maha Salman Feb 2016
Outlined in the shadows of dawn,
the vista of ocean softly reveals
a repletion of reflection across the faint musk of light.
I ask myself again if I were able to write a sonnet within
the acres of crystalline perfection,
yet all I can do
is form a mere line
denting the shimmer
of sand.
Maha Salman Jan 2016
A recollection of images serenade their emotions,
Crafted by a crystaline pebble; bathed by the cold winter light
Whilst I ponder the existence of sensibility and rationality.
All I could focus on
Was the tranquility of how a dying light ,
Conformed to the winter solictice,
Can create the essence of luminosity
Kissing the gentle drops of condensation,
Like a rose brushing the tips of a child's fingers.
Maha Salman Jan 2016
A feather
gently pats the broken roof tops
in hopes of
Clinging to the suburban warmth
of illuminated glass.
I can see that this feather
(For a single second)
subtends by the chipped door
But even time is not strong enough,
For slowly that feather
falls prey to the enchantment of
A breeze.
Maha Salman Dec 2015
Weaving a dance within the melodic chaos of what we call music
is as if you ask
papers to rustle in synch with the deathly disposition of pollution.
It's easy to wreck this world with beauty
if one is able to entwine more trees across the strung cracks
of breaking twigs coated with spiders and
dead carcasses of honey bees battered to the ground.
Notions of spiders being artists are tossed with
disgust with the basis of a body
inked with obsidian tresses.
People forget that spiders create
webs painting the illusion of a dew dropped sky.
And bees fumble with honey
gorged within the melting ecstasy of sweetness.
may not seem capable of more than snapping in dying echoes,
but they are a part of nature.
Isn't nature considered
Life is a blessing
A gift that has already been given
A time to deeply cherish
A purpose for living
Tender moments will appear
And they will take your breath away
Gentle breezes will blow
As time passes on each day
Maha Salman Dec 2015
drops across the sliver panes of
a creaking window, sliding meticulously inside the
softened pores of my heart.
The droplets of the rain...graze my vision's confusion
for in one endless second
the oceanic clarity of a rain drop
spins its hidden secrets into
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