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Little by little,
The colors of the fair are going to finish
One day,
It will be the end
  Of all the vagary

Slow decay of the days
This known Spring afternoon
  Turn to be fading
  Tired
Going to be end

Who has left thy love
Thy hide all secrets in the heart
Days have lost within the days
Getting the path between the path

On what hope,
Loved to Back
And what means
   The life
   Family
Two days of this world
  One day you come
  One day you go
Know the hearts who are loving
   Singing
   Going

On what for her mind cry
She who left her mind
In half of the way
How She grabs all the demands!
Whatever words She departed
In the Songs of despair

So Mind Say
Who is where
Who is for whom
Thy know
Not Anybody else
Passing the every moment
   Alienating  
   Loveless
   Mysterious

Such a colorful world
   Growing
   Glittering  
But this known Spring afternoon
  Turn to be fading
  Tired
Slow decay of the days
Growing to fade your face
Going to be End

@Musfiq us shaleheen
decay of days

if like please share your comments/
  Feb 2015 Marium Iqbal
ryn
When gentle breezes turn into gale,
     remember that you will prevail.

       You may tear at these pages daily,
in search of peace and tranquillity.
   Planting hope and scattering wishes,
    Spilling blood in smears and blemishes...
       Flying out of the dark on
     wings of birds.
       Bridging the rippling void through
           severed words.

                Seeking...
             Reaching...
               Imploring...
            Writing...


     Be not wary of eyes that speak.
  Be not afraid of mouths that leak.

Know that our scribbles are only
   sacred to us.
       Emotions and thoughts we
           bind and truss.

  What we put forth, we owe it to ourselves...
     Bits of us we've kept hidden in the
darkest rooms; atop the highest shelves.

You...
      are wielder of your mighty pen.
You...
      determine how far or long your
         words would span.

   Your words... They're precious gold.
Many or little; be them new or old.

So let drip your ink with little reservation...
  Let us grow from strength to strength
     as life teaches its lessons.

   Rise up and live on in these here pages,
     For here exist only
         freedom;
               not cages.
Dedicated to writers here who are always apprehensive about posting or think very little of their writes.

Know that your words are gold. And the rest of us as readers are lucky enough be granted access into your mind, heart and life.

Keep the faith. Keep writing. Keep posting...
.
  Feb 2015 Marium Iqbal
Poetic T
I was drinking from the skull
Of a long dead bird, I had eaten
It a while back, it tasted like
Chicken!!
But not much to the bone.
I wondered if I was like
Hannah,
Henry,
Hello
Brain remember it, any way
Mind did wonder past my
Teeth, tongue it slid like
That jelly mother did make.
I gagged a moment, but then
All settled not a zombie,
But not a bad tasting brain.
"Hannibal"
"Lecture"
"Lector"
Snuck down stairs, DVD on
I remember the noise and
"Clarice"
Remember pinkie raised
When drinking from a cup
Haha...
Its the little things that make me
Smile. How you doing there friend
He doesn't talk much now, smells
Funny too, but even the dead are
Company when you only have you.
Apocalyptic
Apocalypse
Stopped
Everything, screaming, crying, chill
Its not that bad no tax, no big
Brother looking down on you.
"Ok running for your life"
"Keeps you healthy"
Plus
"Eating leftovers mouldy in a bin"
"What doesn't **** you makes you stronger"
"Negative"
As I regurgitate it back to the bin,
It has its pros and cons
But I miss the chatter
The one on one,
"How was your day"
"You look tasty"
"Why you looking at me that way"
Knife to the side of the head.
"BOOOM"
"O'no you didn't"
Skinny little freak trying biting moves,
This isn't PAC MANtm fool.
You meet interesting people on the road,
All I want to do is have some    
"Apocalyptic Chatter"
"Howdy Mam"
That's a big knife I say!!
As I pull out old faithful,
She screams I cant take that
And runs off screaming the other way
Run ***** Run,
The Apocalypse isn't boring
But I do miss the day to day chatter waking each day.
~~
Sometimes Loudly
Sometimes Silently
Yellow leaves have fallen,
Becoming dry
Pale
Passing through as the grained Sound on the Street

Slowly dark flees across the evenings
What an Illusion!
What Shadows!
Has Shuffled
The Past
Present
Future

Your form that creates metaphors
And what a wonderful feel
Through out its gravity
Night dancing,
When aroma of Night-Queen
Moving in the air,
Plays with the moonlit
As if Reminds
The First love Poem

Has burned within the form
Standing to fascinate
Away, a dense bunch
Of vine Forest
Bored Air moving
Listening the murmur
Of dried leaves
In the passing wind of banner
As if Someone Calling with
My old name

Empty
Restless Heart
Today is the tune that somewhere else
Like a flow
Of a distant river melody,
Surging waves of the attack
In the Strange night of Spring

Continuous grey leaves falling
Falling on the Floor
Whispering the words on the street goes through
What an Illusion!
What Shadows!
~~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
whispering the words on the street goes through/
Sparrow's twitter
From the dawn of
Hearing the hassle of Myna
This morning
Or the Singing Cuckoo
Of yesterday afternoon

Read the language of their time
When they say it certainly
As the Morning
Evenings
Or mid of the Summer noon

Read their body language
When they are sounding
Beside window
Or playing
In the lake water

Draw my attention
But I don't understand
Completely
Assume
It is a pester
Argue with friends
Or by calling the dear
At this time,
We say that the Spring
Or Say any unspoken Dream
Seeking through the Bridge
That breezing over Heart
And The Soul

You invite
The spring comes
But I do not understand
So what are the
Give your tunes
I sorted the words

Whatever may be the tune
Guess again,
Or partial
But they say
We see
Hear
Their songs
Their mother tongue

They pointed out that
Indicates
Each other
To visit the open sky
Afield
Dance with the wind
It also has to
Entertained
Any pain that may be broken
Their heart
Playing a melancholy tune

Which refers to the words
Of their mother
The words
Of the Nature
Realizes that we
But  never try to feel with the heart
/
The Language of Birds
That we have never tried to feel with the heart
/
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