Hero's are not extraordinary people doing extraordinary things
Instead they are ordinary people seeming to do extraordinary things
If you asked them they would say they are ordinary people doing ordinary things, they don't view themselves as Hero's
They had the courage to rush in and help at a time of need
Have you ever rushed in to help a friend, you might be a Hero to them
Sometimes a Hero wears a uniform and sometimes not
Often times a Hero gives whatever they got
If a family is in need of food and you give to help them, you might become a Hero to them
Being a Hero does not require money, you can be a Hero by giving of your time, volunteering in your community
You could also visit a shut in, or visit at a nursing home
You might be a Hero to them
You could be a Hero already by raising a child with special needs
Hero's take many forms indeed
Hero's step in when others are in need, we can take their lead and follow their example and be a Hero too
Be a Hero, someone needs you

///

It is very easy to bear a child
when you are a good parent or not

It is also not too tough to write some words
when you are a good poet or not

But it is too tough for a parent to grow up   
their child as being a real man

As it is too tough for a poet to make
a meaningful poem with those words

Though either you are a very good parent
or a very good poet

///
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

A walk upon the waters; nigh
Shalt not split thy vein
Lest furtive glances; sigh
To bear upon His Name.

What twills apart my Being
Must extricate a feeling
Is truly trying triumph
For brew upon the brow.

If moorings mast is cracking
then ****** upon the wind
for deeper trust be lacking
my Bow I must rescind.

a Keeper of her stables
should roll up bales of hay
a Reader of her Fables
would wish to port her Bay

Make for meager living
In a time as starkly stout
To climb upon the mountain
Into the tempest, Shout!!

from ash to soul and soul to ash,
a continuation of life ever-last;
dancing with hexahedron hierarchy --
eating off epidemic oligarchy --

we've crowned a fool, with saviours in town;
our eyes in wool, 'til we turn around,
with eyes of indigo, soaring free,
an extra sight within the trees...

soon each shape moulds together as one,
like scattered stars at midnight come,
an image emerges from the light,
which unveils such a splendid sight:

the fall of kings, the rise of queens
and all the other fragile things;
love and beauty on the tongue,
swivelled down into the lungs,

knowing not what to become,
the cringe of fear resides in some;
hide inside a box with ***
until the waking morning comes...

it's time to rise: wake up! wake up!
leave your box, dispose of cups;
out of the office, into vast love
of a day which is anew, because --

the dark is done if you wish to banish;
revolution is not so outlandish,
when fish merely roam in schools of thought,
with nothing ever truly taught,

until one day, the shark will come,
and cause you to despise your ***,
your weak hand, and your menace,
for all is well when there is penance,

"for they know not what they do...",
leader to people, as lion to shrew;
abolishing all antiquity
in order to reach sublimity.

Words have left its home,
Wonder where my story has headed to,
For today I have no poetry that rhymes.
Opened a treasure box after midnight,
Eyes of mine swelled in tears.
I read the vows and wishes of the past,
Reminisced what history had left me with.

With trembling hands and veins that felt electrocuted,
I still relived flashes of images, familiar between two souls.
You dare to sketch your own grave now,
With my desired wooden swing near your lost soul,
Strings of joy had vanished into your arms for now.
Will I ever revive them into my very own, I might ask.
Doubts of future overwhelms me,
So does what will be and not to be.

You are a pure soul to me,
I don’t understand your defense, don’t think I ever will.
For I have only written your blemishes in the sea shore,
Where the distant waves crashes in and washes them away.
The cravings of your big heart is in mine,
Where it shall remain,
If you ever want to find yourself,
Don’t you look further than the gift within your every breath.

You will find it within your divine smile,
The very light you have given to me.
Words have dried up tonight my love,
How can anyone give nothing yet have given everything?
I can’t sing a melody,
Yet you have heard my rhythm.
Did not miss on a single beat,
I wonder if that is the very reason of your presence.
Tonight I am out of my mind,
It is incinerating the life out of me.

The line before and after shall have no resemblance to one another.
For each line is picked out from an exotic memory.
Call it a prose or a message of a restless heart,
Tonight the lover of words does not care its worth.
I have called you in many names,
I have come to know you in various forms.
The giver, the lover, the fighter, the dreamer.

Whatever you maybe now or tomorrow,
Keep my love with you in your endless journey.
And grow; grow my love out of this filthy world.
It has nothing much to offer you,
So find your own freedom in the only truth.
My voice is your voice,
Use them, keep your morals glowing.

I may not be seeing your every step,
Nonetheless, my smile is immortal in this voyage.
It shall hug your smile every time it collides.
My ramblings are long when I have no directions,
Bear with me as I end my plight soon.
I love you are words that are scarce,
They always have been.
They are just words imprinted on screens or papers,
My love is like nature,
Wherever you go, it shall invite itself to you.
Waiting for you to touch them,
Feel them,
Hear them,
Emphasize the wilderness.

You won’t need presence of this old lover,
To remind you of those etched memory.
I shall strum on an old guitar maybe,
And someday get lucky to have a ring.
That ring of life they say,
The one where they live happily ever after,
I will meet you there, I am sure.
Till then, capture my loving solitude within yourself,
As my smile fades into yours in this spiteful night.

Crispy leaves winter brown
crackle neath her feet
she looks good out of town
her eyes are playing sweet!

A little haze morn at ten
the place is real peace
on my lips desires rain
wishing stealing kiss!

She knows it quickens feet
maybe she wants too
her eyes when my eyes meet
read the twinkling cue!

Just we two froths a brew
none to find and look
blushing lips’ crimson hue
knows only that nook!