Repair my wings. Fix them
up for me with your magical
strings. I'll carry you with me
over endless streams. Into
your dreams ill fly. Paint them
black for me. Splash them
with different shades of grey
if you don't mind. I want them
darker than the night's sky. I
want them to be seen in the
daylight. I want them in shades
that'll make us high. I want my
wings to fly to you on days like
these where your out of reach.
On days where im alone and
far away from home. In thunderstorms they'll spread
to protect you. In rain they'll
spread to shelter you better
than any umbrella would do.
In the cold they'll wrap you up
to keep you warm from winter's
cold breeze so you don't freeze.
Now would you kiss me and
repair my wings* ~

Why am I doing this again
I ask myself as
I spend another night
Pouring myself on
Paper
Only to tear it apart
Hours later
Why am I doing this again
I ask myself as
I spend another weekend
Wrapped up in
Thoughts
Of what could have been
Only to open up
To the coldness outside
Why am I doing this again
I ask myself
As I hide behind
The idea of what will be
To forget what is
Why am I doing this again
I ask myself as
I let my soul drown
Into your eyes
Eyes as black as coal
Eyes as deep as an abyss
With no end
I let myself fall
And find all
The torn papers
And all the abandoned
Thoughts
And I know the answer
To my question
I keep doing what I do
Because all of it reminds me
of your eyes
All of it reminds me
of home
And I let myself
Get consumed by you

/
Many days
I do not read any newspaper
Even do not see television
At all
Many days have gone
After You
I do not read any poetry

How to feel that since this morning!
Repeatedly hear identifying tunes on the air

Your arrival in the sky,
The air reverberates
Looks like another day
In the Paradise,
In another song,
Which brings the soul
The Aroma

Everyone is coming out
From all sides
Young Old
Babies Boys
Women Men
Everyone
Everyone is clapping
Singing the song of the same tune
This song is not the song of Rain
Not even a lamentation

The Southern breeze whispering your words
Slowly Said,
The Little Tailor Bird
No, No,
Not such a summer afternoon
Not even a hurricane warning

Each of the human eye
Follow the Eastern Sky  
Tireless Eye
Watching the sun,
The Red Sun,
You went to bring dreams for us
From the Sun

Hundreds of thousands of people
In his next question
Hand with Flower
Shoulder to Shoulder
Today will be the day of strangers,
The poet will come
We are standing in the flowers
Fist full of dreams to take

Float in the sky with white clouds
My dreams are calling again
Today is not such an Autumn
But Still feel like an Autumn
Indeed,  
The poet will come,
A poem in the New

Where each word will be spoken dream
Love to be evacuated
Poems that will repay
The debt to my Ancestor
Take revenge on thee
For their injustice,
Torture
Poems that would bring the stars
For our next generation
A poem that would bring the red rose for my darling,
Would bring such a smile to my mother's face
As Moon that smile
And that is simply killed false dreams
Will we ever Released
Sing Freedom Songs

The Poet,
My beloved Poet
You will come,
Will surely come
And will recite your immortal poem
/

@ Musfiq us shaleheen

Peaks that are needed
for the valleys.
If there are peaks
There are valleys.

There is no use of
forgetting the fallings
in the heights of life.
It is very important
each steps
to whom he mounted
the peaks of success.

I exist as a mirror
Wild lights have glazed over your skin
My whispers are tarnished
Our bodies a shield
Against the coming chills of a brittle wind

I linger with a breeze-like touch,
It comes out hoarse and swollen.
Thoughts  uttered with a breath of regret
Or a sigh of relief.

Your face turns foreign, a mesh of dark warmth
A light without the sun.
We’re all a wounded red
on the inside.