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 Nov 2014 Queen
Sia Jane
If I am to count,
One hundred & seventy five days
Have passed by
Since the taste of gooseberries,
Peaches with a crisp aromatic
Taste, graced my lips.
As I type, my lips
Imagine, the Loire white
Embracing all taste buds.
I can smell the depth & body,
The lingering scent
And how around the cold glass
Would form a dew.
I can feel the weight
Of the most fine rimmed
Of drinking glasses.
Not the crystal glasses
My mother has become so
Accustomed to.
But my favourite glass
One in which would hold
The half bottle of wine
I could pass off
As less.
Red chipped nails,
Form a snake hold
Around the glass,
My hand feels the chill.

What is to be remembered
In my nostalgic recollections
Is how that taste remains
Even today.
One hundred & seventy five days
Have passed by
And those gooseberry,
And peach undertones
Still linger on my lips.

© Sia Jane
 Oct 2014 Queen
sanctuary
Light
 Oct 2014 Queen
sanctuary
Tell me what you love
I'd give it all
You want passion?
I'll make fire to ignite your soul
You want sincerity?
I'd look you straight in the eyes and hope to see beyond your soul and answer anything you wish to know
You want material possessions?
I'll surprise you when you least expect it
You want someone else?
I'll set you free
Let you soar high like an eagle
Tell me what you want– I'd give it all
The world is yours
I'll let you try anything and everything
If it's death we shall do it together
A world without you is no better than a world without light
I hope you feel the intensity and let it burn
I hope with that, I have touched your heart
Because with you, I already have the world

Nothing is more precious that you my northern star, my luminescent sky.
/
When you are growing as a poet
your pain is pining to born a poetry
where there are too many clouds of emotions gathering,
also a pensive mood longing
then the thunder of thoughts growing,
your paper is awaiting for the first word
as I was waiting for you, my love
when you were coming slowly
then words of rain raining,
automatically,
randomly

When the first raindrop pings on the pond
even you don't know when it will be stopped
how far it will be covered
which path it will be taken
even its density,
dignity,
or the diversity

Your first word inks on the paper
you don’t know when it will be finished
which way the words will be taken
even you don't know
its size or style,
its fashion or the scheme

Either it's a long or a short
or even a sonnet or a verse
even its rhyming
or the rhythm

You should not think about its length
of course words grow as long as
the metaphors can travel
through its thoughts of cohesion
and its feelings moving
naturally,
poetically

You should not count the words
or even you can't stop within a limit
it makes your thoughts imperfect
rather you can tell totally
about the life,
or can tell about
the love easily
or beyond the life spontaneously

The words can grow 3,5,7
lines for a haiku
or even it goes for a mile for an epitaph
or more for an epic  

Poetry executes through words
words come from thoughts
thoughts come from the emotions
and ends with the wisdom
/
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Tribute to Robert Frost, my beloved poet
Based on the theme and thoughts of Robert Frost.
 Oct 2014 Queen
Min Blue
Happiness
 Oct 2014 Queen
Min Blue
A distant memory
Overshadowed by fear and agony

Like a once upon a time
In a tragic fairytale

The city of lights
That reminded me of you
Now reminded me of freedom

Oh baby, I don't need you

I am
my own
*happiness
 Oct 2014 Queen
ryn
Give Me My Space
 Oct 2014 Queen
ryn
Give me a minute
To read the stars
Lamenting in their stories
Their laboured twinkling far and sparse

Give me this moment
To stumble and swoon
My branches reaching for
The faraway moon

Give me a while
To be one with the universe
Hear the colliding planets
As they spill their mournful verse

Give me some time
To plot my rightful place
Within my uncharted galaxy
And collapsing space...
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