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Rangzeb Hussain May 2010
I wrote to her,
Phoned her too,
Left a text for her,
Sent her a postcard,
Even e-mailed her,

But...

Nothing,

Only the gaping silence
of the deepest chasm,
I am left with

Nothing

but a memory and a dream,
I think back now to a late Spring morning
when the world's birds sang
and I too sang with them,
It was the music written by her fingertips
across the acres of my now aching soul,
We met and talked through the gallery,
I could smell Summer's fragrance in her red hair
as we walked through room after room decorated
with art from the heart of a bygone time,
I gave her a book of poetry by Christina Rossetti
which made her smile and her voice sparkled,

Shyly, we two parted,
I, too full of fear to say what my heart did feel,
She, too much in awe to say the few words,
The words that would drip colour upon my canvas
with the brightest rainbow yet splashed,
That paint from the brush of her pearl,

I have now only tears that
daily erase the weeping paint of my love,
"My fair maid...
Why must you remain silent?"

Let us bridge this ravine with the diamonds days
which once joined our soul searching minds,
"O, what I would now give
to have those dreaming days back again..."




©Rangzeb Hussain
Rangzeb Hussain May 2010
Your graceful art
stole my heart,

Your etches and lines
drew the love of the divine,

Your sincerity and elation
sketched the beauty of God’s creation,

Your gentle integrity
made me see the warmth of real beauty,

Your soft tones and purity
overflowed with passion and simplicity,

Your shading from the dark to light
is the way to enlighten,

Your image of a son sitting across a father’s shoulders
was the very essence of love’s labouring soldiers,

Your face of a girl in modest thought
so rich with many details caught,

Your natural talent
in this world is very relevant,

Your fruitful search
will quench your soul’s thirst.



©Rangzeb Hussain
Rangzeb Hussain May 2010
Freedom is premium priced,
At the casino of the world nations throw the dice,
The tables are rigged by the fat rats and mice,
Girls in curvaceous miniskirts on poles entice,
***** laced drinks and cancer sticks merrily fleece,
Fizzy burgers are served filled with crucified cheese,
Layers of salt and blood and veins congealing with grease
Are the fillings inside the consumed meat,
Come to the sale of the century and let your life be diseased,
Take whatever you want and still you will never be pleased,
Remember, one day all will be held to account, so all evil immediately cease,
Do not make the mistake of prostituting the glorious deeds of Hercules
Or polluting and selling the message of almighty God so cheaply.



©Rangzeb Hussain
Rangzeb Hussain May 2010
Once, two lived under the shade of friendship,
They needed only to see into each other's eyes
For in them swam the pearls that were written
In their hearts.

From these glittering jewels of trust
A bond was born,
These two floated upon the carpet of memory,
Their lives travelling along the same colourful patterns.

She, pretty and funny and loving,
He, shy and deep and lyrical,
Music was theirs, and Poetry and Art too,
Both were to the ***** of love drawn.

Ideas were exchanged,
Thoughts expressed and treasured,
In time the
Two
Became
One.



©Rangzeb Hussain
Rangzeb Hussain May 2010
Lights dim,
Colour explodes,
For upon the stage there is magic
and in the orchestra pit there is music,
Young dancers robed in elegance
glide across the richly decorated stage,
And the night smiles by
with selection after selection
of sublime ballet confection,
The dancers dazzle and daze,
Their bodies hugging the music's enchanting embrace,
Upon their faces are the smiles of summer and golden radiance,
On their bare backs ripple muscles glowing with the sheen of sweat and glory,
Their breath comes in quick bursts as they fly through the air
and land as gently as a feather on the breath of a nightingale,
The girls are as bright as dawn's first light
and the men so supple and full of ecstatic zest,
These gifted artists were not from the snow-capped streets
of St. Petersburg
or from the steppes of the Bolshoi
nor were they from the giddy heights of the opera at Notre Dame de Paris
nor were they plucked from Covent Garden's glorious school of Royal Ballet,
No, it was none of those rigid and regimented corps de ballet,
For the vibrant and energetic dancers that mesmerised the audience
were living the pure joy of life,
These young men and women were from the poor villages and back streets of Cuba,
They brought the sun's warmth and delight,
They brought the lightning's energy and spark,
They brought the air of vitality and light,
They brought the moon's bewitching sophistication and surprise,
They brought the colour of life to their art,
This was a night of remembrance for the human soul,
What wondrous poetry in motion we can sprinkle and sparkle
if only we let our prejudices seep away,
Come, let go of the rat race sweat and pain,
Just ease back and let your mind be transported
to another time, another place, another type of magic,
Go enjoy a night at the ballet
and see human expression expressed through movement,
Witness tales of myth and wonder without a single word spoken,
One flick of the wrist
or the pointing of a finger
or even a tilted head
can say more and mean more than a hundred thousand spoken words,
Hearts full of love's deep lyrics told their tragic stories
through a mere touch or a caress,
Hearts were lacerated with a single swipe of a glance,
When two lover's shyly held hands and smiled
there was a thundering hush in the Hippodrome,
The lights changed from a cold blue to a pulsating red
and the orchestra showered the stage with glittering notes,
Drama, Music, Dance...

This

was

Theatre.




©Rangzeb Hussain
Rangzeb Hussain Apr 2010
Look here,
Come closer and look,
That's it...
Close your eyes,
No, please don't laugh,
I'm serious,
Right, now that your eyes are closed,
Look at the darkness,
Do you see the different shades?
It's amazing how one colour can be so diverse,
Imagine if we mixed the vibrant palette of the earth,
What a wondrous and magical rainbow we could create,
Come, let's go generate it...



©Rangzeb Hussain
Rangzeb Hussain Apr 2010
Go then! I in truth did trust and build,
It was never love, was it?
Far from those beloved shores we both did live
Even though I more than love did give.

"O, why did you hurt me so?
My life in shadows is now stormed and clawed,
I shall embrace the oceanic art of nature's
Mourning laughter."


And you?

Already you sail into the breezy arms of conceit,
Get drunk on freedom's beguiling waters of deceit,
I revealed all with this my liberated heart
But you tore apart my soul's timber before we could on love's trek embark.



©Rangzeb Hussain
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