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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

///
If I may not be wrong
even it is true
that everything is not for me at all
but when sometimes Camellia called me
I felt all loves were for me
and I thought
me for love
love for mine
and it grew my dream

If I may not be wrong
even it is true
that every Autumn will not be
played with my wish
when truly I felt that the Rose never withered
but it grew gray
and my dreams went away

If I may not be wrong
even it is true
that every hope will not be
staying tuned forever
In my springtime when kite flew in the blue sky
and it felt me as the bird's feather
the sky turned colored
it grew in my dream again

If I may not be wrong
even it is true
that every love is a real love
and when you told me that
you will be with me forever
the red Roses bloomed everywhere
it grew in my dream again
but when you went away
I felt that I was standing alone on the shore
my dreams flew away

If I may not be wrong
but again, when I felt the mild breeze blowing
two birds were singing together
and loving each other
the Spring sprung,
again I heard your voice on the shore
and you told me,
you would not be alive without leaving mine
and again, love grew in my dream

///
@Musfiq us shaleheen

432

Do People moulder equally,
They bury, in the Grave?
I do believe a Species
As positively live

As I, who testify it
Deny that I—am dead—
And fill my Lungs, for Witness—
From Tanks—above my Head—

I say to you, said Jesus—
That there be standing here—
A Sort, that shall not taste of Death—
If Jesus was sincere—

I need no further Argue—
That statement of the Lord
Is not a controvertible—
He told me, Death was dead—

Friend of mine,
Distant and between us
is death and time.
To you I sincerely write,
Let us meet once again
In another life.

Showing to me
What it means to be
A bona fide friend.
Showing a shoulder
Always one to depend.
Of this letter I send,
To you I hope it shall ascend.

Burn it with prayer
To travel through the realms
and traverse the air!
Breakthrough to heaven's lair,
Hoping one day I will meet you there.

One last time I wish to say
What was missed and left out that day.
Twas that you had an exceptional mind,
Your heart was spread and unconditionally kind.
So sadly caught was I, and to this I was blind.

So signed here is what was missed
Pinned with tears was this to your bier
Wishing and emotional that you were here..

You may not have been birthed in the soil,
and granted,
you will not blossom
when spring melts winters wake
but inside of you
grows a thousand gardens
full of exploding stars.
You are of the earth
and your ashes
have been constructed with stardust,
and set free with the wind.
So you may not have a pretty face,
and your body may hold stories
of too many moonless nights alone.
But if you reach inside,
you will find a forest
for a ribcage
and a restless ocean heart.
So don't ever let anyone tell you
you are nothing.
You are a galaxy
holding a million different planets,
and my dear,
that is not nothing.

I just wanted you to know I understand. I remember you so many years ago; your strength, your abilities. I remember you standing in front of the mirror while mom braided your hair. I knew you weren't vain when you looked in the mirror. I wish she hadn't made you feel that way. I remember why you turned silent and hid. I know why you isolated. I am so sorry you felt badly about yourself. You had a beautiful imagination! ...you still do. You were a dreamer and no, they could not understand you,... but you knew you. Sometimes I get frustrated when I remember your gullibility.  So many people took advantage of you, that was a scary time. I'm glad those days are gone. I'm glad you made it through and you grew, you did not let that define you. The worst is behind you now, lift up your chin and smile. I wish I could take care of you.

let my spirit enliven today
let it come out of the dark
let it feel light and gay
and have that lively spark

let my spirit awaken today
let it forget the past and all that is wasteful
let it neither think of future in dismay
and learn to make its present purely beautiful.