I am not a poet,
But a poem,
Just trying to complete myself.
Or maybe,
-I am Completing myself..

she was the dance queen of the night
fragrant and exotic in her daily flight
from the bite of tropical night chills
under a starless sky and a pale moon
full of false vows that he would croon
with a granadilla fruit of raw passion
teasing his hungry eyes and keen nostrils
hot desire locked itself around their hearts
like a surreptitious granadilla creeper
entwining itself around a wooden lover
and soon the fruit of their passion had burst out
in a crescendo of dilated senses and smooth skin
she knew then that he was gone never to return:
the fabled passion fruit could be so very cloying

Just a thought

You remember me
I will remember you
Come to me walking
I will come to u running
Commit a sin ask forgiveness
I will forgive u
Such is the mercy of Allah
If the almighty can forgive
Us puppets made of clay and water
Who are we to hold grudges
Against each other
Love forgive forget

One world

Once upon a time
I used to feel safe
It was safe to play outside
To have fun
To be a child
Be free
Play until the street lamps came on
Or until mum called from the
Unlocked doors
But everywhere i look
I know
Our children now
Are not safe
They are being watched
They are feared
Shunned out
And hated
Simply for being
Muslim
For believing in a religion
That is different from
Their own
For being the wrong colour
For grandparents
Or parents coming
From the wrong country
Even schools
Watching to see
Which one they fear to be
A 4 year old terrorist in making
But i want to tell them this
We also bleed
Red - the colour of your blood
Red - the colour of mine
This world is for you
That world is for us
Remember theres only one world
And it is for all of us