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shaqila Apr 2014
I browse the poems on Hello Poetry
and chance upon yours,
It shakes me to my core,
Like it was written by me, for me.

My thoughts you spread out on display,
My miseries, you named them.
How did you know?
How could you have known?
The blood shed was wiped clean,
The bruises, camouflaged accordingly.

But here, staring at me,
were details of my life,
Penned by a seemingly unknowing entity.

Inclined to turn away,
I quickly close the page,
Goodbye Poet,
Goodbye Poetry!
© shaqila
4172014
shaqila Apr 2014
It’s always Monday here with the hustle and bustle of the boisterous marketplace,
Negotiations carried out over loudspeakers and hailers,
It’s never without a fight.
It’s always Monday here with the cries of half-dead swans and suffocating dolphins,
Collateral damage is a word used loosely,
Now that the main guy is here.

Last night was a good night, befitting a Sunday’s catch,
Rest is only for the lost and lonely on a lovely Sunday night.
They brought them in, lined up in rows of ten,
Nothing on but a white singlet and pretty underpants.
They cowered in fright and tried to huddle,
The whips flew as freely as the flies that came to meddle.

It was not long till your turn came
Pretty as a rosebud
One man claimed
Smooth as a rose’s petal
Another one gleamed.

It was all too real for you and you fell dead, in silence
It’s always Monday here, someone said,
She was so pretty...
As they carried you on their back
to dump you in the truck
to throw away the body
just outside the city.

It’s always Monday here, said the man shaking his head,
as he went to the playground to fish
for another haul of fresh blood and good meat!

It’s always Monday here...
Someone said...
© shaqila
4172014
shaqila Apr 2014
Poet by night, body embalmer by day,
Sealing the wounds,
Pulling the skin behind the ear, just so,
Perfect; nipped and tucked just right.

Poet by night,
Your vocation, I envy not,
When toes are tagged,
and you take over,
Masterpieces are created,
Each a wonder.

You stand back and stare
At your work divine
Master craftsman at work
“Please do not disturb!”

Still only a poet by night,
By and large, a creator by day!
shaqila Apr 2014
"You think you know me,
Think again,
I Am waiting."
shaqila Apr 2014
I want to be the one who silences your demons
I want to be the pain that spurs you to run with the wind
I want to be the love and light you ask in your darkened dreams
I want to be the hushed voice in your head amidst screams of nothingness
I want to be the gentle wind that moves you to goosebumps
I want to be the feathery touch at dawn as you rise
I want to be the whispers of the moon and the anguish screams of the thunderstorm
I want to be the sweet nectar of heaven and the devilish sting of hell
I want to be the cawing crow that awakes you
I want to be the gentle nudge that calls your attention
I want to be all that and more
Are you ready?
Give me fierce fiery hell or banish me to heaven
Give me all or nothing
don't give me half hearts and lukewarms
I'll spit you out and have the dragons trample you
Give me you or give me nothing
I'm here wanting and waiting
Are you ready?
shaqila Mar 2014
First it was #PRAY4MH370
which swiftly changed to #RIPMH370
and now it's transformed to #REMEMBERINGMH370

Two weeks of unrealized hope
dashed one late evening by some satellite scope
Only to be faced with the deep blue ocean
and possibility of confirmation

That dear ones lie in some ocean bed
Perhaps forever trapped, it was tragically said
Technology so advance, that can find a particle in an atom
and a black hole in the universal chasm

Yet mystified that none can locate the so-called plane crash site proper!
*cue - Twilight Zone music
shaqila Mar 2014
Daddy, you said, 'I'll see you soon",
Soon is here but you're not.

"Keep this for me, I'll be back soon",
You did not come back.

"I'll go one last time. It'll be alright",
You didn't return and it's not alright.

"I can't believe, am finally going home",
You didn't realize it was your final home.

"It was a good trip but too short. Next time, I'll stay longer",
There is no next time now.

Final or infinite
Appearing really disappearing
Many stories, many tales spun
You're still gone and I'm all alone...

*All right, Good Night!" were your final words
Nothing's right, and
nothing's good about the dark of the night that still persists.
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