Exposing the rose to the stars
I might say for a mirror
look at the sun.
But how can I give the moon
a demo of its fragrance?

What will you do, should you do
If you are led pass to fly
far from the sight at the twilight?
  
Slip into a tucked away serene sky
keeping your head held high
sway free by posy astro-ewers.
As you please pick and fill them  
with your so exquisite star-flowers!
Then you may well fancy reaching out
to the Moon bubbling on the edge of the night.

If you then swing back at the day peep
wake up listening the nightingale singing.
Now can you interpret what is it saying
or when all is in place something is missing?

Give me a clue.
Let me tell you the truth
no I won’t lie
but I don’t want to die.
  
I want to breathe in more  
I wonder how did it all
came to be in the first place
if it altogether can go away
just with a kiss of goodbye?

The thorns may have cut my hands off  
but not my will.  
It's mine whether to take the rose—  
yes or no!

Care and speak
Respect
Freedom of belief

A slice of the Moon flanked
by a pair of moonlights.
And a butterfly pair basks
in the sunlight.

You and me too,
we will rhyme and sing
simply in mother tongue.
In the good old original lingua
like ‘Adam speaks and all
Angels listen in paradise’.

I want and I want more,
don’t shut the door.
Forget the time is ticking,
one is growing old.

Tickled pink flowers
are still looking good.

Hunky-dory birds
on top of the trees
singing in choir so sweet.

Forget me not, send me a tweet
save it all in the planetary disc
every morning is new open
the door down the sunrise hill

None is unique like you are
A woman is open and secret
It makes a woman forever!

The home is under
           the leafy tree.
The graveyard too
         is not far to see!

What can tell my colour?
When I am inside
and when out
not in the heart?

You and I are one rhyme
together we dance
the ebb and flow of the life.
Every different colour
we got it covered.
The clouds are free to fly
down our sky
changing in as many
colours as they like!

The truth is
it can't be created.
It can only be found.

The man maybe the giant
Apt general Alexander the great
For a drink with the wobbly lady
Melting in love though he can
shun the sun-setting sweet ocean!

I wonder would one care to bend
Will she pour down her potion
If it weren’t first laid inborn?

For thy silent
       beauty rose
any word
        is not full!

The free-flying bird
always eyes on the high
looking for a new blue sky.
If only, can it ever own
a little twig on the tree?
On a tree when does it fly
the next mo it sways away!

Goodness is soul
see it sprinkles
across the board.
We can count on
every nook
and every angle.
With goodness
little and whole
there is God!

No pain no birth
but the mother
only showers love
to her newborn child.
God's love
for the creations
may not be a
spontaneous show.
Blossoms with food
for thought!

When I stood
before my mirror
I put my hand down
raised to touch the moon.
Still, I say it's beautiful!

God what have I done  
if anything at all
so kind of You!
At night I saw the dream
and at the noon
I got ticket to the Moon.

If I can say a word
or two to you under the sun
wait, o gorgeous butterfly.

Up in the high is blue sky
allis clear on your way
but one has lost the eye.

It happened last night
not in the dark
but down the full Moon
above a glowing firefly.

Every star was eying down
there was light on the ground.
So charming was the hairy dark
wrapped around a flame of light
burning, waving, raising high    
a pair of silent closed lips
that besides the passionate sky
had the earth too hooked by.

Up and down was enticed
musing on the magic
what did it swallow down!
Will you blame me then
if at the first sight
of it lose my eye?

In between
the sky and earth
there is always
a Moon gap.
In giving is Love!

There is light
at the end
of the night.
And the future
is not far
it's in the heart!

The show is poetry in motion
even on the black canvas of the night
it remains a live showdown the stars
one that's hardly dark in the dark.

The fireflies fly through
highlighting in silver lines
that could barely shed new light
amid the spectator stars
eye on upon it from the far.

The sea in black in the night
billows with full of ink
only to wish to ink a beauty spot
above its forehead on a shining Moon-dew.

Looking down on it from the stars
the sea in black is bedewed with moonlight.
It’s not that there is no red no purple no colour
it's the garden of every morning's new sun
in bloom in the shady bud of the night.

The celebrity star shows up
hardly anything lurks in
not much to see inside
all that there is is out!

Then there are some
unknown, unseen ones.
For them inside the day
there is also a night.
Therein the Moon roams
wanes and waxes
beneath the silver lined stars.

Then there is a sea too
down at the bottom line
reflecting all crystal clear
the galaxies up high.
Their solemn lullabies
keep them awake all night!

There it goes for a deep dive
nothing can stop the punter
it's the everyday story of our sun!

May be forget the mouth
But how can I deny the heart?

I Love
not for
what's in store.

Rose or thorn-
it's your choice.

Ah, sleek moonlight, velvety soft,
Unfurls the path to the Taraweeh Mosque.
Countless fireflies, on fine silken wings,
Catch fast in the silver weave of lunar groves.
Soon, the first Ramadan crescent blooms above,
While the silent tuberose lingers, imprinting deeper still.
Oof—how many did I embrace? One or two?
Myriads light the way to the Taraweeh Mosque.

It was only the other night—
The first crescent of Ramadan shimmered,
Piercing the flawless forehead of twilight,
In the hush of the fading dusk.
Even now, across the half-lit horizon,
Sleepless full-moon stars drift,
While the first, blessed crescent of Ramadan
Moves on in seamless procession.

When will the celebration reach its full bloom?
Today marks the fourteenth fast,
Already shining upon the fourteenth moon!

Learning to love
the moon in the dark.
Make no mistake no touch!

Throw anything around us  
either way as you please.
But not even a single grain of salt
us all stuck in a single wound.
  
What we want is not more than one
Our eyes don't blink just watch.
Any how any way  
east, west, south, north is fine.
Goodness knows
we all got caught
just for one single reason.
Just the one, that's all.

Let alone a banyan tree,
A branch is much bigger than me.
I am not big.

The sun seems like a palette of colour.
As I see the big print,
It amazes me even more.
Colour drifts, painting sweet spots,
Shedding hardly any space at all—
Only a hand’s palm size, that’s all,
For its spectacular masterstroke: a rose!

The earth on the go
leaves a dew
on a so polished petals
as if that's never
been touched before.
If the dew rolls down
the sea dance in billows.

The moon too ambles down
but only to tread on the edge.
No star ever saw
it touched the lofty sea on the go!

Kings and emperors
wanted just a sip once for all.
Albeit not even Alexander the Great
could hand on a nectar is yet to pop
an uncharted water drop.

The sun first thing in the morning
tends to align towards it.
The nightingales hops on the rose
a new day breakouts in rays of gold.

When the arts of the day is done
'it's not' still a black canvas remains
on the pick of the twilight
the Moon gives the first pose
to the countless stars!

And that punters cloud somewhere
above the earth and down the sky
pours down singing
the deep song of the sea day and night.

Yet an uncharted but ever on
stands on tangent water drop
neither withers in the rays of sun  
nor due to the gravity pulls down!

I wanted to reach out to the sky
Not to touch any star
Just to whisper to the Moon
How beautiful is you!

I was still stunned on the ground
Wandering down the sunrise hill
Amidst the flowing morning breeze
I heard of a whispering
‘The eyes above gaze on the ground’
So close to me it drew
As if murmuring tell me about you!

One half is Earth
the other half is the sky.
The sun zooms  
into one half-hole,
rosy dew, serene cool.  
The sea breaks and pops
the other half is always full.

Night falls in a blink of the Moon
the sunrise paints and unfolds
over the first glimpse of the blue ocean
only to blackout at twilight soon.
Again resumes in the open circle
in the deepening depth of the pi.
Counting numerous decimal-stars
between the half Earth, half sky
the cut to short half way is still a far cry.

A precise half is true
is well counted half of the full.
The true value of the pi so
Someone is in the know!

I will keep the rose where it rose
you can see, in your mirror.

I wish I could pave it out
the most polished path.
Nothing new though
just like the flower blossoms
freely living in fine flow!

The first light upon
the rose shines out
moments of lightbulbs
on the midday canvas.
Hummingbirds sing after
the buzz from the other worlds
fly all the way over the rainbow
lo they pick up the leaning sky
only to rebound back to
the green grove rose on the soil.
My only wish then
with me, I have your mirror!

If I can I will pour all these in it,
velvety polished like the time
carrying all in all but make no show
for the only show is your mirror!

Target is clear
be something
when the time is up!

What I do
   I can't do
       Without you.

We will laugh out
and meet again
under the same cloud.

With the rays of gold
when the sun fills the leaves
together we will walk again
down the trees
and on the streets.
Without the fear
of catching a virus.

Not long from now
we will pop out
down the low hanging sky
holding a blue lotus
before the world
again a blossoming flower!

She is the unseen world
within the world
at best imagine her!

It's simple
to tell the big truth.
But difficult
for the crowd
to take it as simple.

When do you know
you're growing wise?
When you feel
you know far less.

The singing rain
touch down
on the ground.

The sun swims down
eyes on the river dance
rhyming with the water
the sea is never far.

The light of heaven
keeps hanging low.
Bestows on the dust
some shimmering
rays of gold.
For its wishes
just has one more:
When the rain is done
and the rose is out
sipping in the last drop.
Beneath that it will
step in its best foot
with all the sky blue.

The sun is rolling down
Oops on the halfway
down the sky
it takes a pause.
The run in the water
is never gone.
Off the neigh null
of the last raindrop
flowers a rainbow!

Deep down the core
the giant earth
is caught in a dew!

Let alone the billowy
seven seas give
the stunned earth a push.
The full geometric spread
of the solar world, it can pull!

Yet to catch up with the run
in the water drop in its core!!

How can I say
I saw you
What sees through
Your beautiful eyes
Know not that science.

Looking for God
but can't find the truth.
Look for your soul
can you see it at all?

When the pain is no more
the mortal world will be gone!

Pi, at the end of its endless decimals' grandeur,
meets a human being—who holds a mirror!
Until now, the number, knowing only sway,
has been lost in discovery’s polished way.
No more: it begins—on a human—in front of its eye.

Patterns and unique precision, patternless waves,
new math tides soar, pivot at the cosmos' height,
only to bag the ultimate truth:
Fathima—the first spiritual woman—mooned there first!

Fathima steps forward where nature falls behind,
across the dead end, the irrational chasm she strides.
For the cosmos' deep mind, Earth, the ocean is but a drop;
the rope to the top is the lead—the feminine Fathima’s lock!

Raw Fathima moves; in shadow, nature follows,
clustering atoms span between the two,
only to witness her encrypted, secured fashion—
intact, uncharted, yet fully functioning,
in Makkah and Medina, while she lived.

The red fairies at midday’s spot-on,
the black swans arching rainbows in wonder—
marvel how Fathima deduces, straw by straw,
the maestros’ dream of ascension,
potion-polished, taking Ma pauses in liminal crescendos,
between past and future, here and hereafter—a circular duo.
Limning out chiaroscuro in light and shadow—
nothing like it exists, in plain sight or the world in toto!

Rainbows shaded in, sparking out,
the scent of roses in her veiled black hair:
the cosmos anew glinting off her edge,
deeper quintessence than dark matter!

The blueprint, the intelligent pre-design, rests in her elements.
The breakthrough exponent—hidden in her eyes.
Yet beyond the masses’ gaze,
she remains Zahra—light upon the original way.

Truly, only one feminine form has reached across
the other end of the cosmos' endless highway,
zooming past nature’s hidden gems—the irrational Pi,
the complex chasm—a mathematical goldmine.

Beyond the masses’ eyes and their painted canvases,
shine the daylight and the glowing fireflies of the night.
Viva Mankind! Fathima is the Moon at the highest high!

Rose or thorn
choice is yours
from me is only
    LOVE.

The inevitable death,
once, only momentarily, dies—
just for a pause,
like a blink in open eyes—
then passes this
whooping, precious,
deathless garland
over to her.

Just in one single sip,
you drank it in—
that painstakingly unique,
imperishable elixir of being.

The timeless time sprawls,
spotless and fine,
across the ages—
echoing through undying rhymes,
tuned into countless tunes
on this deathless-dead skeleton
that breathes, that hums:

"Alhamdulillahi Rabbil Aalameen."

The note before the sun sings,
in the Night of Creations—
within, and without.
Translation...
is never enough.

The nexus of time
burst across the ages.
The dew left the rose—
not to fall,
but to stir
the ocean’s deep heart.
Credible, nature!

The blue peahen of the sky
scurries down
into that innermost drop—
it flows in the soul,
in a thousand and one rhythms,
in the swell of song,
a perfect, complete drop.
As if sound itself remembered its beginning—
The melody-nymph,
in the orchestra of the sea,
lifts the flute to her lips.
Oh, that first music—
mind-blowingly perfect.

There — in that single drop —
floats the sea,
floats the full moon.
A blue lotus shadow
rests on the ocean’s deepest floor.

Clothed in blue upon blue,
sky-hued —
forever shading the air.
Her panache, midstream,
remains out of reach.

Who could ever touch
that forever peerless ******,
that numinous, untouchable water-nymph?

Into the vast,
sea-wide goblet
of Tahura’s wine,
all the thirsty warriors
drowned deep.
Even time took a deep breath of Ma,
knowing not what was coming.
Then you arrived — wondrous Shaaqi,
from the far side of the eternal shore.

Measured for just one sip,
Your Highness—
you poured it, indeed:
all that is death,
made immortal sweet.

Start to finish,
all in all,
everything came
to soothe the eyes —
even the grave-dirt
was placed in your hands.
A single fistful of loosened soil…
You became life
to this death-struck soul,
yet never did you let it slip
into life’s final flow.

How can I ever forget you —
in life?
Or in death?

There are roses.
A sniff of that—
turns the trees into sharp thorns.
Sit still.
Secured. Guarded.

Then there is a Tree,
meticulously crafted,
big-footing from the deepest deep—
not only skin deep
but the beauty is on—
deep-bone skeleton.
The pixels on the upper layer stay clear,
and perfect balance holds below, through every layer.

A day fades from the rose,
dimmed—even at soothing eve.
Not quite.
It walks in chiaroscuro,
through shades of tangerine,
slipping into the thick of night—
never growing thin—
until it catches the set sun hiding,
eyeing the new moon’s skin.

It stands,
ready for bold conversation,
as the stars emerge,
whispering
through the seven skies.

Wide-eyed death—
inevitable—
rushes in
on beauty’s stake.
But how long did it last?

Before the blink of an eye,
the tree was back in bloom.

In watching galaxies—top of mind—
it grows again,
quietly,
on the sublunary Earth.

Math of the matter
couldn’t be closer,
nor farther—yet it is,
as surely as cumulative math,
with countless truths under the skin,
unfound until the equation fits.
It can appear with precision,
or stay hidden from sight—
under the sun, or the moon, alike.

Sharpest sharp cuts: linear.
Deepest deep, yet curves—
smoothest golden spirals.

The solid full-stop dot
in Ma spaces
springs the sweetest—  
a panache showcase
that conquers height
and endures time.  

A sniff of it stirs the water—
boundless,
no sea, no ocean, no river,
just flow, forever.
It bumps into paradise above—  
roots stretching,
never ceasing.
Deep down, it rocks the pearls,
up high melts the clouds,
rains soft on the glass—
which breaks
into pieces of a star.

Breaks open wide—yet no angle.
Deep down, it never fractures.
Every line, on every lane,
curves inward
to its digital bedrock:
non-linear, vibrating numbers.

Day in, day out—
no ending at the end.  
A topological fold
opens and rewraps.

There is a tree:
overhead and on the ground.
Keep an open eye—  
it keeps up!