Mortal earth is a shadow
nothing lasts here evermore.
The inside is a complete hollow.
Everyone takes a turn sway not
360-degree it’s a flute!

She is so pretty like
blooming sunrise.
Her beauty
in her shadow
is burning fire.

It broke through the black box
shining down the sky
the first light touched
the bottom of the night!

Yet the sun sets, flies away.
Didn’t it catch the black swan night?

Above me is the wide blue sky
beneath my feet is a patch
of land sprawling far way.

Oh ask me not which direction
am I going this or that way?

East, west the north or the south?
The little bumblebee before
my eyes is flying every way!

The sun was so close to
the fingertips of the earth mother
while the rose bloomed so bright
the first morning the sun rose on the earth.
The sun spaced up high up to the blue sky
so the colour of the rose may not wither.

The mother Fathima smiled even brighter
upon the rose, the sun draws back every sunrise
is ever closer till to date a colour never withers!

The evening star
at the sunset of Ramadan.
Mistake it not for a stellar
maybe an embroidery fell down
from the broidery in paradise!
What crosses in your mind, dear
fondly you look back
at this nick of time?

The twilight ambles down
with moonflowers on the hands
is about to wrap up
one more blessed day of Ramadan.
What have you come up with then
for the fasting person on your hand?
What a broad array
you stole the last show of the day!

Singing nightingales keeps musing
deeps down the rose in low light.
The first light shines out
amidst the dawn chorus.
What does it miss out
the nightingales disappears
in broad daylight.

Have you too leave the scene
with the rose dews
only to pour it off the honeyed petals
into the fasting person's glass?    
So cool it tastes a sip of water
at the Iftar!

Adam touches down
in heaven upon the high.
But his highwater mark
wasn’t solely one way.

He could hear the jingle
upon the high resonates
beneath the ground!

He could see the cloud
forms on the top
and rains down to the ground.

Bow down on the earth
and rise high.
Lo, the golden spiral too,
curves downward
before spiking high up.

Rolling out from blue lotus
off the sky
nymphs in tangerine bright
all colours
tuck into disappearing
rainbow slides.
Ah, fragrance
of the broad daylight
a day in summery August
is still heady
weaving blue butterflies!

Who’s eyeing up is lurking deep.
Every star looks down,
wants to drop in it and swim
deep down the burrowed stream,
that deathless ab-e-hayath
every king wants to drink.

A drop can
make a sea.
Like a world
a little eye can see.

Never shows the hand
but gives a rose.
Leaves up to you
with your views
with your thoughts!

When that's hand skin
shows up at night
it blooms into the first light.
When that leaves on the day
it reaches out to the stars
from the stairs of twilight!
Day in and day out
a footprint is unfound!

Is it gone slipped out of the net
the time is on the fly?
Bask in the shadow is not too far,
take a walk down the sun.

Let the firesome stands tall
up the mountain of its colour splendour.
The bumble bees know there are
more on the edges of the spectral.
The moon only dips in the black earth
and scoops a black mole for every star!

The giant beauty in the night is more
it does a matter what a wee hour you eye on!  
Scientists say the star vanishes in the black hole
maybe it doesn’t want to come off the locks
but how did Alexander the Great sniff out
there was elixir on the other side of the pool?

A thought crosses my mind as if a moonlight
passes a sleeping one that promptly wakes up
and feels like showering in the moonlight
the sky isn't big nor the stars are far
but the planet earth by sea is bigger.
Every star loves to slide into the sea in the moonlight
perhaps the glowing moon on its forehead did it first!
Squeezed earth breaks out where it apparently ends
more is in the zero-circle, pi is transcended!
Let's taste, he sets out for the end of the globe.
on the way he goes, walks in chiaroscuro
down the moving planets in light and shadow.

If the seven seas splash out in a lofty billow
sets out on the cloud for the blue sky he won’t stop
because the empty cup is refilled there is a elixir drop!  

Up high the star in the black holes delights in locks
deep down the earth the moon delves in a black mole.
All is dark matter the light is over the burnt Mt.Sinai
the only cool rose Moses down the fire is in an elixir dew,
the watermark, from the untouchable a touching cue.
The secret sauce of life just a glance turns the sun to brew
the whole stars mirroring sea in the night slides into a dew!

Alexander of Macedonia this time
won’t U-turn from the might Gangaridai.
At the bubbling edge in the Indian subcontinent,
one would dare, taking his last plunge,
believing it here the proverbial Well of Life!

Yet Al Khwarizmi will discover the algebra,
drawing from ‘nothing,’ purely untouchable:
The Zero from the Indian pole.
Not a digit, not a number on its own, yet it’s all.
Every number jumps up in the zero loophole!
Then the whole number bows down into decimals,
escalating the hunts of the 1.618 golden ratios.

Plough through at your own pace
for the uncharted water, for ab-e-hayath.
Sip in a drop of elixir in this secured zone.
Sylhet is in the core, is written in stone.

What do these mean? I too wonder
down the line, I was intrigued by the Arab
and Indian tectonic plates’ slow dance.
Both rolled out, hugging each other
Then the Makkan soil lying at the heart of earth
gets exposed, with Sylhet’s soil it pairs up!
360 Sufi dynamos, mathematically a perfect circle,
find the match giving a perfect heads up
laid on the nine yard show the whole box of wax,
simply inking the vivo jump on the storylines.

What’s under the tectonic-rug at the bottom of the earth?
Shush softly, whisper—the heavens might hear it out!
Hold on to the least bit, it could be all one wants.
The earth, the ocean, all started with a drop of water!
Let alone any well, which way did this original matter,
the first, primeval drop of water stream down
Has this alleyway been exposed here, or in Paradise?
Then how can we say we don't have a secret for Paradise?

Zindagi ki piyala itna borha nahi hai
ki uski andor me lehron ki mujhme
nodia beh sakta hai.
Likhen uski andorme ek bindu
pani bi nahi itna chota
ki isme sagor bon nahi sakta.

Koi yaro achanok milta hai to bolta
kitna chota hai ye donia
Ye mitti andorme bi kya borha?
Khodo to isme kobor bonta hai
Liken agor Mawla chahe to ye
mitti se bi Adam bon sakta hai.

Somundor to somundar
shabnam (dew) bi Subhan Allah!
Aaj kaha aj reh ta hai kal ** jata
Kal ko kisi ko kiya pa tha
Thalu aftab (sunrise) ki canvusme
Ankhi dal kor job sham dol jata hai
Kisi Ko zulf ke saye me bemalum
Kitne ankhi khu ja ta hai
Kis andaar goliche chad aa ta hai
Kiso ki kiya pa tha hai
Liken mera bhi kitna khush naseeb hai
Khali hate aakor bi itni kimti herat angaiz
(amazing) majlish me ek hishya bhi mila.
Mawla karega keyse Aap ka shukrana
Alhamdulillah kiyanat ki Rab taarif Aap ka, Aap ka!

Don't get lost in the starry sky
alight at the Moon for countless stars!

It's far
far beyond
I can ever reach.
But the sun is shining
up in the sky.
How can I ever say
it's mine.

Hand on heart
but how can I deny
Indeed there is one.
Even far from so far
shows me a light!

Destined to go away.
But an early exit  
is not welcome either.

It has to be on time.
But it can't be found
beforehand either  
in the solar or lunar calendar!
However it's definitely
on it is crystal clear.

It's a much sweeter today
than yesterday indeed.
Radiant meadows are on fire
beneath the trees
indulging blue fairies'
summer bowl of sun shines
abundantly overflowing
lavishly enough to render in
every rose of humming bees.

Pop up to flowers and bouquets
maybe the song on the birds' lips:
Time is today to jump in
on a London summer clement scene!

The Sahara seeing me
sigh in the desert
asked me why I cry?
I am left alone, I replied.

'I see, but you got tear,'
it hissed out.
I said, perhaps like me
first, you had an wet eye,
now is all dry!

Dove off the deep river
it has been a long while now.
Chirping eerily beautiful
anthem of evening the bird flock                          
back to the nests picked their ways
Still, I am in apparently shallow desert.

Nope, I am not lost counting
the low hanging stars but
no longer feeling lonely in the desert.
The moon over the dunes draws closer
I happened to witness then like the star
for heaven, why no one needs a ladder!

God may have promised
no one always a blue sky.
Explore more He opens
the door other ways!
For there is always
a new sunrise.

Big, into this
big awesome world
is there a little hole?
For a man to
hide a teardrop?

Just inches below the ground
but must be behind the sight
sow the seed for a tree in return.

Deepening down the bottom of the sea
nor lying on the ground dropping off the sky
merely dipping into some foots long body  
the soul springs a life.

Take it on the run then should the sky
or earth bends giving a flatten lid.
Even then can it prevent
the soul when rebounds with a life indeed?

An inside scoop, a math, never surfaces
neither in sky nor on Earth, a measured deep,  
always behind the eyes but life maker indeed.

If all it takes
just a kiss of death
to be gone
for good forever.
I wonder how
a life becomes
'so worthy'
to live it
in the first place?

The truth is
all present times
span out to the future
to realise the potential
of a newly born one!

How could dead death
can take it all in one ******?
Or it just dumbs down
on the surface digging
deep into the diverse layers
of the grand design of a life?

The silent moon
over the old pond
perhaps lost for words.
If only it could
describe the charm
mirroring a mirror
of ancient calm!

I am not asking
for an acre of Moon.
Spare me a digit gap
if you could.

Dancing the swelled
waves of the deep,
swimming clouds
leap out to reach
over the sunny sky.

Blow out a cool kiss
on the bank of the
blue Ganges of the skies.
The lips that kiss the bottomline
play the flute.
Listen, singing chorus rains down,
bouncing back to earth
the only open-through planet!

Mirror, mirror
the time is on the go
is on the fly it won't stop.

It will whisk over
my dead body for sure.

But can it reach
out to my soul?

A drop of beauty spot
a black mole
or a cool shady sketch
on the golden brow
of a sunny day.
The evening is always
welcome at the end.

The night from off site
pops on her way
however pitch dark
weaving even more black
across that kohl-pollen
embroidery
a sky full of stars
will keep an open eye!

A love buried in the depth of the earth
skipping the grave that can be lit up
and the bottom of the sea
water billows out of this abyss
netting the eyeballs of the sky.
Then the bottom of the night
was skipped likewise.

Taring the shades of black
there the moon rolls out
in the enchanting half-light.
So it had to be tucked away
only at the bottom of the earth.

Everything the all-inclusive pi  
could pop up from that safe womb there
that carries the weight of the matters  
but never shows up an equating pattern!

The nightingale scurries to the red rose
bubbling on the morning tessera
as if it mined out the treasure of the earth!
Oh it doesn't seem to be the only one scorer
upon the rose a mirror is up in the sky
‘Love’ is in the eyes of the sun!

On the day
or in the night.
In the dark or
in the light
black or white.

Whatever.
whichever way.

You got a choice
how you look.
On the flip side
or the other side,
any side of the coin.
Down the sun
or down the Moon!

Bring me my palette board.
Bring me my paintbrush.
Look wide open, ask me not
if it’s full or a half glass.
The sea is babbling high,
The clouds swimming on the go.
Reach out to the sky!

Be quick, before a raindrop
spills off the rainbow bowl,
stirs the dew on the rosebud
at first sight of the
spring blooming fast.

So what if the sky won't
lend a blue patch away,
catch that close by,
slips through the fingers:
a pair of butterflies.
Does it matter if you say yes or no?
A piece of heaven is on earth!

Sometimes
a word or two
tells it all.
Sometimes
it doesn't at all!

Sometimes a wispy
cloud marks
the colossal lofty sky!
Sometimes the sun
hides behind a
splash of cloud.

Joy or grief
knows no time  
can get it in no time:
A sigh or a breath
of fresh air.
A poem is the last spare!

True, the sugar tops
sweeten everyone's mouth.
Hold onto the salt though
let's not lose out.

Pinches of sea salt
    dancing smash hit
deep down the sea floor
   ace extracting ice cores,
boom, the clouds form high,
show the upside is sky!
    
Jubilant cumulus pop
only crystal clear vibes 
let the wind see through
that sings the rhymes.

Oops, it's not always a blue sky
wispy white clouds turn dark.
The storm soars the larks fly low
busy men down the trees
seek refugee for a mo.

Sticking my head under a roof
pondering me find a room.
Is this 'smash hit high sail
of the clouds rising from deep core,
all is gone in a blink of a storm'.

Not far in the sky
nor deep down the sea.
I see a raindrop on a shining
flower before me.
Something more to tell
very closely!

Every day is new
the age-old sun
mints in sniffing
a blossoming fragrance
off nothing just off
the soil, a pure earth!

Deep inside of this
hallowed turf is a
a perfumed earth:
A rose in the heart!

A night owl in the harvest moon
was awake till the crack of the dawn
but wasn’t surfing online, wasn’t rowing
the boat in the digital river.
Deep down to a dreamweaving scene
that was, in musing, painstakingly creative.

Wait till you snap up a witty aphorism.
The darling buds of May will be in bloom.
The tickled pink nightingale too will
give out its voice, singing a song.
Save a copy and tweet it to all,
but do give us a demo, tell us a bit more.
Where does it shine and sizzle?
Where did the winter tuck away the rose?

The moon sparks the stars
in the depth of the dark
and mesmeric cool walks the walk.

Everyone else maybe then was in sleep
the nightingale goes out and sings.
The sun touches down the rose in the morning
unleashes the blue sky in the broad daylight
a canvas for everyone, draw your mind.

Forget the twilight is not a finishing line
at the end of the day, there is still a searchlight
right on the horizon an ode to the evening star
a choreographed popup - the moon is on the way!
Again art in silence - Taj Mahal flower in stone
the beauty subtlety is beauteous
and a mesmerised parrot lost for the word!

On my way into  
the chamber of the rose
I saw there was no rose
a thorn is on the door!

Slash it cut it bin it off
I did these all
only to grow many more!

I took a chance
without drawing close
with a pinch of salt
I played a creative stroke.

Ah did I rub the Aladdin’s lamp
now it seems to talk?
Fostering an array of whispers
we tend to build a bubble.
Only to realise I am
still outside at the door!
Mediating with the thorn
yet to art over to the rose.

There is a sun
shining cool
hanging low
and beneath it
is a smiling rose.

Between the two
which one are you?

Will the star
show up on my way?
Take a shot in the dark
I can't promise
to the firefly.

The moon will
morph to the sea
in the dark
swing and sway.

The robin doesn't need
to sing to the tuberose
that doesn't delay
blossoms on the way!

I took a sip from your cup
a drop of your signature potion.
Oh, you know what?
Just one is enough.
Leave a drop for the bees.
Let the honeycomb build and melt
in this sea of sweet magic!
The rest is yours as you please.

The ancient rose
still dips in a still dew
it will not dry.
The seven seas sway
rock on the way!

It may be only
a little pearl.
But someone
reached out to it
peeping in the giant sea.

The Hebrew King David sings it once
everyone tunes in as if he stopped the time
it's a song sang in every mother tongue!

It's a sea of tunes flows on the shore of the body
outpours and dances fashioning in both science and art
waxes through every vein and reaches out to the heart.

Folks love to take a dip in this same mellifluent cloud
but it's as varied as all the different mother tongues,
the one rhymes with all floats across the world.
Over all the different rivers that may zigzag
It knows the way because from the ocean they all come.

Eying on the stars
Look too far.
I wonder though no
they didn't whisper.
Maybe they know
the straight skinny better.
Why everyone craves
'Swiming in the moonlight
ambling by the river'!

I wished to see my beloved
living in my heart.
When she appeared
for the first time, her radiance,
her light dazzled my eyes!

But so clear I can see her eye  
in the corner of it is a tear.
Days, months, years passed by
like it did then till now her eyes
whisper in every single word!

Speaks in the words in my alphabet
and in the words that are her
I am yet to know that makes me wonder!

I was listening to a poet
reciting his poem “Times”.
He was pondering, could
it be like this and that?
Suddenly my cup of tea
happened to taste so sweet,
made me wonder why
wasn’t it such an edgy,
a while ago any time
before now just as tasty.

Where on a stony thorn
was it stuck this long?
It had to bloom just now,
so sweet a rose!  
No one predicted whether it
will rain or not, it just drops.
The sun, shedding clouds,
suddenly swims so low!

Pondering me, I could
then only digest it
accepting a truth:
It doesn’t matter when
the bees love to come out,
sit on the rose and fly.
For the time, its best bard
only sings on time!

There was left a gap
that the heaven
did not touch.

The arch codebreaker
hacked in only to find
it's on the face of the earth.
That did the art.

The gap the Golden Cut
is above the rest
is neither in the heaven
nor is here on earth!
Where is it tucked away?

If only one can tell
it's still a ******
still a pure blank.