I do not like it here
I do not like what we have.

Take the shovel,
here.

Pigeon-toed,
austere.

Dig deep in the earth,
big capable man.

Plunge through that dirt
until you reach the other side.

I'm
restless
as desert dust

the steps on me,
heavy.

Plant in me
the rose

and garden
the romance.

Won't you
resuscitate
the dear
in my tongue

tighten
the clutch
of these arms

soften
this face,
unalarmed

out of its casket
into a smile...

Take the shovel,
here.

You’ve been cold too.
Your body is quivering

so
dig
through
that
dirt

Dig deep in the earth,
big capable man.

Bring us both back
the last breathing rose.

But the man with the shovel
never came back...

However
I did hear he reached the other side.

When I was young I yearned to be a hero
To feel the adulation of the crowd
To feel the damsel in distress pressed against my chest
Tearfully expressing her wonderlove into my shoulder

But with age came understanding
Understanding that a yearning hero needs a villain
A single minded evil that pursues the hero
Obsessed with his demise at any and all cost

So to wish to be a hero
Is to wish for evil
And for the distress of the damsel
To burden her with the obligation of gratitude

This is the reality of all yearning heroes
All my childhood heroes carry this sin
I unknowingly worshiped at the alter of greed
The greed of a needy soul

With age comes understanding
Understanding that true heroes are so only in retrospect
A true hero is surprised by their deeds
Pulled to the job by forces unseen
left shaking by the deed
yearning only to slip back into obscurity
This is the true hero

what if the lion made love
to the sheep?
or was the sheep too weak
to love and let love and let wear and let hold—
or just strong enough? I can’t
remember.

Growing up with you, it started in our
schools sand box.
I only remember the stare i had for you
while i filled up a bucket with my tiny
shovel.
Later you grew into the piece that was
missing from my puzzle.
Always referred to as childhood sweethearts.
Years branding us with crows feet, and
still listening to Mozart's.
How we love the classics, sunny days
feeding the pigeons on the park bench.
Looking at the children in the sand boxes.
Catching the little boy with his first stare."

My sweetheart let us start and go up to finish line
Let we take each drop from the bottle full of wine
On our way we will take care of each symbol, sign
Let assure I am yours and you are totally just mine

Let us have taste of reality just  never ever to dispel
Open up and provide me an abode to reside, dwell
In your company I do not mind either heaven or hell
Let the time take all this for times to narrate and to tell

My sweetheart let me embrace you to grace my style
Who we are and what we are let us forget for a while
Let me uncover you crease by crease being your loyal
I am a romantic poet of the east, you are my poetic file

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow

I burnt down the metal cage
that confined me

I have broken up with God
and I am blossoming

without his hand pushing
my head down

I eat blackberries straight from
the bush

tasting the dirt where they grew
the tightest bud bursting

into fruit that nurtures me
that sustains me

I am Godless and cageless
I am a woman of

flames, starting fires
wherever I go

burning, burning, turning
into ash

into the very dirt I courted
with my purple stained

lips

I watch the water
beam from the sun
and that is what you call
making love
The Earth is the greatest poet I know.
I pluck at her expression
every so often
merely attempting
to translate her lyrics
into something,
just something
we can all feel and understand