I am still learning pigs from men
and men from gods.
He was sweet today;
he said my name;
the curse is broken;
I am over him.

He is steadfast in the belief that
I cannot write him into my stories.
He has told me already that I confuse him.
A man is a man is a man.
Maybe I'm mad but that's ok,
because the orchestra in my head does not sing your name anymore.
Close your ears to what you do not want to know.

I will do
these amazing
things, just for you...

I will go to the nearby garden
of my neighbour, and steal the juiciest
fruits, the tastes of which contain
the wondrous tales of the trees,
you will be so excited to listen to
the tale of the mother parrot, who tasted
every Guava, and took the bite only from
the sweetest part to share with her children.
This neighbour might come after me carrying
his stick, but any risk can be taken, for our fruity
moments of togetherness, when we will sit cuddled,
and munch on fruits making surpy-surpy sounds...

I will make an orchestra
consisting of singing bulbuls,
koyals, pigeons and sparrows,
and will not say no to any
bird or animal who wants to join in.
For example, crickets and monkeys,
can join in, and even happy wolves with
their hoo-hoos. We should not say no
to anyone, because although our orchestra
may not sound well, but everyone
should be happy, everyone has a heart
which must not be broken...

Then, there will also be a dancing DJ for
the Sur-Suri Dance of the snakes,
for the Halli Dance of the dogs,
(originated from Hallaq Kuttaq,
their great-grandfather),
also some monkeys will be allowed
to swing their hips, all for your entertainment,
Some hyenas may also do yip-yip-yip,
and cry and laugh, laugh and cry,
but you mustn't be afraid then,
for these hyenas are also pals...

for you see for this day everyone
is our friend, the whole universe
is our friend, love flows like a waterfall,
for we are in love...

© Manan sheel.

The wind plays a symphony that only the silent can hear.
Close your eyes, put your mind at peace, and open you heart to the sound.
Let the breeze fill your lungs and lift you higher.
Hear the rustle of the leaves high above and the gusts whistling a tune.
Windchimes add percussion while the hum of the earth beneath your feet casts a steady beating of your heart.
Breathe in, breathe out becomes the harmony.
And the wind roars the melody.
You are the conductor, the one in control.
You guide the song through its journey and take a victorious bow.
And when you stand and look out again and wonder why it has to go,
Remember that there will always been another symphony storm



-t.s.

All are dancing slowly
This masquerade
A gala
Yet
All is in great discord
Among the orchestra
One is out of tune
Yet
None seem to care
To hear the broken melody
See the chip in the stone

Cover it up
With a little paint
None shall tell
Besides the meek little pup
Soon it shall faint
One shall yell
While the rest
Ring, ring, ring the bell
Dancing in discord
To the broken melody

Pulling out a flask
‘Neath the rows
Folk chatter and ask,
“Isn’t something off?”
While the other throws,
“Neigh!” then one does quaff

Shine a light
Alone the floor
Hold one tight
For one shall sing no more
Grasp it
So one may not fall
That she would not permit
Not a’tall

Sing, sober dream
Whisper your whims
Through a beam
On a limb
The lullaby
Child doth cry
Sing, sober dream
Sing, sing,
For ‘tall must end
One day.

- Jay M
September 12th, 2019

There’s a symphony
in her voice and it's playing
on all my heartstrings

10:19 PM
10/9/19

As his feet moved even faster, and he twirled and whirled and cantered across the stage, it was as if he existed in an indeterminate space - blinded by the footlights, deafened by the orchestra, absorbed in his own rumbustious choreography. Beyond the pit, in the anonymous darkness, the audience rippled and flared appreciatively in response. So he danced on until, with a final rapturous gesture of his outstretched arms, he plunged to earth as dizzy as a snowflake. And waited.

The silence shifted. The soft rumble of engine noise played softly in the background, while the chain-link fence rattled in the squall which blew fresh off the harbour. He opened his eyes and watched the cars crawling across the overbridge above him; the empty basketball court littered with yesterday’s snack papers lay in shadow. In the middle distance, a familiar figure walked briskly towards him.

‘Matthew! Matthew! You come here this secon’ or I’ll whip your **** right off, already.’
‘Yes, Auntie.’
‘What you doin’ tryna waste good time?’
‘Nothin’, Auntie.’
‘Ain’t that the truth, boy.’

As he stooped to gather up his satchel, Matthew saw out of the corner of his eye the concertmaster lower his instrument, incline his head, and begin to tap his music stand with his bow. From the balconies the first of a thousand rose petals began to fall with the evening rain, the applause thundered while the lightning clapped, and there in the gods stood his mother waving and blowing kisses at him, as he followed his aunt down East Street towards home.

Her laugh is infectious
and her words are precious
for they draw a constellation line
from one heart to another.

Her heart beat resonates with mine
creating a beautiful orchestra together.

Her touch sends an electrical impulse
down my spine;
an electrical connection,
connecting us forever.

She is the one who’s heart holds mine,
ear who guards all my secret
and presence my comfortability finds a way to.

She is the moon to my dark sky
and the ocean my heart yearns for.

She is all what I want and all I need.