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Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
The epitome on the show
is more than a dream turned true.
A timeless beauty stitched on the stone.
The first sight hooks the eyeballs
No star is a far cry from here
it looks so close.
A narrative feels so familiar is never old
seen tons of times yet is a new Taj Mahal.

Since the medieval eyes were dazzled
by this monument of love
the crave to eye on it once in a lifetime
is in every lover’s heart!
People of new ages flock here
with the admiring birds
on this air of everlasting romance never
gone with the wind are mesmerised with love!
The uniVerse Jun 25
I heard a bird
it chirped
with glee
my phone it burped
with urgency
I looked outside
and then to screen
another message
from you to me.
A poem about our relationship with nature and technology.
Em Dec 2018
A whimsical tweet
powerful enough
To send shivers
down your spine

The tones that make you
want to dance
and want to cry
are always the most divine.
i love bittersweet stuff
flutes make me feel like that i dunno
luv music
Diane Niyonkuru Sep 2018
the grass is green
so are avocados
my school uniform is green
so are avocados
the tree is green
so are avocados
kitty cats climb the kitchen
so are avocados
dog barks
Diane runs
bird tweets
Diane dies
so
are avocados
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2018
When the intelligent design was
sizzling and shining in the soul,
and the rest were still in deep mute
yet one was playing the lute!
Paradise saw me, to her I drew
and tweet “So beautiful are you.”

Pronto, the heaven turned around,
as if the first light after the eternal night
hovers on her lips like she then spoke.
Hissed to me, “without prejudice
am I by design the enduring showpiece.
So ask me what's indeed the beauty is.”

Without blowing a horn or waxing lyrical I say:
Didn’t it blur before you, that a magic snap?
The first reflection of the feminine form
on your golden spiral smoothed out water,
because she breathed on it, on the spot.
Up till now did you view this intact mirror?

Only one drop, keeping tight into the core with
a shadow of the reflection within doled out.
Instantly croons in and danced through every
river across your one hundred layers.
You are still painting on, go on take your time!

Even the atom from the bottom of the black hole
reaches out to the water, the feminine did it first.
Peering through the water’s skin she floats
with the utmost high-surfaced designs into mirror.
Only the primo wonder of the all one peerless God
looks on it, there is no veil except the one is her!
The Uncreated Word, fluid beyond, finest mellifluent
coined the creation, only to loop back to itself far greater.
Therein the root the first (pure light) feminine rose,
for good ever after blossoming flower!
Haylin Aug 2018
Don't tell me
what you learned in school
was useless

because
every day
you:

count
the number of likes
you got on your selfie
to figure out the value
of your beauty,

write
perfectly formed tweets
to exude creativity and wit
you wish you
actually possessed,

read
status updates
from former friends
who always seem
to be doing something
exciting,

become curious
about the lives
of people
you've never met,
and

question
why you waste
your time
comparing yourself
to carefully crafted personalities
that exist only
for Internet audiences
they would otherwise
be too afraid
to address.

Don't tell me
what you learned in school
was useless.
Knit Personality Aug 2018
A tweet takes form:
     He tweets, retweets,
     Tweets & repeats.
He tweets up a storm:
     He tweets, retweets,
     Tweets & repeats.

A birdbrain is
     (He tweets, retweets,
     Tweets & repeats)
A birdbrain his:
     He tweets, retweets,
     Tweets & repeats.

#
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
I want to be a materialist as much as I could.
I want to kiss the sun and marry the moon!

I want to invite all the stars, sending them a tweet,
and I’d like them all to join me on Facebook!

I want to carry the Himalayas on my shoulder,
and I’d like to swim across the Atlantic water!

I want to wax lyrical over the waves
and would like to fly with the clouds.

I want to be in the green
and would like to spread across the spring.

I want to paint on the sky
keeping my head held high.  

I want to wear the perfect fit ring,
as perfect as the pi-perfect circle,
with no endless nano-decimal hole,
just fine-tuned to my finger hole!
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
Touch me not
I am not up for grab
I am everyone's dream
I am happy as it’s
sing me not your lullabies!

Live with me not
I am not for good
time with me is
gone so quick.
Before the cloud
rains down singing
and one response to a tweet.
Then why complain
without happy me
nothing is groovy.

Come to me not
I am not
first come first serve.
But when I come
happy me is spot on
everyone’s rose!

I belong to no one
get me for a song
but in no time
I could be gone.
Then why no one
forgets me not?
Shofi Ahmed May 2018
Are you a witness of the precise moment
on that very proverbial, unpredictable day
when everyone did mind the gap
but the Ramadan moon took a step?

None could time it at first, as if it got out
from a black hole or an uncharted water well:
down the trail, who can tell?

Now a day or two is gone, has passed by.
The moon is in the fast lane soaring high,
and fills the orb with serene soft light.

Ah, buddies catch up, the suave fireflies.
Tons of these stay awake in the night.
Before they fly away, vanishing afar
into the epic portion of the night.
A confluence down the black moon,
only to catch a glimpse of any pattern:
a morning star or a forming pin bar,
a slice of light on a gingerly lit chart.
Premiering the Eid moon’s first blush.
Yet, if only one can time it, when will it flash?

Deep down a black moon, all eyes black out.
Still, how can one sigh though? Ah,
the unpredictable black moon, should it show
just a peek, showers the earth with Eid’s joy!

Will it show up in no time, far from the sight—
galaxies light up the shady nook of night.
A houri in the Eden rings the alarm.
The veiled bunch of fairies push the sky.
Every star throws its hat, only to tell first
when a crescent moon will crop up
And with the first spill of moonlight,
topflight it goes, pushing the boat out!

A walk down the black moon
without a light or water gone into the blue,
As though walking dead, blindfolded.
No pattern, decimals of Pi undefined by design,
but spot on gets to the apex spike!

There’s still an unmarked blank space
the light on this way doesn’t paint.
And this time, the time won’t tell
is there anyone who can is anyone’s guess.
So should the houri dare to run, then
cherubic she be on her flawless flaw,
rushes to ask the Queen of Heaven!

Oh, good luck to her, a wild one.
Time the black moon, its first glance
precisely when the Eid moon will crop up.
Enlighten us, we are more than curious.
Tell us, too—don’t just tweet it to the stars.
A poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
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