#bestpoems
What can a slave offer anyway...
That's the mind of the slave masters and the slaves... What an epical irony transmuted into the genes of the future.. so says, it goes The sins of the fathers...
The slave dealing of ancient times, the mill might have been removed but the wind still blows
Sep 4, 2024
Sep 4, 2024 at 7:22 AM UTC
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Sep 16, 2020
Sep 16, 2020 at 4:38 AM UTC
my best poems came:
in months, days of desperation,
hours, moments of elation, it was the
always imbalance that just was, that
was/when the karma-was in-balance
my best poems always, always,
came accompanied by tears, many,
before, during, certainly after, even
twice, when a later returning stumble,
brought the sentries to open old gates
never, at any time, was a man with many
friends, reasons plenty, reasons mine,
it was an imbalance that just was, that
of the karma-when-in-balance, except,
the creative offsprings became children,
painful to raise, coming to visit occasionally
hear no quiet trumpet moaning, nor a violin
shed the human cries that only a man-made
instrument can be forgiven for being better at
than their own creators. Much by choice, or
criminal laziness, all tinged by a fear so subtle,
don’t think anyone knew it existed, yet, always
humming “see the man running against the wind”
there you have it. no summing up necessitated,
because how the numbers add up, the total is
just the total, and know, you can finish this one,
the total is just a rose by any other name, it’s a
number that by definition was the of, the when,
“when an imbalanced karma-was-in-balance.”
Jul 27, 2020
Jul 27, 2020 at 3:40 PM UTC
To Hope means to ,
reverse the death ,
the only reality ,
into a flower of difference .
To Hope means to ,
separate barriers ;
onto which lingers the truth .
To Hope means to ,
believe changes are good .
With you gone I realize ,
Sometimes against all odds ,
All logic ,
we still hope .
~ Adaa Sayed
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 12:57 AM UTC
While we were making the past ,
the future has deteriorated.
When we think to mend the present
life has moved .
Perhaps whenever we are wherever ,
we are there itself .
Why think of a better future ,
when the past mends itself .
Tonight we have a moment ,
depends if we think of the night ,
where we'll sleep , or
of the morning's ring .
We'll still be in the night , till the morning's rise .
We are in the moment forever ,
there is not an option to live in the Past , or ,
In the Future .
- Adaa Sayed
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 12:40 AM UTC
When you think you fought for the right ,
Why is my mom lifeless ?
When you took of his head ,
He was my brother .
When you can get food ,
Why is my family starved to death ?
Hey soldiers ? ,
Are you Brainwashed ?
You care for you father and mother .
I am left without a single brother .
What wrong have I done ?
I pray to die .
Will you go to Heaven or Hell ?
- Adaa Sayed
Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 10:05 PM UTC
I thought
you were the sunlight
slicing my dark
when all you did was
sketching everything black
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 9:26 AM UTC
I run to the high mountains
I pour my heart out to the skies
I sing of the summer song
While the sky above dances in yellow light.
The cool breeze fools the sun above
Takes a run, wins the mighty fight.
Your light then comes to me with warmth,
A view my heart wants.
Love to me is the song you write.
The tricks you play with the endless sky
And with the icy wind you find a disguise.
You burn me like the sun that burns up
In the blue abyss.
With the ink of my emotions
You write a song of Fire and Ice.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 9:38 AM UTC