#nic
It’s where I want to be,
That place I cannot reach.
And if I dare to look ahead,
it will taunt me, Warn me.
Go back a step instead!
“I’ll never get there!”
My vision starts to blur.
Reaching out with fuzzy hands,
To hold something steadier than my nerve.
But dense is the air and the fear, that wears me like a cloak.
They picked me up like this, they saw that I had broke.
How to step forward, when these shoulders are my home?
Looking back is easier, if you kid yourself you’ve grown.
Mar 26, 2021
Mar 26, 2021 at 5:59 AM UTC
Let the dust settle
be patient
as you watch
and trust,
that gravity,
will coax it down
allow 'time'
to assemble its own fate
a silent audience
we must sometime be
to observe all things
bad and great
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 7:08 AM UTC
As with flowers and with bone,
the life you lead will be sewn.
and under flesh and weeds,
will lie a soul filled with deeds.
and I hope, upon the greatest descend,
with no-more hearts left to mend,
Before the tears and the dirt,
you'll Smile, for all life is worth.
So when the rain falls and the sun sets,
you'd have loved it all with not one regret.
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 6:48 AM UTC
Source Of Pleasure
My sweetheart you are always in dreams
The moment I open eyes you are in front
You surround me around like light beams
I love you because you are rude and blunt
I keep you hidden in heart like a treasure
I carry you along like my colored universe
You my love remain my source of pleasure
You are so wonderful so sweet and diverse
I love you as I love my life is really precious
I consider you as my only choice in my life
I do know that you are so kind and gracious
So please take me to heart don't keep on knife
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 7:48 AM UTC
The rise and fall of our music seemed to synthesize into the light of the room. Our voices seemed to grow inside of us, padded with memories and laughter, growing full with the alcoholic nourishment, until all at once, it would bubble over into a crescendo. It was sharp and soft, harsh and tender, filling our ears with colors we had forgotten to remember in the corpse of the last few days. The staccato bite of reality brought the symphonies down to piano sobs that lulled the night into its dream. The room had a haze, golden in its familiarity, but the tune on the books was not quite right, the time signature gone. The rhythm was unsure; even the conductor pacing wildly about, looking up only to hear the echo of a waltz he once danced to in jubilee, with the promise of a life ahead. The music was now faded, on a greyscale, just like the wedding album. Only he could hear the melodies that had pulled him beyond the brink of love, under the threshold of its great fortissimi. He was content to have it play as the score to his remaining years, muffled and muddled, refusing to rest in his harmonious love affair. Unfamiliar with his own melody, his voice was shy, shaking, and broken. The audience sat, waiting to hear the sounds that could come from the maestro, straining in a beg to hear hope.
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 10:01 AM UTC