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 May 2016 Tahirih Manoo
r
I am thinking of the dead
who are still with us
on their way in the rain
to meet lovers or brothers
and my sadness waves back
like grain in the fields
of lost summers and summers
before that, fireflies in the dark
still young and beautiful
like starry nights, but for them
there is no moon, and for us
the same news we do not receive.
In memory of Barry.
April 3, 1955 - May 15, 2015.  
You are missed, Brother,
New
Hopelessness
Is an ice cream
Though you keep it for long
It dissolves into nothingness
As soon as the heat of hopefullness gets stronger
 May 2016 Tahirih Manoo
Àŧùl
He was so happy when I was born,
Now I am so happy as he reaches 60,
But I am a bit sad too for he'll get old,
Wiser he gets as he is more ancient,
Wrinkles suit him much better now,
And his face is the cutest paradox,
His childhood is always apparent.

वे बहुत ख़ुश थे जब मैं पैदा हुआ था,
अब मैं बहुत ख़ुश हूँ जब वे हो रहे हैं 60 के,
परंतु वे वृद्ध होंगे तो थोड़ा उदास भी हूँ,
प्रौढ़ावस्था में वे अधिक चतुर हो रहे हैं,
झुर्रियाँ अब बहुत बेहतर लगती हैं,
और उनका चेहरा सबसे प्यारा विरोधाभास है,
उनका बचपन हमेशा प्रत्यक्ष होता है।
My father's birthday is tomorrow on the 12th of May, 2016.

His government service now reaches superannuation and by the end of this month he retires from a highly successful career at ICAR - National Dairy Research Institute, Karnal.

My HP Poem #1070
©Atul Kaushal
 May 2016 Tahirih Manoo
Àŧùl
Atul said:
We'll dine together,
We'll dance together,
And we'll relax together.

We'll create possibilities,
We'll explore possibilities,
And we'll plan possibilities.

We'll flirt sweetly,
We'll play mutually,
And we'll love heavenly.

Aisha says:**
Walk on the streets late night,
Holding hands so right,
Lit are no lights,
Listening to our sighs,
A golden peace in our sights.

We do not allow anybody,
To separate our united body,
We show the world so boldly,
How we move so lovingly.
An Atul-Aisha collaboration.

My HP Poem #1070
©Atul Kaushal
 May 2016 Tahirih Manoo
Rapunzoll
they make goodbyes
sound easy
when they're at your door
late at night
and they scream your
name like a warning
from the bottom
of the staircase
you leave them,
until apologies make
your tongue as raw as
saw-dust
those nameless boys
the one's with
smoky breath,
they write your name
to the skies
constellate it to their
forefingers and cross it
over their forehead
like a baptism
those boys with hands
that eat like worms
at the dying heart
of your feelings
no, they don't love you
only death can
love you,
nameless girl
with the
countless faces.
© copyright
I have a constant urge to write
since deep within me resides
that nagging need in all tides



© Sylvia Frances Chan
Saturday 10th January 2015
Just that, and that's why I write,
like my late father did.
Poems mean a lot to me
indeed a very lot you see
the society I live in
is reflected in all the lines
  love is very important almost a sin
and the always one glasses of wines
  
the best medicine for our health
they say is also wealth
but I regard love is the most important
remember I am human not a mutant

love is the best for our life
it is obvious that we must strife
love is like the present wind
that blows constantly so tender in
through my thirsty body and mind
I reside in this country oh so kind
  a country full of peace, plenty of place and love to hide
that's why I have my domicile here and reside
 
 My beloved likes reading and traveling
we have seen parts of the world a very lot
I have other kinds of interests, like painting
writing essays, listening to music, and praying to God
building websites, designing cards and yes
conducting PC Help desks, accounting, telebanking, and playing chess
in London and Serfaus, going to musicals and skiing,
along the Mediterranean sea, enjoying life, making love while driving

how do I do that, d'you really want to know, dear?
while whatsapping, walking, running, and the music to the ear
really very simple, your love in you, your whole soul in there,
just like our parents using tupperware

but ah, I like most to describe the love in poems I write
then posting them for your most beloved after that heavy night
since love is so important in our life
you must not take it for granted but must strife

we can't miss it in our life its function
like: though sometimes on our highway a junction
it's like the great water of the mighty ocean
it has grip on you, you feel the strength, but it's your addiction
the strong water's ripples too, its mildness
you demand the best, the most but never less
and remember for ever that in the country I live in
the kind of love I'm so addicted to, is never a sin
in the end my heart and being will constantly say Amen


© Sylvia Frances Chan
15th August 2013 -
5.21 hrs a.m. WETime
Cool fresh wind 10C degrees now
later will be 20C degrees at the most
 Apr 2016 Tahirih Manoo
Nite
Walls
 Apr 2016 Tahirih Manoo
Nite
There's a girl with walls around her
Walls that were built to protect her from the evils of the world
Walls with masks hanging
Each showing a different face
But

I see her behind her walls

The more she's hurt
The thicker the walls become
Effectively deterring anyone from getting close
Yet trapping her inside
But

I see her behind her walls

The facades she brings forth
Are carefully calculated
To minimise any foul play
So that she doesn't have to have her heart
And soul scarred and broken again
But

I see her behind her walls

She runs behind her walls
Flinging sarcasm, insults and indifference
Whenever someone tries to get close
As she's learned time and again
That every time she brings down her walls and allow someone into her heart with the promise that she doesn't need her walls anymore
They tear her defenses down from the inside
Leaving her to rebuild all by herself
But

I see her behind her walls

I come knocking on her walls
Calling for her to let me in
Telling her that
I see her behind her walls
And that I love her
And that I'm not asking her to bring down her walls
But to build our own walls
Just us

Can you see us behind our walls?
You're not welcome
This was written a couple of years ago but the last two lines were just added recently
 Apr 2016 Tahirih Manoo
Nite
It's so hard
To keep on pretending to be strong when all you want to do is cry

It's so hard
To go to sleep and then rise early in the morning and face all your troubles again

It's so hard
To keep a smile on your face when all you want to do is punch them in the noggin

It's so hard
When you've tried your best yet everything still goes awry

It's easier
To just put your head in the noose and cut off the air supply

It's easier
To just step off that ledge and wave your troubles goodbye

It's easier
To toast their health while they sip on their drinks which you've poisoned

It's easier
To just slit your wrist and find sweet release
Written 13 years ago when I was 21 at a time when a few of my friends including my best friend passed away. Some to suicide and some to other things.
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