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Shofi Ahmed Mar 2018
The body is for life but only to die
then there is an exception not all is linear
there is a feminine rose after the death
for her no more death on Earth!
She was there before the first matter
it was in the making before her eyes.
The first and foremost luminary feminine
moved on heartily panning flawless flow
aligning into the finest angle of the first matter.
Across the nadir to the zenith
Fathima eyes on upon it as it comes to be
shaping and forming art of miracle:
One true masterpiece without a mirror!

Arts on the go Fathima moves on
praise be to the Lord she being made to measure
mathematically perfect by birth the pi is her!
(The pi tends to circle the blank space within is feminine
while the circumference of the circle is masculine)
She can budge equally in the shadow
in patternless pi decimals and in the open,
in integer and into a whole full number!

Hops up her first step she looks for ‘the all’
the complete whole the absolute one Allah.
Time and again she steps up but finds no floor
her measured step by default lays on 360-degree circles
and scans everything at the first go still finds no bottom!

The first luminary masculine peace be upon him
first looks in the open she takes the veiled angle.
Through the evermore pi decimal micro-hole
she looks on and witnesses the first matter a water drop
surfaces up without a base without a roof on top!
It follows through truly the copy of the original
softly springing around the serene water paints  
of all the maters to be created from this first drop.
Fathima looks at it and veils withdraws her reflection.
Little chip bottomless deep into the finest nature
Fathima instills countless Boolean gates making
access to her beyond digital and AI and conditional.

The sky hasn't yet forgot that follows suit
first, a star was born stepping in Fathima’s shoe.
It tried so did the full set of the galaxy only to disperse
into a profound constellation never finds the bottom.
Amidst this water circle floats the first soil
Allah called it His house that He first created from it.
Every planetary orb pilgrimage around it in the core
named the Ka’abah up to the heart of the earth it rose.

In the pre-designed world following the first masculine
Fathima the first feminine pilgrimaged around it
not in the open but strictly in the patternless pi veil.

Nature is never uneven on the hand of the uneven pi
every little fraction a small decimal counts connects to the dot showing and without showing a pattern
long live, long live the digital charisma is on the rise!

The sun rises and retraces back in the middle lane,
the black box scores at the end of the day it's only a dark chart!
The Moon is yet to moon over an unturned sublunary-dip
It pulls all, the mighty sea that the earth can't
and syncs into the feminine water cycle but save only one
with Fathima floating out of the box it can’t link up!

Like millions, ever wonder where Fathima’s grave is?
The earth strived too to the death bite to print her footprint!
Most of the mass visiting Medina look too see the grave of the holy lady Fathima. It has been a tradition since her death some fourteen hundred years ago. There are two graves where she is buried but which one is her is still unknown. Reportedly she wanted her grave to remain unidentified.
White Lily Jul 2019
Pelita dalam kegelapan
Peta dalam perjalanan
Petunjuk dalam kesesatan
Pedoman dalam kehidupan
Abah,
Engkau segalanya
Orked Saerah Sep 2014
Aku lihat wajah sugul dia
Yang sedang duduk di sofa empuk kegemaran arwah abah
Tengah merenung nasib tuanya
Terkenangkan sikap anak-anak yang endah tak endah terhadapnya
Terngiang-ngiang lagi suara tua itu berkata pada aku
' Tak kisah lah orang nak campak mak ke mana, Mak ikut aje '
Begitulah ayat yang keluar dari mulut si nenek tua itu sambil ketawa perlahan
Riak mukanya begitu sedih
Sayu dan redup wajah tua itu
Nêijî May 2019
Abah,
This raya will be nothing without you
I wish we could turn back time
And start all over again.
You comfort me when I'm sad
And tell me to apologize for my faults
Is it worth to leave us like this?
Oh and I don't need your money,
I just need you to be a part of this family again and forever.
berniiie Jul 2015
The night takes its form
In stages of still blackness
and inky silence.

Ibu knits by the staircase
squinting in the candlelight
while reciting pantuns;
Abah trudges through the water
with a kerosene lamp
and a yellow umbrella
muttering to himself –

All is still on the water’s edge.
I look out the windows
torchlight in my hands:

Water is everywhere
Lawns and roads
In every house and every car
its murky reflection
placid, unmoving, brown;

The night brings with it
A cacophony of noises:
From the candlelight
A cricket calls to its mate
A bloodthirsty mosquito
buzz in my ear
the gentle patter of rain
on the roof
A glossary of terms:
Ibu - mother
Pantuns - traditional Malay poems
Abah - father

— The End —