"ashima" poems
in the middle of nirvana, ashima wakes up
she doesn't know how she reached this sphere
full of silver lights and black silhouettes
everyone she knows seems to be present
greyly shimmering leaflets are floating
through the air, gently, like mist
and red fireflies are clapping their wings
the crowd of shadows is starting to sing:
"ashima, you have come a long way to us
we are the voices of nirvana, listen
nirvana is the deep core of your soul
the land of your most secret wishes
sometimes, in your dreams, you reach out
when you are waiting for a train and the
rays of the sun are reflecting your thoughts
you never find us but we know where you are
you may call us your wishes, we belong to you
as **** as branko and your mom do
are you the imitation of your dreams, ashima?
or do your dreams imitate you, our girl?
certainly, you will become the thing you dread
we know that you took revenge recently
when you were slashing the pedophile's throat
as his blood was slowly flowing into the sheets"
in the middle of her apartment, ashima wakes up
she becomes aware of a crinkled and dark leaflet
it is more than twenty years old, informing about
something that ashima can not read anymore
the letters on the leaflet have become dust
ashima is taking a deep breath and sighs
her pitbull branko is strolling towards her
his wet tongue, ashima thinks, feels cute
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 11:04 AM UTC
ashima abraham
teenage girl
needed love
desperately
she thought the reason for her
despair might been her longing
while her longing was nothing but
normal and the origin of her
despair might been
fear
one day she met an older guy
his name **** black he a
forensic officer
investigators like him look for
traces under dead body's fingernails
stuff like that
until ashima met **** her
love was exclusively reserved to
her pitbull
his name was branko
a fearsome creature
Nov 19, 2019
Nov 19, 2019 at 5:27 PM UTC
The cloudy arena that spreads around
little dew drops on the pine leaf that i have found
Sweet cinnamon like fresh morning scent
that lingers through out the winter stretch.
Staring through the window pane
the sight of this mystical gallore
of the Winter Solstice that i adore.
The snow flakes that form a white cast
erasing the tracks from the past
pine cones that form a pile on the ground
and white little flowers growing wild around.
Makes me hitched to the immortal gaze
of this winter solstice
it seems so quite and calm around
yet so perfectly profound
the breeze through the pines is the only sound
so cozy and snuggled appears every thing around.
As i step out to embrace this day
the winter binds me to its amaze
and i silently pray for this winter solstice to stay.
~By Ashima
May 25, 2012
May 25, 2012 at 10:25 AM UTC
Heart of gold of yours
It is dead so is useless
so what if you have?
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 10:32 AM UTC