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Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
My sea is far away
let's meet closer anywhere
under the one same cloud.

My blue water is for the sun.
I sing beneath the wave.

My rose is for the show
I am imbued in the fragrance.
Love is in the air
the scent wafts into my heart.

My sky is open wide
beyond the rainbow
beyond the peacock's eyes.
It hugs the earth
reaching out far afar.

Catch it too
see from beneath the blue.
It casts the birdseye
slips out a butterfly!
A poem from my upcoming book Qun: Love is Unconditional
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Sitting beneath a giant squid eating sushi.
Watching the bubbles in my beer rising to the top of my glass.
Lost in my dreams, from on top the canopy of life,
living the moment with you.

Time holds its breath as you sit beside and in me,
with your disc jockey voice and your blue-grey eyes.
I’m floating away in a glass of foam as you carry me away,
surrounded by a sea of voices beneath a giant squid.

Your hair rolls in a sea of auburn waves, caressing your face.
Emotion welling in my heart, burning my soul.
In the next room fire leaps from tables to light our way,
to a place where love is remembered and memories kept.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Lurid pressure in perfect hiding,

Heat rises amidst quiet timing.

Covers conceal fingers,
And skin conceals-

Well,

Only from the blinded.

Flitting breath from lungs to neck,

Begging tongue,
And baiting breast.

Tentative flesh,
Upon tentative flesh,

What comes next?

Anything I want,

If this is,

Yes.
Don't judge my #'s
MeanAileen Jul 2017
I'm not even sure who I am anymore...
I've become but a shell of myself, before.

And my eyes, once happy, look hollow and cold,
with a empty sadness that can't be consoled.

As loneliness grows, festering inside-
the hurt becomes much harder to hide.
 
Darkness has taken control of my heart...
quietly and completely, I'm falling apart.
 
Gathering shards of my broken soul,
I quickly forget what it is to be whole.
 
Life has lost meaning, but I no longer care.
I'm numb...I'm nothing- just dust in the air.
 
Yet envy eats at me, day and night
for those who exist without this fight.

Impassive I let all hope fade away,
knowing tomorrow will be just like today.
 
I am oh so weary from living as I do-
dear lord, let this end, I beg of you...
No matter how I tweak it, this poem never feels finished to me...
Seanathon Mar 2017
I feel so tired
I can barely breathe
My chest is concave
Like the narrow dell
Soaking up the rain
And pulling in the leaves

And though I’m not hollow
I am not whole
And though I’m weary
It is not my soul
Which cries aloud
Unto the the trees

Except for your sound
The sound that is
Of when you sing
And walk beneath
This canvas of leaves
Free as your feet

But the soles of my shoes
And the lids of my eyes
Are now heavy
As my head it lulls
And wants to roll
Back to the ground

So my pillow now
Is underneath
The hooded wood
And as the world
Slowly closes round
It’s you I see

Within the leaves
Beneath the trees
Looking up. Looking down. At you. At me.
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
Art, a smile like the one
on the face of Mona Lisa.
Curved like the waxing moon
above the sea.
Light a flame before a face
yet to be seen.
What will it prevail,
will it show once for all
a slow tilt on the smiling lips
—a curve softly locks on
a rose from the sun,
or a shadow beneath the moon?
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Twigzy Sep 2018
Your children are a precious gift so innocent and pure.
At their birth you have the hope of love, lasting evermore.

You spend your waking days attending to their needs,
Waiting for the next smile and sound of utter glee,

And when you sleep you dream of them and wait until the dawn,
Rising before break of day to greet them in the morn,

Your babies grow and soon become your little girls and boys.
You exchange all their play things for larger, bigger toys.

You’ve learned about mothering and matured along the way,
But your relationship with their daddy isn’t turning out ok.

There are ups and downs and you expect that to be true.
But underlying unhappiness begins to escape through.

Daddy doesn’t seem to be all he is meant to be,
Late nights in the lounge, is he watching the TV?

Your children keep you happy though, just look into their face,
They make you smile, they make you laugh, and they fill you with grace.

But underlying unhappiness cannot be washed away,
It’s growing like a tumour, just waiting for its day.

You are not sure what it is, but this one thing you know,
No matter what happens now, you enjoy watching your children grow.

The pre-teen years are nearly over and the high school years draw near.
Then one child beckons you and whispers in your ear.

“Daddy’s been molesting me it started when I was four
All those times you were asleep, he came through my bedroom door
He put his hands all over me I couldn’t make him stop
I wanted to die many times, to fall down and drop!

He hurt me with his ***** mummy, I am so ashamed
I was too scared to tell before because I was to blame
Once, you were in the room mummy, I could see you sleeping
He molested me then and there mummy, I could hear your breathing

My heart screamed out to you mummy, but I did not exist,
My soul began to suffocate and death seemed freedoms bliss.”

The words your child is speaking echo through an empty void,
And darkness falls around you, encumbering you like a shroud.

Someone just stuck a knife into the heart of what was sacred.
Your precious children have been filled with someone else’s hatred.

You need some help, you need to grieve but who can be trusted.
The fear the shame the hurt the blame your heart is torn and busted.

You collect your shattered children and hold them very tight,
You hold them ever so-close, you hold them with all your might.

Flashes of the years gone by ignite before your eyes,
And you see so clearly, all the torment in his lies.

Time has passed you by and your children have grown
But it feels only yesterday you were crushed against the stones
This was how the my first marrage ended.
Our family has survived. My children have become brave adults, they are my heroes
BlindClandestine Oct 2018
“Beneath the willow
She’s singing
Beneath the willow
She’s waiting.

Beneath the willow
Under the willow
Her body
Is now laid to rest”

A simple rhythm
I follow
A simple tune
I hum

A simple song
I used to sing
In those days,
When I was young

But I’m not a kid
Not like the other kids

They form a circle.
Hands held together.
Dance around;
Enjoy singing

I,
On the other hand,
Kept thinking
And thinking.

Why is there a willow?
Why is the woman there?

“Laid to rest”.
How?
Shot, eaten,
Poisoned?

May have died of old age.
May have not.

I wanted to know…
Already 18;
I went into the woods.
Looked for the willow I know

Two before, now three.
To the center willow;
“What was she singing?
Why was she here?”

There was nothing.
Just dead silence.

Asked again,
Yet no response.
Maybe, just maybe
I’m already losing my mind

I needed rest.
Something startled me.
A stone,
Not any kind of stone.

A graveyard stone
So old;
Dirt covered the entirety,
Although I have read these words.

“My beloved Willow,
For whoever finds your grave
Will be your eternal companion”

Is it just me?
Or is my mind on it again?
Doing its tricks,
Because of a graveyard stone?

Wind blew for a moment
As if someone passed by

Then I heard it,
I heard the song.
I saw a woman,
Heard her singing.

I stood there,
Paralyzed

In a long white gown
Hair dangling,
Towards me,
She walked.

Run…
Run!!
RUN!!!
Screaming in my head.

But I couldn’t
She got hold of me

Her hands,
Gripping tightly my arms.
I could not escape,
I could not run

Gripping me,
Still singing

“Beneath the willows
You’re singing
Beneath the willows
You’re waiting

Beneath the willows
Under the willows
Your body
Will be laid to rest”

Her head is up.
Her eyes,
Bloodshot red.
Gazing into my very soul.

“Let go of me
Please let go.”
Remains in my head
No word can I speak.

Feeling heavy
Helpless

As I try,
Making an inch move,
I am slowly devoured.
Not by her.

A willow.
Not two
Not three
Just one ****** willow

Slowly
Crushing me

Can’t get out
Nowhere to escape
STOP!!! STOP!!!
Trying to catch my breath

Agonized, screaming
Endlessly.

NOOOO!!!
Fully consuming me.

Awakened by my mother.
Embrace, she whispers,
“It was all just a dream.
My only beloved Willow”.
This is a first to publish on a website a poem of mine. I want to improve myself in writing poems.. Please do tell me if you have any suggestions or comments cause it will be a great help :) :) :)
Seanathon May 16
Just a blind man can have faith
In the firmness of world beneath his bed
So also will I believe in steadfastness of my God
And that I will arise anew each day
To begin again
For as long as he wishes
I am his
Sacrelicious Jun 2012
Buried alive, beneath the rhetorical lies.
Of a thousand broken-prayer beads.

Surrounded by all of my....
False hopes.
Fake friends.
&
Some, hornet priests
who are exorcising their own demons.
On a ******* fueled ****** of sadism in it's own right.

On the dark side of the confession booth. This is nothing.

But a divine
waste of my time.
I'll see you all, in Hell.
avalon Jun 2018
i think our souls will wrap around each other forever.
every moment we spend together feels like
dangling on a precipice and
coming home.
i think our souls will wrap around each other forever.
Shofi Ahmed Dec 2017
Every star across the seven skies
wishes to kiss it is a gold dust.

Not to mention the Moon in the centre
waning and waxing in the open and in secret
keeps unleashing longing to rub
this non-sublunary piece on its forehead.

She knows only then the rough seas beneath
her will calm down in the soft raining moonlight
rubbing off such a lucky blossomed forehead.

Oh, if only scarcely they could ever see it
the galaxies since their inceptions longing for it.
The bliss of the eyes tucked away from the scene
Paradise lies beneath the mother’s feet!

The mother is fast is for all and is down to earth
She, the mother Fathima descended down
from up above the heaven that pivotal frontier
only all the prophets’ Prophet has seen.
Then was no Adam nor Eve or Jibreel!

Paradise finds its core with its resonant lore
in the shadow of the original feminine Fathima
the immortal hotspot the original matter explored.
Paradise lived and breathe beneath her
but she touched down at the heart of the earth
without stepping or touching on paradise
only to give away her stake to others!
No land she would take on her way back indeed
Not in her name, know where Fathima’s grave is?
When people visit Islamic holy city Medina they look for the grave of the holy lady Fathima. It has been the 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 It's been said that she preferred her grave to remain unidentified.
Shofi Ahmed Jun 2017
There is a sun
shining cool
hanging low
and beneath it
is a smiling rose.

Between the two
which one are you?
Alyssa Underwood Dec 2016
O morning sky of endless blue
Tinged with purply-pinky hue
You tell me of His mercies new
Whose heart pursues my own

O geese in wingèd winter's flight
Your honking cries arouse delight
And lift my gaze to seek thy sight
As wooing from His hand

O softest breeze which skims my face
And stirs with such mysterious grace
My soul to reach for Love’s embrace
You brush me with His kiss

O snowflakes falling to the ground
You pierce my heart without a sound
To crave a purity only found
Beneath a bloodied cross

O setting sun in half-light glowing
Waning day’s last glorious blush showing
You paint with fire my spirit’s own knowing—
This life is fading fast

O stars of midnight’s blackest sky
Paraded forth, you pull my eye
Toward One Who speaks this ceaseless cry:
“I’m coming back for you.”

O creeping fog to dawn’s light clinging
You whisper, Love’s veiled message bringing,
With haunting echoes faintly singing,
“Lose all of you in Him.”
~~~

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world."  ~ Psalm 19:1-4a

~~~
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
On the very edge the living earth
dared to replicate Queen Fathima
The Queen of Heaven’s footstep.
That way is the destination de jour
graced by thousands of prophets of God!

In the name of Allah she descended
on the Night of Ascension.
From the Night of Measures unlike the rest
none can enumerate it yet an unnumbered zone
in the perfect geometrised transcended location.  

The earth steps in the gap making way for her:
The only asymmetric golden ratio
Slips out to the symmetric prophet flock!
Sequenced in symmetric phi she moves on
in the veil, reveals her unique divine relation,
the front burner for sure is ever closer to God!

So pretty she is the paragon work of art
the sunrise amidst the eternal night.
Her beauty in her shadow is burning fire.
She is 'Zahra' pure light the luminary dynamo
the only one woman had no shadow!

The great women flocked and mirrored the earth.
Treading across every atom on that angle
perfectly aligned down the Moon.
Until those beneath the skin atoms
bang, explode, on approaching the behemoth,
the vibration beneath Fathima’s foot!

The ocean billows up
feels life on the high
floating on the clouds.
Choreographed like a little dew
hanging low on the rose.
Just to drop down on that hot spot
like a cool honey drop.

Even the Moon on the horizon
fancies to sip from this drop.
Ah, the lunar punter is rowing down.
The sleeping beauty wakes up
eyes are on the silver dance.
Eying on every star in the night
the Moon is floating down.
The seven seas sing out in the dark
bubbling with exuberant fireflies
that would gleefully rock the moonlight boat
over to the cup of this pretty little drop.  

Poetry in motion is a sea on the ground
the same is known as the Moon in the sky!
The storylines jump ever more
on that way over the shady grove.
Painting the colour of the winds
the sky rains down on that spot
singing the sweetest title song.  

Never was a woman prophet of God
to the one primitive woman, the leading lady
'Sayeedatun Nessa' Queen Fathima
heaven is no secret, it is an open mirror!
For her heaven is made an open book
the first batch of houris came to be
tuning into the sounds of her toes.
The earth in its primitive water first moved on
bang, Big Bang, soon she drops in it her hair lock.
She's the hidden gem in the secret end of God!

For the planetary ebb and flow on the way heaven
the planet earth is the only stepping stone.
No matter how many times it tries on
there will still be an unturned stone.
Until the very one woman, the original
the Queen Fathima steps on.

Her presence connects the dots
the nadir and zenith perfectly line up
intersect into one grand perfect circle.
She will close it with the pi once for all
without a gap spilling new decimal.
Putting it all on the map ‘as above, so below’,
all in all, like it's in pure scientia scenario.

Heaven will open its grand door
where the queen will stand on.
No more reverse engineering physically
the original, Fathima will step on,
on the last turned stone.
From the one great woman
paradise starts from here on
from beneath the mother’s foot!
nandhitha Nov 2017
My mind is like the "tides"!
Beneath the tides lie countless memories....
Drowning in emotion...
Shofi Ahmed Dec 2017
The moon is still hanging low
since it came down so close.

The seven seas dance
beneath her polished feet
but could never touch it.

Then the intact moon,
in fact, did unleash
only when one popped
out ahead of the rest.
Down from the earth
luminary Muhammad
Peace be upon him
pointed his finger towards it
and into two halves did the Moon split!

But the man wouldn’t touch it
and remained with us all
with every human the Moon dwarfs!
Commemorating the birthday of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). One of his miracles was that he split the moon after some pagans asked him to show them a miracle to prove he is a prophet.
amber Jul 2018
I rip myself apart,
piece by piece.
I place bits of my heart,
into your hands.

you step on me.
burying my body,
beneath soil.
no mercy,
in your eyes.

you were never aware,
of all that manifested,
beneath my shell,
deep within my heart.
so why would you mind,
tearing it apart?
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
When you stepped in my door,
I realised I was Paradise
in my heart and soul.
You were so surefooted
because you came up from the high.
So long I longed for it.
O Fathima, only to kiss your feet!

The time was so sweet,
beyond anyone’s dream
only in pure beauty
I was rendering,
screaming to new highs.
I did it my way!
Lovely bouncing on
my polished pitch,
the rivers forget to flow
back to the seas.
But no one knew
where my toe melts!
Until you did
and took me for a tread
closer to your spring,
my sweet dream:
O Fathima, only to kiss your feet!

Your so pleased man wished
to rain down with love,
but humble you hid your feet!
You blinded the moon, snowed it
away under seven seas.
No wonder it's
your winning footing.
Like the Prophet said:
I found me the heaven
beneath the mother’s feet.
O Fathima, only on your feet!
an arcane sculpture of trees
evolutions of an umbrella completes
the verdant swaying arbor of leaves
straining limbs hold branches to please
arm to palms and leaf to feet
strive to possess a neighbor sweet
twisted sprigs move wicked feet
knotted legs reach outskirts weave  
wander free as the forest grows      
sowing slow the harvest beneath                      
sedate to foster sticks and stones
nurturing bluffs of tangled trunks
overgrown postures and bent back bones
reveal agonies dim gallows
mocking mortal remains



Terry D’Arcy-Ryan
Debbie Brindley Sep 2018
Let me pretend our life is normal
there's no illness here
As I lay beneath the covers
with you
my dear

Under the covers
On a chilled mornings day
outside beyond our window
children are at play
Freshly brewed coffee
drifting in on the air
As we lay
beneath the covers
without a care

Spring flowers bloom
their perfume
dancing in on the breeze
Hear the Kookaburras laughing
outside in the trees
Dogs bark in the distance
a few streets away
But under the covers
nice and cosy
is where we shall stay

Till it's time to get started
on our day ahead
But for now I'm quite content
under the covers with you
in our bed
Pretending  life is  normal
Seanathon Sep 2018
Pieces of you scatter and sway  
       With every footstep underneath

Like a string of steps beneath the sea
       My hope is silt
       And my thoughts are of you

Though the tides may turn
       On a direful coin
       As they press for only the most history true

It’s forever in memory and in mind
       And in the quiet corners of my conscious mind
       Where you will be

Drifting like the sparkling sands
       Are the memories of you renewed
It's hard to let go of a pleasant memory. For me, something stunning and ironic keeps on resurfacing in my personal life. A song, a saying, etc. Suddenly it will just click for me mentally, stirring up the past like a cloud of silt at the bottom of the ocean.

And most difficult of all is that I WANT to be there. Such a beautiful sight is hard not to revisit. But I cannot survive beneath the sea. I'm not a fish.
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