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Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
Located in the prime location
Precisely at the right spot.
Squaring up the square
Laid to measure on the map.
Equal each side a cube stands
Aligned to the column
brimful every inch.

What now? ‘Looking for a margin,
Wide margin in the solid core.’

Like a human wants to turn up here
From every corner every nook.
The star splashes into its constellation
Like the sun and the moon
Love to wrap around here
Through the fastest route!

What now? ‘Everyone wants a margin
Wide margin where it matters all
It couldn’t be more brimful.
English Jam Feb 2018
She is a ruler, proud in her glory
Sets hearts to flame, turns lovers to screams
Her nails alone are ripped from a story
Reduces soldiers to men without mean

Eyes marble-black, with sharp slits in the centre
Hair that waves as though in water
Glistening red as crowds begin to enter
They know her tales, but none have caught her

What she requires - they all deliver
Her voice is a choir - that makes all shiver
She doesn't walk
She struts

Bends over in a seductive style
Caresses villainy in her seat
Crooning, intentions hidden all the while
Inaudible but the tread of her feet

March, march, march on to the drums
The Dark Majesty never forgets
Absorbing herself in hymns and hums
Oblivious to drunken admissions of regret

Queen of tyranny will never rest
But for serenity - she fails the test
She's majestic
But joy eludes her
There's a song by Queen called The March of the Black Queen that was the chief inspiration to this. Give it a listen, it's simply amazing.
nish Aug 2018
you always keep me on edge
does that make you my centre?
cynosure
noun
a person or thing that is the centre of attention or admiration.
Sean Hunt Dec 2018
I wondered today
if anyone has wondered
whether there is a center
to the universe
Godgle told me that
others have wondered
not about the wondering
but about the center

I am still wondering
no longer about the wondering
but about the center
English Jam May 2018
A delicately placed glove upon a hand, mock-gentle and pale
Marks his return
Emerging from the shell of feedback and tortured sounds

Carelessly shattering the eyes of doubters, until they softly thrash for mercy, wailing in an unearthly manner

Taking violent pleasure in crumbling love to a rubble, making the remains march to his fascist regime, his sexualised abuse, his blistering dictatorship

His tongue is dry, his jawline jagged like a ***** of fresh metal, his fingers slender and spidery
  
He strides silently, yet none can miss it, seizing attention in a
heil-ish fascion

His iron grip dredges my thoughts, infecting my hopes with his overflowing venom

He thrusts his black ink that peppers my skin with thousands upon thousands of dots, encasing my body, filling my mouth, prohibiting my free will

Twisting me to spiral downwards into his imagination
I descend into the darkness

The darkness ripped from my most volatile, filthy nightmares

The darkness that laces the web of black holes, that decimates any shred of light it can find, deliberately, harshly

My centre of gravity follows him to the sewers of the abyss, a cesspool of pain and stylised sexuality undiscovered by light

Everything starts swirling around him, revolving as though he is a star and all else is the merest of planets that are his to command

I'm going down now
I'm going down
I'm going dow-
ryn Jan 2015
.
             *the *future is...a tornado of uncertain-
          ty• a swirling vortex, in its centre is
me•such power and speed, can ne-
ver see•can never foretell, it's hid-  
den debris•like clockwork, it will        
   make contact•by the second, bra-        
cing for next impact•the past is...      
  yet another•wild winds that echo      
     my mistakes as reminder•this twis-         
      ter within...tearing with no remo-    
           rse•destroying confident strong-
             holds, breaking feebly boarded
           doors•can't ease the rage...eat-
    en from the inside•won't stop
until...my beating heart had
        died•the present is...only this  
   frail little body•fighting huge 
battles that come incessantly  
  •fending off the future, con-        
    taining the past•not know-            
ing how long.......this disas-       
ter would last•but I'm still      
   here.....still holding integ-         
   rity......•still fighting this       
war waged in history's        
folly•will i be settl-
ed? will the winds
ever abate?•
will i ever
      come to    
terms...?
will i
ever
    acc-
          ept
                     fa      
                 t
               e
             ?
             •
Shofi Ahmed Jan 27
Zero is enduring
zero is deathless.
Nothing is up to it
none can mirror it
though forever
it's an open case.
The eyes are yet to
see an open face!

Because like it's
nothing is in perfect shape
purely a perfect circle!
Nothing matches it
as like Fathima is none else!

Ever more sprawling pi decimals
never go unnoticed propelling
to the end surge before her.
Before the original one
Fathima is yet to be mirrored.

All the planets turn circular
before the unseen perfect circle.
Fathima nails it snapped it up
circled it with her hair!
Before the furthest sighted eyes,
the dot at the earth's centre
at its pool of primitive water.

Fathima embeds in a loop of her hair
thus supercharges the water!
It finds the cut, the golden ratio,
constant continuity in her hair's inner flow.
And the Big Bang happened
there, their breakthrough!
The potential worlds to be
from the first drop of water
she gets them all buzzed out.
From down the rock bottom,
from the zero null
Fathima finds and raises the sun!

Nothing is comparable to it on the ground
nor up on the high, we only see the fire
of a heavenly phenomenon is beyond the sight!
Danielle Suzanne Mar 2017
Like a Japanese
Cherry blossom before
The Spring bloom
Paper thin petals
Shift their gaze
Towards the
Rising sun
They quiver with
Anticipation
Of light and love

Exposed to the gentle licks
Of morning light
The Sun's elixir
promises cures
Tender wounds throb
Cautious excitement
Encouraging release
Thick fingers
Pry apart
Delicate layers
Pinkness revealed that
Deepens with discovery

In fullest bloom
She moves with
The breeze
Heart centre  
Becomes an easy target
For ladybugs
And honeybees
This once nocturnal flower bud
Reveling in
The midday sun

Pick me! Pick me!
March 19th 2017
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
shedding off such a lucky blossomed forehead.

Oh, if only scarcely they could ever see it
the galaxies since their inceptions longing for it.
Bliss of the eye 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 physics explored.
Paradise lived and breathe beneath her feet
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.
Dan Filcek Apr 2015
controlled intellectual tolerance,
considered Golden Age,
became first exchange, wars took their toll
turning point called second Age.
seaside expanding new suburbs
food shortage, riots, rooms had fallen
city invaded, concentration camps
some lived, one girl died, bookcase covered
scarce citizens, countryside foraged
spaces provided improved conditions
restoring entire city
city centre has reattained former splendor
buildings have become new millennium,
flat man is city inhabitant
city limits of foreign origin,
large wave settled asylum seekers
social projects make up the population
eight windmills summarizes open society,
increased influx has strained nationalities,
widest varieties share immigrant ancestry
city centre forms the foundation
Canal boats most popular
million visitors flood inhabitants, travel freely through
only staying for illuminated red lights.
This year for Poetry Month, I decided to post a "found poem" every day. If writing a poem is like painting, a "found poem" is like sculpting. source - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amsterdam
Anna Jul 2017
a tough nut to *****
but to get the softer centre,
you must break him apart.
020617
Ayeglasses May 2013
My heart is calm.
In the centre of your palm.
You don't even know it yet.
But I bet.
I'll mess it up somehow.
Don't blame me, please.
The opportunity I will seize.
I think the good outweighs the bad.
Paul Hansford Feb 2018
1.
Into a dull day
you came all unexpected.
My afternoon shone.


2.
Look into my eyes,
see my whole world reflected,
you at the centre.


3.
In your eyes are tears
but your smile overcomes them.
Where is the rainbow?


4.
There was so much more
that we could have said and done,
but we said goodbye.
Some will read these as authentic haiku, because of the 5/7/5 syllable count. Others will have noticed, since they are not related to nature or seasons, that they are not really haiku at all, but senryu.
Annelyra Oct 2013
Crash
And you're awake
Fighting with eyelids
Losing
tick tick tick
you're
running out
of
time
half an arm in your sleeve
and one shoe missing
girlfriend
this is modern life
the right to run yourself
absolutely ragged
was earned for you
by other better women
so run faster run faster runfaster
and make sure
your nails are as immaculate
as your
work/life balance

trickle trickle
down the centre of your back
fully paid-up member
of the local leisure centre
sculpting that body
for everyone else's sake
see the angel in the marble
and sweat until
you set it free
you're a modern-day
Michaelangelo
take out your chisel
and get back to work

tease those eyelids open
oh god
crash
crash
crashcrashcrash
heartbeat elevating
along with your blood pressure
have you forgotten..
no its ok
thank god
heart slows
with a family to support
and a mortgage to pay
you can't afford to forget
anything
and you can't afford
the sleep it requires
to sharpen that memory
you're paying in minutes
and you need more
than you can get

remember
if you can't touch it
it ain't worth nothing
glass coffee tables with
object d'art languishing beneath
that's what life is all about
fill your place with
minimalist furniture
have a feature wall
in every room
be edgy and creative
monochrome not florals
darling
seriously consider an extension
and a yacht
install a corner jacuzzi
in magenta temptress
that you'll never use
shout at the children
for spilling on the
cream wool carpet
invite friends over to
drink Merlot with you


carbon footprint aside
work is an hour away
so at the end of every day
get in your car
and hurtle towards home
weaving between cars
and lorries
and motorbikes
autopilot
thinking of emails
writing emails
receiving emails
gottapickupthekidsandsortoutthe..
then
you realise
with your chest bangbangbanging
that your eyelids gave up
just momentarily
as a lorry pulled out
driven by a 44-year-old
who will later
much later
joke weakly
women drivers
over his pint of Carlsberg
and in two seconds flat
you're going
to
crash.
Shofi Ahmed Nov 2018
There is a six seasonal turf on earth.
it isn't an acre of Moon truly an earthly Skookum.
A land so unique is written in stone
as if the enduring heavenly dew
streamed down on this patch of land!

Meet here the open future shows up at the earth's
hub-moon's anew rallying to the untouching-sea
the Indian subcontinent's corner to the ancient wind!

Naturally a hidden gem its in her element.
Her very soil the complete colour wheel matches
The birthplace of the great prophet Muhammad (PBUH)!
Destined to be the golden cut above the rest.
Amusing the heaps of the mindful minds
Sylhet stands on cloud nine eye to eye with
the pivotal soil of Makkah the centre of the earth!

Ah, the deep footed earth how mystique black
beneath it every morning the sun off the heaven’s hill
spreads a new diaphanous gold-light-rug, yet to paint
a footprint, a colourless magic, let alone the centrepiece!
Listen to the morning birds sing here deep in the midst
mellifluous-shrills fill the air unveiling the dream scenes!

The times anew numerating the bounties of our land.
Craving to sip in a dew-potion on our blossoming rose
cirrus clouds dancing over the seven seas here they drop!
Banish the midday blues singing the deep sea’s song.

Nestled amidst the Rivers Surma, Kushiara and Monu
Perched on the shades of the trees each one is a canvas.
Glows with changing Bangladesh's unique six seasons
as they swing and leap in the branches of the trees
and murmur with the upstream and the autumnal breeze.

Stunned angels on their way heaven taking one more
sunset potted in the starry bowl look back at the wee hours.
They can hear pianissimo on this shrouded perennial land.
It never falls asleep is awake with a numerically perfect
circle of 360 spiritual dynamos from the centre they hailed
with a handful of earth and lived here as it matched.    

A deep seeded truth, rock solid Shilahatta in Sanskrit.
Clothed in an enduring vesture minted Sylhet loops in
with the Hebrew Bible’s Shalet, a ruler, a shield!  

The ****** earth sways moulds into a mole.
Ah, the little drops make the mighty ocean.
And with a single word on the lips
the maestros’ great epics begin to be told.
Just with a mundane handful of earth
Primed Sylhet masterpiece begins to unfold.
Keeping you on board with the whole ball of wax
lo, it unveils the mirror of the face of the earth!

Plopped still in the inside track amidst the full show
with the whole nine yards on her least hold!
Believe it or not Sylhet is cherry-picked chosen by God!
The subject matter is about a land possessing a deeply seeded truth. The prime significance of which is its scattered afar but matches the pivotal soil of the centre of the earth!
Johnny walker Dec 2018
In the entrance to my shopping centre sit this
the lovely lady probably she most likely from a
war-torn
country
she sits rain or shines no matter what the weather she always great's everybody with a lovely smile, she sells The Big Issue
I always give her any change I have, but with It being Christmas I gave £5 she was so happy she kept saying are you sure yes I said buy yourself a warm drink
she must have frozen then I asked her If I could have hug I feeling lonely bless her she gave me three and It was lovely God bless her she's made me
Christmas
Sometimes It nice spread little love around far to much hate In the world
Chris Neilson Aug 2018
Along the bus filled corridor
from the south of the city
through the Victorian architecture
of Withington and Fallowfield
to the world food of Rusholme
with its plethora of barber shops
shoe shops, shisha bars, cafes
Philips Park and the eye hospital
then the university quarter
students like woolly hatted ants
a human tide of books and backpacks
our future professional generation
of doctors, scientists and philosophers
part time poets and musicians

Into the city centre bustle 
of hipsters and hustlers
high flyers and homeless
rough sleepers and penthouses
side by side in a sea of incongruity
The roman settlement of Castlefield
now sky scraping soulless concrete
in this original city of industry
where workers downed tools 
in cotton mills for anti-slavery 
American Civil War brethren
built on old world immigration
integrated into a working class
of blue collars, graft and toil
bones of its makers in its soil

Images of the lost industries
now decorate ornate beautiful bees
scattered in and around the urban sprawl
timely reminders of our heritage
of Northern grit in all its colours
of invention, science, sport, music and art
of protest, achievement and inspiration
a city that's historical
a city for the here and now
a city for future nascent talent
a city that's changed the world
Manchester, a city for all ages
I wrote most of this after returning from a hospital appointment earlier this year but have now added to it to bring it up to date
sara Feb 2015
if your mind is a warzone let battle commence,
i will send in my soldiers to fight

if your mind is a warzone the army i lend
will chase the demons from your mind

your mind is a warzone and as soon as i enter
there's no sound to be heard but silence

your mind is a warzone; i stand at the centre
to offer my few words of guidance

your mind is a warzone but i fall to my knees
when i see that you're under attack

your mind is a warzone, from here i can see
a mirage of tears you held back

your mind is a warzone and there in the corner
lies a pile of broken words

when it's one in the same: chaos and order
there are only whispers to be heard

if your mind is a warzone do not try to say
that you must fight this battle alone

because if your mind is a warzone then please do explain
why when i'm in it i feel like i'm home?u
the sacrifices you make for the people you love
Marta Aug 2018
Stillness and immobility
They look just the same
But one can be bliss the other is pain

The stillness arises when the tension is gone
When the tension grows immobility is born

The blessing of stillness it flies high and wide
The curse of tension pulls the mind closely tied

Stillness and immobility
They look just the same
But one can be bliss the other is pain

In the eye of a storm mighty worrier she waits
Her opponent exhausted from the forces he breaks

From the centre she moves in any direction
Her hands tied only by one thing - affection

Stillness and immobility
They look just the same
But one can be bliss the other is pain
Paul Hansford Sep 2018
Many people write a "bucket list" of things they want to do before they die.  Now in my 80th year, I don't have the time or the energy to do things that others might aim for, but I have during my life visited many places, seen many things, and enjoyed many experiences that I would have been sorry to miss. There have also been some events that I would have preferred not to experience, but which have enriched my life in different ways, and which I remember with a kind of sad affection.  
Some of these are very personal to me, and would not be interesting to most people, but read the note if you wonder why I chose them.

Here then is what I might call  
                                                My Reverse Bucket List

Towns and cities – architecture & atmosphere
   Barcelona, Spain
   Venice, Italy
   Oxford, England
   Jerusalem, Israel
   Luxor, Egypt
   Varanasi, India
   Hiroshima, Japan
   Pompeii, Italy

Other locations
   Galápagos islands, Ecuador
   Great Barrier Reef, Australia
   North Woolwich, London

Churches
   St Paul's Cathedral, London
   Sagrada Familia, Barcelona
   Coventry Cathedral
   Córdoba Cathedral, Spain
   Blue Mosque, Istanbul

Other structures
   Taj Mahal, Agra
   Auschwitz concentration camp, Poland
   Royal Festival Hall, London
   London underground system (because it was the first, and I rode it for a long time).  Also the more splendid underground railways of Mexico City and Moscow.
   Avebury Ring, Wiltshire, England (the largest prehistoric stone circle in the world, and much more primitive than Stonehenge)
   Bayeux Tapestry 
   "Angel of the North" statue, Gateshead, England
   "Christ the Redeemer" statue, Rio, Brazil

Events
   Messiah at Royal Festival Hall, Feb 1959, with the girl later to be my wife
   St John's night, Spain, early 1990s (?)
   Death and funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales, Aug 1997
   Oberammergau passion play, 2010
   Destruction of World Trade Centre, Sept 2001
I haven't added explanatory notes, but a lot of them are easy enough to look up, and if you message me about any mysterious items, I'll answer as best I can. There are poems in my stream connected with some things on the list, though not all are obvious.
ryn Sep 2014
Creature of myth, you have to be real
I know you're there, I know you exist
Can't see nor touch but indeed I feel
That should suffice to say the least

No one I know has seen this mythical creature
I stand by my beliefs... I simply just do...
This being unknown to aged texts or ancient scriptures
Allow me to document, I'll keep it true

"A magnificent neck that tapers into a head
Much like a halo, wearing a luminescent crown
Azurite for eyes like many have said
A golden mane majestically cascading down

Almond shaped face, with cheeks slightly scaled
In the centre were dimple-like nostrils
From it's mouth, a voice; demure and frail
Speaks in verses from a time frozen still

Within the cage right under its chest
I know that calmly there lay beating
A huge, magnanimous heart does rest
Embedded deep within a physique so beguiling

Its spine is perfect, as if forged by a divine mould
Limbs are long, but with gait so light
Non terrestrial wings that into nothing they fold
Stretched around is smoothened skin milky white"


That is all I have got to offer so far
Matched the words to my mind's bewitching visage
No one has seen it; thus ensured that they cannot mar
In my head will forever be etched the image

Creature of myth... Please be real
Know that I am blinded, I just want to see
Not for the others, you don't reveal
I do believe... I just need to convince me...
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