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Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
I
A flower that smells of pure bliss keeps an ear to the ground
It's a serene one sitting beneath the stars down on earth
The moon, far, far, seven seas away, loves to drop into her lap.

The Bay of Bengal billows, music has gotten beneath the skin.
The leaves furl out off the deep wood with the birds
singing out to the top of the trees, rhyming with the leafy dance.
Heavensent, that was in one sanguine day in the spring.
The Mother’s Language Movement in 1952 sprouted like this
on the eighth of native Falgun month—oh magic did it unleash!

On that day our beloved brothers were shot dead
They could swallow the bullets with smiles but won’t give up
demanding the official status for the Bangla mother tongue.
Angels wrapped round the martyrs amid lamenting mothers
Laid them on Falgun’s perfumed ground bleeding corpses
Seas of roses bloomed and blew them out red, red kisses!

They are gone not the stone wall of consciousness they raised
Ah, at the sprout of the spring what were they echoing?
Ingrained deep in the soil the pre-designing voice in the planning?
Who can tell? The world gels on February 21 in celebrating!

The angels then snapped up our martyrs’ souls off the land,
placed them on a piece of Heaven where they can hear the jingle.
Down on earth, a nation springs up, has gotten its wake up call!
Stepping on the sweetening arc of the mother tongue melody
the stone turns a flower, all in a butterfly moment soaring to victory.
Thanks to the movement - Bangladesh itself later comes to be!

II
The sun comes down to the rose painting on the land
In the heavenly Falgun hues it nibbles some wild summer dreams.
“Serene songs of earth stirring the water,” like it comes into play,
rowing the cloud bubbles singing in southern breeze.
Ah, a walk on the sun-kissed kaleidoscope land is a pure bliss.  
Every blossom spray of the wind is soothing sweet
Hop on and play straight to the ruby heart, as if it's a flute.

Mother tongue means speak free, fearless, in full streaming.
Speak the heart to the world without the fear of losing the cloud
that will listen, bouncing back on the brink of the sky river.
Then what did one say, hear, or was awed by in the blooming Falgun?
Could it have been the spring humming in her native lingua
or King David singing in mother tongue by babbling brooks
what in any other language, even with a silver tongue, isn’t possible?

Allah has listened to our martyrs’ crying mothers and fathers
The martyrs’ souls whisk through the galaxies and starry fair.

Soar high over the clouds, take the rainbow's *** of gold away,
Like a hue turns 360-degree in the colourwheel bask into the colour.
Still, dip the toes in Bangla mother’s soil salted with perfumed art
Like Himalayan water swirling down melting deeper deep down
This magicland is polished for everyone be it you, a fairy, a star
or off the ploughed-out barrow a walked out wonder!

A pristine voice duo’s voiceprint gleans to the spring in muse,
Pops in a beauteous scurry and speaks in the mother tongue!
Hidden within the earthy depth, only emerges with time,
only dances in tangent, that day slipped out with the butterflies.
And finally the blue nymphs take the plunge drop down the sky  
That day the mother’s voice triumphed, whose is the most original!
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2018
The world is small even heaven isn't big.
But an uncreated Word is,
an expression of love and promise!

The tale of the beginning
the tale of the end without the ending.
Soon God said it 'Qun' be
Bang it couldn't be bigger indeed.

Everything small and big the complete
creations panache came to be so big!
Body is small the soul came in the front.
Every soul banged explored at once.
All heard the same Word it was only one
that sets the tone for the first to the last.
So sweet it took everyone’s heart!

The death wouldn’t touch the soul
that already died but couldn’t die.
Revived there and then instantly,
hearing the 'Qun' the uncreated melody!
Crooned up even through the dead-end
surged up to the other side of the black hole.
Like a waxing Moon passed over, crossing
the asleep body in the shadow, yet in the making!

Adam was yet to be in the body.
It wasn’t in the physical element
that by no means could hear it!
Unlike the abyss soul there
the sea can take a dip.
The cloud spills and rains
but only to revert back to the sea
showering the shallow body.

Unable to resist it, the first big bang
didn’t take place in a physical body!
Not in the star, milky way or in the galaxy
nor an orb is as scientific as the human body!

He said ‘Qun’ again and the first big bang
on the matter takes place in Fathima’s joint
interlacing her live soul and pre-design body!
It cut through the irrational pi in between
the soul and body now gel in melody!
So that the grand manifestation in bloom
shall continue to resonate perpetuating the body.
With pure love without a condition without a boundary.

Nature that was yet to be, gets a mirror in its entirety.
and bang big upon hearing ‘Qun’ be, says the Almighty.
It comes to be and shall perish only to be an eternal body!
Chris Neilson Apr 2016
Longing for the taste of a new lover's lips
gazing upon their silhouette as they undress
craving the scent of their freshly showered skin
aching for the touch of their gentle caress

Hearing their partner's key in the door
I hope you didn't expect that!
MicMag Jul 2018
I've witnessed a beauty
I can't describe
That speaks to my soul
As it swims through my eyes
The silent sounds
Sneak into my mind
The taste lingers on
Leaving sweetness behind
The scent creeps up
To slowly remind
Of the touch that once felt
Makes all else fade
Til only your beauty
Pure beauty remains

There's nothing else
Your beauty remains
Old found poem.
King Panda Nov 2017
tenderness leaves
my eyes in capillary ribbons.
your diamond lips are chalked,
released from rock.
your head, a knot of angel pine—
a dark-brown blooming
sticky and lucked to the back
of my throat.
it is in this moment that
I hear a wisp of rapture
blowing through the oak overhead.
my heart’s motor cranked
like October’s last churning
bumble bee.
pollination
susurration
be gone…

you kept looking past me,
your hand on my shoulder.
the precious gauze of your profile
mixed porcelain doll and found a
chisel to perfect your nose.
I feel the love of everything and
you—so unaware of your
beautiful.
my lipstick
on the mirror

stretch fingertips
toward truest feels

jar the numb

as I smear
the color me
from wrought fists
wringing heart

cheerleading
through conjoined
memoir dreamscapes
forged with helix lips

spinning ourglass
to shift the sands

while I stifle
these cries
steeped
in stab

for the
greatest good
Judypatooote May 2015
MAMA CAN YOU HEAR ME?
I'm telling you I love you,
and thank you for all the
loving things you did for me...

MAMA CAN YOU HEAR ME?
You were a mom who always
put me first.
I didn't realize it them...

MAMA CAN YOU HEAR ME?
I want to call you and say
go to the basement,
a storm is coming...

MAMA CAN YOU HEAR ME?
What is that recipe
for plum cake?
Oh and also the tomato pudding...

MAMA CAN YOU HEAR ME?
Thank you for being such
a wonderful grandma to
my children...

MAMA CAN YOU HEAR ME?
HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!
I miss you oh so much...

~~~
by ~ judy
A Mother's Day poem I wrote last year, to a mother who was so special and put first...
Invisible Jul 2018
I can hear their whispers
Even when they think I can't
The rumours they spread
The lies they tell

It keeps on going on
And on
And on
I can't make it stop
It won't stop
It's driving me insane

But it's all that I hear

I see them looking at me with disgust
Because of the way I dress
They give me titles all day, everyday
Because of my intellect

It can go on
And on
And on
For as long as it wants
It may drive me insane
But I couldn’t care less

Even if it’s all that I hear
I talk softly to not be heard,
Please God’s ears hear these words.
Be my guardian and watch my day,
Be with me at night and never stray.
The slightest hint of your presence gives me strength;
To hold my head up high to escape life’s stench,
I’m in a nightmare of the world…
I can’t be woken by a pinch.
Monsters are everywhere…some with Angel faces,
Trying hard to steer my tongue…
far away from my Graces.
I talk softly to not be heard,
Please God’s ears hear these words.
I’m like prey…there’s many wolves…they all want a piece,
Speaking loud would cause attention…
And have Evil notice me.
Alone I can’t survive…
I need your love to cover me.
I talk softly to not be heard,
Please God’s ears hear these words.
When you are with me…
I fear no tomorrow;
I can raise my voice to all Pain and Sorrow,
And give thanks to my Lord for the time let borrowed.
Now I feel you with me…I can feel the surge;
I feel the need…I must be heard,
Evil ears must hear these words.
I’m no longer the prey...I will not sit and hide;
I will stand my ground and pull deep from inside,
The power of God and see the world's beautiful side.
Thank you for reading
sofie Dec 2018
can you hear me
when I talk to the moon at night,
wishing you were doing the same

this is the time I need you to listen;
listen to my heart, calling your name
loveless Jul 2016
"How will you show me your world? I am blind."

"Hear me. How do I sound like?"

"I'd say your voice is just like a nightingale. Full of love. Like an angel."

"How do I smell like?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Go on."

"Your smell... It's... addicting to be honest. Like a flower that is in a garden but its smell is so unique."

"Touch me. How do I feel like?"

"Your skin so soft. Softer than a petal of rose. Cheeks like a baby. I can imagine your blue eyes looking at me right now. You feel really beautiful."

"You don't need to see from your eyes to see my world."
A talk between two, a blind boy and a girl.
Brianne Rose Feb 2015
Hear me and listen well,
Far Far from Heaven have you fell,
On wings, torn and strewn,
Slowly but surely, together again they can be sewn,
And back up in the Heaven you shall fly,
With all the Angels in the sky
just a random i made, Enjoy!
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