"keenest" poems
Our hearts and souls were so blessed to fast Ramadan sincerely
To be enlightened by its super mercy and extreme prosperity
purity abiding around my heart, kindling my every part
a gift from Allah came along to bless our hearts
to spread peace and love, to dig faith in each part
A blessed bounty to wipe away our tears
to zest our souls and vanish our fears
to sparkle with faith with our keenest beliefs
and twinkle light in our bright smiles
oh dear eid, you can't help it but sowing seeds of joy,
Capturing joy and happiness in every single countenance ,
of a child's enthusiastic joy kindling a thriving inner radiance
joining hearts and souls with the deepest crystals of love
revealing such a fancy artistic touch of a peaceful dove
feeling the gratitude for Allah's super merciful blessings
praying to pluck the roses of peace each single moment
pounding hearts of affliction and yearning
missing your everlasting passion getting sick of poisoning
yearning for their peaceful deliverance
to catch glimpses of happiness
that once has been hunted by a sudden death of a loving part of soul
until Allah will send a cheerful hope,
just be patience to get over all the mope
smile and share the joy of eid and love ,
work even harder to cherish the heaven above ....
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
Let those who will of friendship sing,
And to its guerdon grateful be,
But I a lyric garland bring
To crown thee, O, mine enemy!
Thanks, endless thanks, to thee I owe
For that my lifelong journey through
Thine honest hate has done for me
What love perchance had failed to do.
I had not scaled such weary heights
But that I held thy scorn in fear,
And never keenest lure might match
The subtle goading of thy sneer.
Thine anger struck from me a fire
That purged all dull content away,
Our mortal strife to me has been
Unflagging spur from day to day.
And thus, while all the world may laud
The gifts of love and loyalty,
I lay my meed of gratitude
Before thy feet, mine enemy!
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While the snow reveals its keenest love for the sun ;
Its snowflakes start to dance and it melts with blush ...
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
You ran
I ran
Faster than light,
Invisible to the keenest human eye
We ran towards the safest haven.
Almost giddy with excitement
Heart fluttering on the
Delicate wings of ecstatic butterflies
Forsaking everything behind
Just you and me
We zoomed by,
Humans and objects,
All just a mélange of colors
Hallways went by
In the blink of an eye
Not yours or mine
Just the shrewdest eye
Voices called out to us
Allies raring to join
Teachers frantic to stop
Corridors vast enough to dissolve into
Stop, came after a long, lingering voyage
Breathing in short abundant pants
We beheld the eye of each other
And in that moment
I realized we were more than partners in crime
We were, you and me
Two friends destined to be
In each other’s memory
Forever
And
Ever
And ever.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 4:26 AM UTC
When the lucent skies of morning flush with dawning rose once more,
And waves of golden glory break adown the sunrise shore,
And o'er the arch of heaven pied films of vapor float.
There's joyance and there's freedom when the fishing boats go out.
The wind is blowing freshly up from far, uncharted caves,
And sending sparkling kisses o'er the brows of ****** waves,
While routed dawn-mists shiveroh, far and fast they flee,
Pierced by the shafts of sunrise athwart the merry sea!
Behind us, fair, light-smitten hills in dappled splendor lie,
Before us the wide ocean runs to meet the limpid sky
Our hearts are full of poignant life, and care has fled afar
As sweeps the white-winged fishing fleet across the harbor bar.
[Page 35]
The sea is calling to us in a blithesome voice and free,
There's keenest rapture on its breast and boundless liberty!
Each man is master of his craft, its gleaming sails out-blown,
And far behind him on the shore a home he calls his own.
Salt is the breath of ocean slopes and fresher blows the breeze,
And swifter still each bounding keel cuts through the combing seas,
Athwart our masts the shadows of the dipping sea-gulls float,
And all the water-world's alive when the fishing boats go out.
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And now emerges white bits of sunshine;
Eyes urged to wake, and tongues to pray;
To Lord of the worlds and of nights and days;
That we be pure in the heart and mind;
Feet saileth lower amongst one another;
With such admiration that lasts forever;
Faithful heads bow and touch the pious floor;
Pearls of rewards doubling behind the door.
And His beauty is deeper than solace;
More luminous than desire and grace;
He asks for love, chastity, and firm abstinence;
He longs for faith, modesty, and true penitence.
Praises and glory are floated to Allah;
Mouths recite and phrase la ilaha illallah.
And claim their very peace upon beloved Muhammad;
With dear respect from the deepest roots of hearts.
Winds might blow and grass might be green;
But we fear still, the restless Might of the Unseen;
He who watches and renders all our affairs;
He who breathes our blood and strands of our hair;
And do fear Him and seek His Abode;
For we shall cease and retreat to our Lord;
As this earth fades, where His end starts therefrom;
And sees our deeds since we dwelled in mothers' wombs;
But Allah is ever fair, filial, and loving;
He is the Keenest, and the Most Heroic king;
He rules perfectly the East and the West;
He listens to what flows within every chest;
And He is All-Forgiving and ever Merciful;
He is swift to both the living and the dead;
He relieves tears of the believing souls;
He lives and sparks, within our very breath.
And He is but ecstatic like the rainbow;
Nothing is more countable than His tomorrow;
His Warm Hands are what we all rush for;
His Words are a poem, like never before.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 6:01 PM UTC
As a teenage boy I used to fall asleep at night
listening to the graveled voice of Ernie Harwell
fashion for me word-images of the exploits
by a band of superheroes called the Detroit Tigers.
In those semi-lucid moments before slumber,
I could see the shimmering outline of my destiny:
you see all American boys are meant to be Tigers.
So imagine my confusion, when I fractured
the right talus bone my Junior year of high school,
even putting on weight around the middle,
where no athlete worth his pin stripes would gain.
My karma had begun to take on mass.
I began to acquire knowledge, as the only perceived defense
against some parallel universe impinging upon reality.
Oh, I had everyone convinced, even my keenest teachers
believed I was destined to make my mark in scholarly pursuits.
But no one saw the crying ego of one meant to be a Tiger,
nor how that bottled up the emergence of the Man.
Never reconciled, the Man curled up in fetal dormancy.
Lifespan became synonymous with interstellar drift.
And every encountered star of knowlege was dwarfed,
having long ago collapsed of its own gravity.
Still the heavens of knowledge are auspicious,
so I looked outward, when all the answers lay concealed within.
Only as my life left the outskirts of occluded reality
did I then begin to inherit from my instinctual id,
begin to listen to disconsolate internal voices,
who had known me all along, perhaps better than myself.
The thing is ... the stage has long been set on middle-age,
what props lie about are encrusted with patina,
laden with a dust impossible to gauge or preempt,
made worse by the lack of cast, save one.
Neither Beckett, nor Pinter, could have absurded this.
So, when my acts strike you as quixotic,
when I cut with a penknife through propriety,
it's because I finally remember what it meant to be a Tiger.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 7:15 PM UTC
Thy lips of espresso gold,
Convey to me,
Your desperado untold.
Thine eyes for your own,
Merriest of forbidden
Pleasures,
To hold.
Your supple smile upon
Thine own,
Reveal.
Amidst only
To conjure,
To conceal.
Parlay, if I may,
To implore
The keenest sense
Of your fulfillment,
I adore.
Gently now, our merriment. . .
Embarking upon salutation.
No more our desire,
Of infatuation?
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 2:45 AM UTC
8
There is a word
Which bears a sword
Can pierce an armed man—
It hurls its barbed syllables
And is mute again—
But where it fell
The saved will tell
On patriotic day,
Some epauletted Brother
Gave his breath away.
Wherever runs the breathless sun—
Wherever roams the day—
There is its noiseless onset—
There is its victory!
Behold the keenest marksman!
The most accomplished shot!
Time’s sublimest target
Is a soul “forgot!”
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When the night is here ,and all the eyes are asleep
Mine refuse to close,I crave to taste your meeting
I lose myself and regret my sins
My spirit starts to mingle in faith
My soul states Allah's super vision
His miracles , His super power and holy pure love
I yearn for that special corner
which gets perfumed by my sincere tears
Yet,I yearn for it with extreme heartiness
I start yelling to His majesty ,
expressing my situations well aware that He know more than I actually do !
Keenest in my heart! I do feel His mercy
In that corner , I feel my faith's warmth
and I feel your closeness for that you're closer that the vein !
And when I gather my feelings with sacred rain
and perfume my mouth with your holy presence fragrance
I get overwhelmed with the deepest purest emotions of relaxing !
and my heart is wondering and regretting ! "how much I lost from my life like this night ! "
In your presence , Time passes sweeter than honey and prettier than roses !!
Than my tears start pouring like rains ,mixed with regret salt and happiness sugar of such moments !!
A sudden shadow sends me arrows of pain and roses of hope !
I start calling upon you with a shaking heart !
Oh my LORD ! I came with regret! I'm repenting to you !
Forgive me my lord ! I seek your mercy !
I have no one but you ! I run from you towards you !
whenever I remember a sin that I've committed !I get burned with the deepest shame and vexation !
i get melted ,I kneel and bite my fingers' nails from regret and sorrows ...
Ya Allah , you are the most beneficent , the most merciful !
please ,hear my call ,guide me to the straight path and forgive me for I'm a week slave of yours :")
Forgive me ...
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 8:22 PM UTC
He is so special
I feel it in his aura
There is something about his
Energy
That makes me want to explore him
It was a cold night
But his heart is warm
So it was only right
That his beauty is adorned
Although the cycle of perfection
Was complete
Because flaws don’t exist
for imperfections;
In his world are obsolete
How could I infer all this
From a single conversation
Nobody knows
Expect the Most High above us all
She made him a concrete rose
His value is so high
Because his existence is so real
He is somewhere in the sky
He is very conscious of how he feels
He is so special
I feel it in his aura
I only talked to him one time
And already
I want to explore him
His energy reminds me
Of Aphrodite on Venus
Love and beauty
In his heart,
His mind is the keenest
He smiles and I feel at ease
Many miles for me to feel the breeze
He is so pleasant so calm and
So free
He is everything I can see
In me
He is everything a man should be
How could I infer all this
From a single conversation
Nobody knows
Expect the Most High above us all
He made her a concrete rose
He is so special
I feel it in his Aura
I hope one day I can explore him
But this is something
That he already knew
The best part about it is
He knows I’m special too
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 4:31 AM UTC
I don't want to be a speck in this ocean of humanity.
I don't want my words to be so small and obscure that even the keenest ear, still, cannot hear.
I don't want to be tossed and kicked and shoved about, like the speck I fear I am.
The speck that floats & sweeps and glides & sighs - the speck that will never be examined.
I breathe.
I live.
I mean.
I am.
I don't want to be invisible.
---
The world is one big bustle after another - people pushing and shoving, only to sleep and repeat?
I am the one you bumped into, in a race to catch the nooner to downtown Detroit.
I am the girl you stumbled past, in your rush to catch another cab.
I am the flower girl on McKenzie who sold you more marigolds.
The waitress at PJ's who asked, "More cream?"
The cashier at Aldi's who bagged your Arizona.
I am that ticket taker at Cinemark who gave you your stub and genuinely hoped you would enjoy your movie.
I am the girl you're seated by, right now.
This instant.
So close, you can hear her soft breaths;
So close, you can nearly smell her perfume;
So close, and still...
You stand.
You gather your things, get off the train, and run off to catch another, what?
Bus? Plane? Cab?
You're gone.
And, I'm here.
And, I'm still the girl;
The girl who might have been your soulmate.
But, you traded me for 15 minutes of silence and a bed you'd sleep in alone.
---
I don't want to be a speck in this ocean that is your world.
I want to be a boulder.
I want to mean something,
And be something,
And exist to you.
So, STOP.
I'm here.
"Hello."
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 9:15 PM UTC
factions warring,
numbers dwindling.
deceptive,
lustful,
her body is the keenest weapon.
time spent in guise of enemy,
she becomes one,
is one,
has always been one.
rebel and free-thinker,
turned infiltrator,
betrayer.
seduced,
lulled,
a kiss as distraction.
a hand embracing body,
pulling her closer,
driving both weapons through the heart.
crimson stains,
life flows free,
a heretic ******
“In the name of His Ever Vigilance, this one dies alone.”
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 12:24 PM UTC
Once I bore unkempt hair,
a crown over a wondering visage.
Twas a time of smaller age,
when a had nary a care.
I was staff-bearing and sword-wielding,
princess from times of yore
and keeper of lost lore.
But my spirit could go only so long unyielding.
For there was a mask-wearing weaver
of a garish smile
who in his guile,
had made others a believer--
Of his wicked web of rampant lies.
This wretched thief of naivete
Left not a shade of perspective grey--
but black, without reprise.
What cruel beast of human shape
was cast down upon me?
And why could others not see
but merely question with mouths agape--
At the sins of which he reveled
merely for his stature?
Yet if done after
surely they would have been compelled--
To hear my pleas
and punish his evil hand!
And then at last I might command
my woe from drowning me like all the seas.
Alas, twas not
as I would hope, you see
for fate was most unkind to me
though of wrong-doing I had naught.
"But why?" I asked
"Princesses of yore, and wielders of old lore
they know happiness for ever more."
To that end I had been masked--
From the truth before my weeping eyes
that evil always has its say
even on the brightest day,
for peace is the keenest of lies.
Like he, the villains tall and small,
from fiercest orc to goblin whelp,
will always find fate's loyal help
while heroes are left to fall.
That is how it plays on the world's stage
I have learned and learned it well
that where white snow falls, somewhere else burns a hell.
And yet, perhaps this way is not a cage--
To conquer all of worldly ways,
For in my time--made wise--
I have come to see with my heart's eyes
one for whom this pattern sways.
He is a hero brave and strong
no prince and no knight
no dragon does he fight,
yet for him could be written king-worthy song.
So perhaps, the wicked do not always prevail,
not every time at least--but most--
and get their bitter dose
of a taste of what it is to fail.
Jan 12, 2012
Jan 12, 2012 at 4:17 PM UTC
I
I heard a small sad sound,
And stood awhile among the tombs around:
“Wherefore, old friends,” said I, “are you distrest,
Now, screened from life’s unrest?”
II
—”O not at being here;
But that our future second death is near;
When, with the living, memory of us numbs,
And blank oblivion comes!
III
“These, our sped ancestry,
Lie here embraced by deeper death than we;
Nor shape nor thought of theirs can you descry
With keenest backward eye.
IV
“They count as quite forgot;
They are as men who have existed not;
Theirs is a loss past loss of fitful breath;
It is the second death.
V
“We here, as yet, each day
Are blest with dear recall; as yet, can say
We hold in some soul loved continuance
Of shape and voice and glance.
VI
“But what has been will be—
First memory, then oblivion’s swallowing sea;
Like men foregone, shall we merge into those
Whose story no one knows.
VII
“For which of us could hope
To show in life that world-awakening scope
Granted the few whose memory none lets die,
But all men magnify?
VIII
“We were but Fortune’s sport;
Things true, things lovely, things of good report
We neither shunned nor sought … We see our bourne,
And seeing it we mourn.”
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Oh, you’re so cute
You think you can fix it
You think you can find a magic word
To make it **** and fly away
How about as you writhe and scream
You’re not as cute starved half to death
Shall I gorge you now
On the finest food around?
Where are your magic words now, little miss?
You’ve lost them, haven’t you
Tsk tsk
And it’s not yet poofed and flown away.
You’re no longer cute, not in the least
Do you hate the child you were?
The child whose search for magic words
Led it right into the eager maw of the world
Now you’ve given up each shred of hope
Soon I’m sure you’ll rise to my throne of taunts
But before you go, so thoroughly beaten
There’s one last little thing I must tell you.
There was a word
It was there all along
The abracadabra you sought for so long
Now!
Away to your kingdom of torture and lies
I know you’ll enjoy it, as I have mine
And remember that word that you’ll never find
For it will inflict on your subjects the keenest pain they’ll ever know.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 6:27 PM UTC
When I'm with you !
My heart wanders in an endless horizon
Dancing between the clouds
Smiling with the colorful butterflies ...
Your tears glow in the deepest worlds
Of your astonishing glitter mysterious eyes ...
Pouring piles of inspiration on your blushed cheeks ...
Your eyelashes reveal such a harmonically merry symphony ...
Such a luster and radiance spread all over my heart
Once my eyes meet yours and staring in rhyme ...
Your sights create such a fascinating art
Overwhelming me with your love and slender kindness ...
Your love is a special aromatic fragrance
A fascinating scent
Spreading all over my heart's secret gardens
Reveals a special feeling
Knocks the keenest gleam of your honest sincere innocent heart ...
So grateful is my current state ,
Finding such an ideal soul mate ...
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
PEREGRINE
Swiftest falcon wings
keenest sight from highest heights
sky-diving arrow.
SWALLOWS
Raindrops' graceful plumes
swift wisps and springs arriving
two tail brothers' breeze.
CROW
Observant shadow
pies memorizing faces;
jet sharp reaper waits...
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 6:11 PM UTC
She knew so well, she was broken
Grazed by the dark episodes of her life
But for a reason not well spoken
She bottles up her pretty lies.
Too soon, oh Heaven. How do I despair?
Should You becalm the sea, why not seemingly fair?
Questions and tempest, in just a minute stare
All, in a trice, turned out as an awful nightmare
Hovering over the memories, hearts are still in pain
Tears are carefully hidden, sore wounds she'd rather feign.
I knew I wasn't dreaming, but for once I'd like to know.
Can we still dream much further despite a losing show?
Such a lax image, she tends to portray
Religiously, so patiently, she never goes astray
At the darkest edges of her discernible universe
Beyond our keenest senses, she buries a pitch black curse.
Shame on me, my steadfast wishes, I can hardly collect.
Another revolution yet; oh, how do I deflect?
Like a western avalanche, her days came rolling by
As if they're going out of hand, over her head, we can testify
She can just give up, or give another shot, no one seems to know
But in her mind, she knows just why she was there all from the word go.
I know to whom I shall only concede, never to a ruthless battle.
Disjoint, unarmed, I could always be; but my faith, no one can throttle.
And so the tale of this one staunch damsel never ended wrong
She might have had some tough good byes, but that made her strong
Cropping out the tragedy from the frame, she tries to recover from drama
Star-crossed, perhaps, but not til she stops becoming the one tough Andrea.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
Sometimes I get this special mysterious feeling ,
Sourced from the bottom of my heart
And spread all over my hand ...
That feeling of the keenest need for writing
Yes , I need to hold that pen and start toying with words ,
Pouring them all over that blank page ...
Words start spreading like never before
Their letters dancing gently
Following the inspiring trills of my heart beats
Drawing fascinating picturesque lines
Waiting to be born once they are read ...
Filling one blank page after the other
Seeing the infinite universe opening in my sight
Thoughts running ,
Words laughing,
In the terrific nature's gleam and radiance
Prevailing such a flimsy slender touch of art ...
Need to be drawn, need to be felt
Spreading light , inspiring hearts
But if I don't hurry !!
They will soon loose their power
And I'll loose my super feeling ....
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
Stepping up to the edge of the ledge
Looking down in a blurry haze even the keenest eyes of the purest soul went blind
A macabre recollection of what was to become the destruction of an innocent child
Her world on the verge
I look to my left I see the condesending grimaces of the people I once loved long since dead with the innocent Child that once was
To my right the shadowed distorted almost faceless lovers of life
seeking comfort in the lie just to feel alive
Morbid smile of the creator
Unforgiving mother
Screams her wounding words
A lullaby filled with atrocious lies
Her world on the brink
Unforgiving mother with her whip
Morbid smiles
On trial for a thing called "love"
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 1:44 AM UTC
They doused the lamps
and sent the realm into darkness.
The purest black we did ever see.
No street, nor home, nor lovers eye burnt.
Nor did the stars or the keenest minds
For they both shone dark.
And the realm sat hushed-
Silent and revered
Round the patter of words
that came as rain.
As the beat of rain
came as poetry.
And the realm sat round
the new fire.
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 11:11 AM UTC
you’ve been nice
you’ve heard me sing
and you’ve offered praise
for what you like
(and ignored me for what you don't)
But you mustn’t think
you’ve heard me deep
or you’ve known me now
For it’s always
someone else singing
depending whose voice was last heard
whose blade keenest, whose skills superior
who has fingers extending from the murky past
You’ve been nice
you’ve heard me sing
but you mustn’t let me convince you
no matter how hard I try
it’s me you hear
for I’m just a valley of echoes
(are we not all?)
and a scarecrow over which linger
vultures and such scavengers
never a thought of mine
not an emotion of mine
is the subject of my song
but the words generations have spun
to make myths and radiant lies
that I can sing, and you can acquiesce
I’m just the voice of conditioning
And you too, as you listen and concur
we are but
our conditionings singing
it’s the past singing
it’s not me
it’s not you
though you put a face to it
and we put our names to it
you’ve been nice
you’ve heard me sing
and you’ve offered praise
for what you like
(and ignored me when you don't)
but you mustn’t think
you’ve heard me deep
or you’ve known me now
for it’s always
someone else singing
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 8:30 AM UTC
Awash
The human spirit defined without a thread to cover their exposed heart loss the keenest revealer
Nobility crowns the vanquished they have been driven to the farthest bounds of reason
Emptiness has scoured the former land of all existence they stand on the pinnacle they have
Reached the zenith of life’s meaning by going to it unspeakable depths every speck of turgid
Normalcy so prized gives way to anticline these rarefied heights know not one profane molecule
Those lost flew to this point and beyond you followed and now you gaze after them your longing
Presents never before known opportunity into this vacuum rushes the budding of purist riches
Your life has lost their human presence but you now start the decent marked by sorrow,
Loneliness, but with these two painful strangers you have become the wealthiest of human kind
Love is the only container that could rightly hold their essence you are given this charge and on
These slopes you just turned from their departure and its glory indefinable crowned you burned
All impurities up and now the pure raging fire has subsided you see the incorruptible seeds you
are now to plant as sure footed as the Doll sheep go now intersperse them among these heights
that predate the dawning of time your fellow man waste away looking at the plains and empty
Horizon these seeds out of time and personnel loss will dazzle give the influx of immortal
Thoughts that will destroy a people’s delusional limited harvest and give them the spring board
Of freedom to achieve dreams that before were believed to be impossible this is what I saw in
Your tear filled eyes not an end but the birth of hope mother and father and the girls didn’t die in
Vain they are the truth shinning as a vision all we have to do is look
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 6:37 AM UTC
The red string, a thread so delicate it escapes even the keenest eye, yet so unyielding it binds two souls as one. It stretches through time and space, weaving effortlessly through obstacles in its path. Silent and unseen, it guides a journey meant to be traveled, connecting hearts despite life’s chaos. No matter how far it’s pulled or how tangled it becomes, it never breaks. I’ve brought scissors to mine, once even a knife, tired of the chase, weary from the search. But the thread remains intact, defying every attempt to sever it. It holds fast, enduring the weight of dreams whispered into the night and the long sighs of defeat. Even as my hands tremble, losing their grip, the string stays, steadfast, showing me the way. It unravels knots tied by false connections and leads me back to the path I strayed from. It holds the hands that are destined to find one another, unseen but unbreakable. A love so patient, it waits for its moment to be discovered. So I’ll trust its pull, follow its silent call, and hope it’s leading me to you. Are our red strings intertwined? Do they lead us to each other?
Jan 6, 2025
Jan 6, 2025 at 4:39 PM UTC