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.
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
It’s a coloured and shaded broad daylight.
Bring me my hourglass, my paintbrush.
Keeping a timepiece, how soon my brush
strokes become finer it is not the task.
Try once more, strike a fine chord in time,
ever ticking but doesn't make a sound!  

Let’s read the small prints, the shadow lines
on the pitch of the slit sun shines!
A dark spot in the light, some dotted lines
on a blank paper, however witty you might
describe it, count on the tweeting birds
short and cute, singing in the open air.

Light and dark the two tallies, ins and outs.
The times come and go, flowing fine.
For now, let’s take a look inside.
Tint and shade nor tone them now.
Zoom in and out, just watch them as they are.

This cool sleek shade on the sunny slate
is it a shadow, or some quivering curly hairs
or are these reflections of flocking clouds,
diligent sea eyeing deep down on the ground?
Read the small prints, shadows in the daylight,
before the show is wrapped up.
And down the evening pool, the sun
parts away with the black swan.
Doing a dance,
to wear a mask,
To play a game that you can’t stomach...
Just so that the truth doesn’t have to face you,
The way you recoil from reflections of yourself.

You’d forsake your happiness, your health —
                                                               ­                You would burn it all.

To do a dance, to wear a mask
To play a game you’ll always lose.
To look in a mirror...
To tell an image that it’s anything but you.

But it's in that moment that you'll find
you tell the unfamiliar truth.
As you bleed and feed your own obliterated youth...

To feel, and then
                          to lose —
Just like the loss you always knew
                          you’d find in disappointment.
Like an unholy anointment
                          of your least desirable possessions
That retire from the heavens
                          Back to you.

To betray, and to amuse
The ides of irony rejoice!
For they’ve found their lamb... or
their ever-dying muse.

Forsaking life itself, you clamor
To see others just like you.

Maybe one day one will choose
           the path that you can’t leave,
As it reciprocates to thee —
            Two partners in misery, fated to excuse
the waste of each other...
            until they find there’s nothing left.

To feel the flame within its breathe consumed.

Wearing a mask,
To die a death,
To to live the lie,
Whose dance you six-times misstep
And on the seventh, betrays you.

Kaitlin Evers Jan 2017
Driven and persistent
When a girl, I was undaunted
On acting I was insistent
By the stage I was haunted

A mere ingénue
At the odds I did laugh
Until the day that I withdrew
Now that ingenue lay neath an epitaph

To myself I was untrue
Now turn back to dreams
I must pursue

Lo, I am rebuilding
Her broken spirit within
Already she is healing
Anon let the journey begin again
writerReader Aug 2015
Sometimes inspiration finds me
at night
Love and words flow everything
sounds different at night
with the
shadow of the day
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2017
It’s a garden I saw
one propels within oneself
there was no shadow.
I saw starry rows lining up
in broad daylight, I was stunned
Yes, stars in the broad daylight!

Here I see the sun up on the high  
and the full moon in the night.
But here they weren’t
needed in the fair fare!
Umi Mar 18
Of ones heart with shadows lurking to take over spite is made precious to be felt exciting while it is in fact trecious, but a sleeping terror awakens at times as well, thus a rampage is made amongst it,
A thrill wandering down your spine when you wrong someone and see them tremble through your actions a cold shiver followed by spite
Choosing a carefree life, yet unable to hide the fact that no spark would be able to illuminate whats in your dark, where angels fear to tread, only to explore this loitering abyss within you for some time,
All this blood lust must bring you to insanity, make you a lunatic,
But let it happen, in this emotionless shell it's what feels majestic,
The storm raging inside, waiting to feed on this caused chaos,
Evil and vile, heartless not carrying a smile while mercilessly continuing this riot of a resented soul waiting, longing for destruction
Feeling alike to be burning up, priceless about this act of cruelty until the wanted realisation drives its way into your soul and you question yourself what you have done, or why you have done it for anyway,
But the time will come again for sure, so be ready for it to arrive
When the sleeping terror awakens for another dance

~ Umi
Shofi Ahmed Jul 14
Mortal earth is a shadow
nothing lasts here evermore.
The inside is a complete hollow.
Everyone takes a turn sway not
360-degree it’s a flute!
Larri Aug 3
I refuse to leave you.
But how am I supposed to follow my own shadow?
Doesn't that mean turning my back to the sun?
Denying all that I need and want just to follow you?
If you are what makes me who I am.
Then I have no choice.
Sorry about typos I'll fix them later when I can get to my computer.
Lydia Jul 18
It forever walks behind me
It is always at my side
And even if I wanted to
There is no where that I can hide
It follows in my footsteps
Watching every move that I make
It’s there for all my happiness
But witnesses all my mistakes
It holds my hand when it is needed
It will never leave me be
But even when I wish to be alone
It will not take leave of me
When fear grips at my beating heart
And my eyes are filled with tears
It will grip me tight and hold me fast
Until my path is crystal clear
As I stumble down a hazy road
And try to keep from falling
And brush off all the little bugs
And try to stop my skin from crawling
No matter how I plead with it
It seems you cannot see
No matter how I beg of it
It will not let me be
So perhaps I must succumb to love
And accept that I cannot be rid of it
So I will have to carry on anyway
And maybe it will be for my benefit
So I will not snatch my hand away
And there is nothing to be scared of
Because I know it will be there for me
My precious shadow that is called love
In a wakeful contradiction, it lays fact between my fiction,
Tangling subatomics, it unravels as its tricks spin
deeper toward the outward...
                         it won’t let up, 'til I give in.

Over matter, lay my mind…
I tell a lie to pass the time...
But there’s no reason nor a rhyme --
                                      Less still, a purpose?
I search for something to remind my mind
                                      that there’s truth that isn’t worthless…

But as always, failure appears;
                                        in a sort-of amnesic continuity.
And my reality lies to my own mind
just as well as it succeeds in its futility.
With destruction as its manifest,
It tells me that I stand my tallest
                                       Upon two buckled knees.

Just as faith will find one’s doubt --
                           a search within has left without.
It seems that an answer, once sought out,
                          will be left lacking its question.

My truth divides itself, as a product of infinite misdirection.

I try to substitute a reason for a rhyme.
But with no lies left to pass the time...
                                                                 I swallow a dose of ignorance.
                                                       It goes down smoother than the truth.

A war that started with a truce,
This world betrayed my faith to show me
                                                            That I'm only tall enough
                                                            Once I’ve been cut down slowly.

Like a pill too large to swallow, I think I’m choking on myself . . .
Or the irony of asking, “How could I be so careless?”
Here I stand, Barely standing,
                   Consumed almost entirely
                              By my own dry-heaving self-awareness...

Left to fight the fears that my nightmares create
I’m still running from my past, yet haunted by my fate.
                      They walk beside me always, shadowing wholeheartedly —
                      Existing as a duality, both apart from, and a part of me.

These ghosts have taught me very little...
                                    Aside from what I hate.
But, I've come to learn not to fear
                                    The forceful hands of fate.
For I shudder not at the thought of destiny,
                                    Or the inevitable in time...
Instead, I fear the eventuality
                                    of the choices that were solely, and entirely, mine.

I fear that my will may be of enough influence, alone...
That fate itself may collapse beneath decisions like my own.
                                                   Or that I, myself, might be constructing
                                                                      What destruction I will find,
                                            Among my shattered spirits and convictions,
                                                                In these depths to which I climb.

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