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Umi May 2018
Bidding farewell to the warmth,
The bells of a spring path ring, to the sound of the wind,
Which has once again, crossed the stream of time, as it usually does,
The transience of the day, already lost due time, the sun remains as a traveler, whom appears to have crossed the Zenith again,
It's scorching heat is to be felt, exposed to it almost as if it was to be to set the skin ablaze, truly these sunrays, are unforgiving at this time,
Sorrow and misery, are to burn into ash by this heat, a purifying flame of affectionate happiness, embracing those who have found themselves to be in love with the natural, decending, light,
Beyond the boundaries, the mystery of our living power remains unknown, all what is left is a spark in the dark, beyond the sunshine,
The evening welcoming this world is soon to be radiating in joyful light, wandering aimlessly the time for the sunset draws near,
Beyond the Zenith, lies the transience of the passing time.


~ Umi
Under a summer sky of pink-and-blue pastel
you let down your rich auburn hair; freeing it
to cascade over lush green grass. As we lay there
you looked past the crassness of my eager face
into my adoring heart; then, you closed those stunning
hazel eyes and surrendered. A warm breeze strongly
scented with floral perfume, intimately caressed
our bodies. Shamefully inviting were your lips;
soft, cherry-wine sweet. Delicious were the emotions
shaking us. It was not merely a good kiss or, even
a great kiss--it was, my lost love
The Kiss.
Ciel Noir Aug 2018
I look up
To a soft and smoky sky
Single shining star
Shofi Ahmed Nov 2017
Far and near
they are two stars
rose in the same orbit.

One shows up is a
dazzling shimmering sun.
One is so polished fine
as if the zenith is
zipped in zero bytes.

No grave can grasp
it in the end.
It has no end, no size
zero left to demise.

An ocean is no more
now is only a drop.
Now the ocean
is in a drop.

Still on the ground
walking the walk
but those giant feet
do not show up!

Can we hear it bending
the ear on the ground?
The orbits on the go
with the sun on the top
pile into the vibration within
only to float up a notch
then bends down once more.
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 the Ascending.
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
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 more 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!
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2018
The material body was yet in the making
The first and foremost luminary feminine
ebb and flow heartily pans out
flawless flow to the finest angle.
Across the nadir to the zenith
Fathima eyes on upon it like it
shapes and forms are waxing lyrical:
The pure masterpiece without a mirror!

Arts on the go Fathima moves on.
Praise be to the Lord she being made
to measure inborn mathematical the pi is her!
(For the perfect circle the circumference is masculine
The pi tends to circle the blank space within is feminine)
She can budge equally in the shadow
in patternless pi decimals and in the open,
in integer into a whole full number!

Hops up her first step she looks for ‘the all’
the complete whole the absolute one Allah.
Time and again she steps up but finds no floor
Her measured step by default lays on 360-degree circle
Scans all things at the first go still finds no bottom!

The first luminary masculine peace be upon him
first looks in the open she takes the veiled angle.
Through the evermore pi decimal micro-hole
She looks on and witnesses the first water drop
surfaces up without a base without a roof on top!
It follows through truly the copy of the original
softly springing around the serene water paints  
of all the maters to be created from this first drop.
Fathima looks at it and veils withdraws her reflection.

It’s still remembered in the sky that follows suit.  
First, a star was born stepping in Fathima’s shoe.
It tried so did the full set of galaxy only to disperse
into a profound constellation never finds a bottom.
Cause amidst this water circle floats the first soil.
Allah called it His house that He first created from it.
Every planetary orb pilgrimage around it in the core
known as Ka’abah up to the heart of the earth it rose.

In the pre-designed world after the first masculine
the first feminine Fathima thus did the first pilgrimage.
She walked the walk did so in the patternless pi veil.

Nature is never uneven on the hidden hand of the pi.
Every little fraction, the small decimal does it count
connects to the dot without showing up a pattern!
Long live, long live the digital charisma is on the rise.

Retracing time and again the sun rises in the median lane,
yet the black box scores it's only a dark chart at the end of the day!
The Moon is yet to moon over an unturned sublunary-dip
It pulls all, the mighty sea that the earth can't
and sync in the feminine water cycle but save only one
with Fathima floating out of the box it can’t link up!

Like millions, ever wonder where Fathima’s grave is?
The earth strived too to the death bite to print her footprint!
Most of the mass visiting Medina look too see the grave of the holy lady Fathima. It has been a 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. Reportedly she wanted her grave to remain unidentified.
Yaser Jan 2018
Some nights
under the frightful gaze of the waning gibbous eye -
that looks upon the sleepers and dwellers of the shadow;  
when the murky ever unfolding eternities above
reach their eerie zenith
and the only sound to be chanced upon by the walkers of the dark is the song of the straying whip-poor-will;
something calls out to me from that stygian infinity
with formless primeval words
that scratch away at the walls that encase the mind, ever so brittle

What does it want?
What does it want?
What does it want!
                                                       - An excerpt from the Memoirs of
                                                              Ab­d' Alhazred
Here is a short piece I wrote inspired by the works of HP Lovecraft
King Panda Aug 2016
the tiles that encompass me
are falling like dominos
this is blackness at its zenith and
I have a coneful
lucky me
it’s like the summer of ‘96
all over again
and my friend’s dad jumped
in front of a coal train
we ate ice cream that day
in the dank Minnesotan heat
everyone was dripping
the mosquitoes were flocking in
green cloud
ignite
flame
ignite

and the crunch of bones
like this water falling on my shoulders
wash
wash
again

the sticky syrup from my chin and
poor Dane’s pants smell and there is
**** pooling at his ankles
enjoy this chocolate-dipped cone
or possibly this one with
patriotic sprinkles
no
I think I’ll pass
I’m watching my ten-year-old figure
you see this paunch?
it is my heart
it is so fat and ****
take it from me, god
enjoy it on top of your
sundae
I always looked better red-chested
anyway
Kurt Carman Jun 2016
Memaw & Pepaw ..Mason Dixon Saturday night,
Just sippin' muscadine wine by the Tennessee moonlight
Rockin' chairs...Zenith Black and White
Roy, Buck, Minnie Pearl a Hee Haw delight.

Crickets a chirpin' and a Frogs a croakin'
Toe tapin' rhythm's got em all in motion.
Corn fields swaying like a metronome
Watching those two dance to cotton eye Joe!

Sunday mornings best at the Church of Christ,
Me, I'm Thinkin' bout Memaws country gravy, my fav-o-rite!
Fried Chicken, taters, eggs sunny side right,
These are the memories I like to recite.
I sure do miss you both. Hoeing okra and and mustered greens on Sunday afternoon. That **** rooster Ichabod having his way with those Rhode Island Red hens as Cecil and I laughed our ***** off. Making a sign for your hen house that read "Martins Chicken Hilton" and the day you died doing what you loved. I know your out there Cecil and Drewetta. I'll see you someday soon!
L B Jan 2018
To love
you must find
where light convenes at daybreak
brooding

You must search
beyond impending greenery
assertive lace and pirate flower

Below the clouds of spring
that can’t—
be seriously taken

Behind time’s betrayal
where vined lattice
cages fragments of a smile

Why sophisticate such sense?

Far more to the extent
of will and heart extended
taste is answered
unaware
of when the sweet was gone

For presence is!
when savored sources—linger
...in their endings
known—and not resigned

Melted...quiescent...priestly moment

It’s not Zenith!
but Twilight

who drops her eyes!

To love
you must—
must love

beyond...below...behind
Bryce Feb 2018
Darling you know i love it when you play the black chords
Let them echo through the house for a long minutes time
and show me the god in your fingertips

a lover's hand you have with that percussive beat
rumble those strings with a heavy heart
give the dead ivory a taste of your lip

the ecstasy, the thrill
the trill and timbre
the infantile touch of a player's soul
strumming through that sweet sound

It is my youth, my zenith, my dying wish
my every happiness

to hear your musical singing string,
'till the very end.
Gray Ndiaye Jul 29
no good at taking criticism
not because i am perfect
only because my efforts
are worth it
i possess a fortitude
that is quiet yet vigorous
seemingly passive
when in fact i am passionate
incredibly willing
to go the distance
pursuing the desires
of my heart
with a herculean
durability
that is the envy
of many
let me be
for you will see
i am giving up a lot
the unnecessary
in order to be free
palladia May 2014
[northern hemisphere: on a beach above the 50th latitude at the end of winter]

(Winter-export), the beach frosted by fingers of polar constellations. It’s too cold to walk without huddling now, spine-shiver-esque, but we do it nonetheless, because, we’re together. Your frothy hydro-rhythm spears in pith, irradiance, I breathe again, deeply. (Thick lips; quick still-hunt.) I rivet fronds of dependence into the seams of your boreal palms, never planning to return the floating colony of barnacles I promised you I’d throw back. You, never planning to catch the sun bored through salt spray, lasping onto crisp foreheads, stitching on glistered lips and froze-shut lashes. And on a day when you didn’t rise early enough, I was left out in the water until my chest was steeped deep in ice, over the thought of losing you. (Glimmering isle); my hair disheveled in sea-foam. Annular light. You pushed me in, and I relented. My isotherm is chthonically, sent. But you, in your legendary mantle, adapted my eyes to see the light hidden deep within your belt; such pinks and fuchsias I have never seen before, suddenly inverted. At absolute velocity, I cut my foot on sea-glass, bleeding blueshift, aligning to the colours of your heights. You take me back to the starry house and we struggle with your parallax, a nadir inseminated on the celestial pole. (Parsecs quaking.) You whisper, I’ll heal you. I’ll heal you, only if you let me. Only if… you let me…  Over and over and over until it’s as mundane as the crashing coast, and unrivaled, I concede to everything and wake up deep in redshift, the whole universe escaping me, suffocating in abyssal warmth-ribbons: without you. Alone on the ecliptic. In the spring-sinking, you order me an argent-laden sword: to remind me of you. I know you still appear, a guardian behind the sun, but until you fling the tiny ice-hot rocks at the zenith (freighting gemstones), I submerge myself into the bathic depths, skulking in aestival despair, as you slip from night to day. Little do you know, my resurgence is also in your hands.

[i watched Orion slip from view every night this spring. No doubt he’ll return next winter... it’s sad losing a friend like that, for so long]
You can't grow
By erasing someone,
You might reach the top
But his curse cannot be ridden.

You might reach the sky
But you can't be proud of it
For when they will discuss your success
They will also implore the grave of his failure.

You might reach the zenith one day
But your name will always fight with his
He may have lost in oblivion
But your bad name will never let him perish..!!

Don't be blind for your success
But try and be humble
You never know your future
But history witnesses all!

As one day,

When you will become history
People will decipher your life
The goods will be forgotten
The wrongs will be highlighted.
Written with the thought when one try to pull someone down to reach the top.
Umi Apr 2018
Summer sun, lots of fun, let's go to the beach,
The moon tonight will be warm with light a border does not breach,
The wind carries dust along, rust adorns some iron, lets sing a song!
Birds and bees, fly through some leafs of the happy blossoming trees,
This time to come, as spring moved along, worth looking forward to
Oh little cloud, are you coming in a crowd ? The sky begins to darken,
A thunderstorm with many lightnings, harken to their voice,
Growling loud and ominous, it's not like you would have a choice,
Once this heaven clears up, the scene will shine brightly,
Like the sun, gone beyond the zenith simple yet lightly,
Lose yourself in the wandering fragnance nature offers you,
Once you're back, your back will crack by the work you do,
Wishing to have cherished moments of such joy to an further extend,
Time is some wealth everyone possesses yet you should not pretend,
to have plenty of it when it is running out and coming to an end,
Let's enjoy the summer sun, together as long as we can,
Doesn't this sound like a good plan ?

~ Umi
Umi Jun 2018
The sun was shining,
Pitch black, sending out rays of misery in a blinded realm of self hatred, casting a shadow even darker to trail a clear record.
A sun of darkness, made out of despair, casts it's light before the zenith, a day like any other, tiring, exhausting and frustrating.
The phantoms of the past linger around the streets, seemingly not noticing anything, the lack of light nor the constant agony this brings,
Perhaps it was just my sight, which tricked me into seeing everything as it was and thus the others hadn't noticed but a single, little thing.
I hide my truth behind a curtain of both a smile and a fake cheerful mood, put up with the last strengh my worn out fighting spirit has.
Once upon a love, the mornign glow used to be more than a sunrise,
It's brilliance unmatched, almost roaring as it illuminated the atmosphere while we were watching this scene unfold with awe!
This is how it should be, nothing more.
But when I knew the meaning of love you were already gone,
Dragged away by the chains of fate lead by time and left me as the sun was about to set and never truly come back as usual, darling.
You were my light.

~ Umi
jane taylor May 2016
the end is now in sight
terror comes encroaching
don’t let the perilous dusk
douse the flame that leads you

the dream inside you burns
yet darkness wants to dim it
when you want to quit
hear the summit calling

and when’s the sky’s sunlit
and faith is at its brightest
the blackness strikes again
the apex is still higher

tho’ energy now spent
you vow to keep on going
just when the crest you’ve reached
you slip and fall now dangling

hanging by a nail
a famine then come robs you
feed on your inner will
to see your destination

you break free and go on
the wind strikes now the hardest
resist not but take flight
set sail to elevation

your spirit will not break
your eye’s upon the zenith
but next the snake will bite
let passion be your tonic

it burns right through your veins
your skin molting peels off you
metamorphosis has changed
the venom to elixir

then illness strikes quite fierce
you sink into a deep trench
reach down throw up your twine
towards the light you see it

no strength left yet still walk
you are not to be broken
stop gasp and catch your breath
you are at the top now

a phosphorescent light
envelops all around you
spin it into gold
throw rope to those still climbing

you who’ve scaled the mount
tho’ scarred have high ascended
fear’s an illusion here
love’s altitude has conquered

never give up hope
tho’ night is at its cruelest
hang on to see the sun
the pinnacle is magic

©2016janetaylor
#pinnacle #forbearance #hope #magic
Pat Broadbent Nov 2018
Day simmers
Mutating as we speak
To reach its zenith,
A short afternoon leaves when the dark breaks;

Nestling closer
To this more stable form
Of unchanging winter,
Of death tirading in pearly vestments;

Pitiful critters,
Eyes beady-black and weeping–
Go reach your summons,
A short path lies where the mind breaks.
Into the masquerade
Of her unyielding dream,
I see her flash into ambiguity.
A vestige of fluorescent
Transcendental light particles
Rising into the zenith,
Through a liquescent portal,
Into the reminiscence
Of her fanciful bloom.
I meander through the enigmatic
Labyrinth of her
Never-ending rumination.
Through the postern door,
Into a frolic of festivity;
A jamboree of her
Effervescent frivolity.
A sudden vision
Of our exuberant youth,
The romantic tryst by the fountain.
Our souls interlaced,
weaving in the wind
As we gaze at her fragrant,
Celestial moon.
The ambience of her earthly silence
Conjures the emergence of a stairway
Into her intuitive star.
Our ephemeral dalliance,
In an evaporating mirage
Of unrelenting fortitude,
Of what was once forgotten.
I take my enamoured bow,
With ardent strings of burning light
And fire fervently to seek
Her euphonious heart.
TheMystiqueTrail Sep 2018
Roller coaster...
it propels you to the zenith of ecstasy
to hurl you surlily to the pits of agony.

It mocks your senses,
turns your sensibilities upside down,
pounds your heart to panic bewilderment.

It dishevels your tranquillity,
shoves you to a hysteric frenzy,
pushes you into the dark world of insanity.

Still, we cherish the thrill of its madness,
outwit each other
to jump on the bandwagon
that takes us to the holes of delusion!
Unnamed Oct 2018
I wage war against
The stars of this universe.
I decry this sky
Of unbroken lights
And dim futures
That will never be.

There’s a cluster of dots
In the night sky
That reminds me of you.
They’re vehement,
Standing high above my ground;
They look down upon me,
But maybe I’m above them.

Earth could be the zenith,
And the stars simply lie
At the feet of our existence.

But then again,
That would be rather egotistical;
We must not cheat
Our feeble consciousnesses:
We are at the mercy of those
Eternal spheres of pure,
Unforgiving, luminous fire.

“And so long as men die,
Liberty will never perish”
I do hope the statement proves to be true.
Let us be everything except for what we are not.
Umi Apr 2018
Until the sun has crossed the zenith,
I would like to wander, across and beneeth, the mountains, or perhaps simply a valley, if the weather is blissful and kind once more,
I want to read the scripture, given to me and study it without bore,
Perhaps tea would suit me well, maybe I will remain lazy as I dwell,
I want to feel the gentle breeze of the spring getting lost in daydreams
Maybe a shining barrage will be fine, oh no it would be a crime, getting lost in unfulfillable fantasies which bring glee, wonderfully,
I want to eat some cake, discussing astronomy, the beauty of space,
Oh how beautiful it would be, to see your joyful, sweet gaze during it

What I desire might sound extra ordinary, but worry not my dear,
Because you know, I live in fear, isolation and akwardness here,
I make all these plans, yet in the end, none will be fulfilled, you hear?
After all, I got no friends to talk to, but reading should be very fun,
And I might not be too lazy to walk alone if it is under the sun,
But do not worry about me, no one does, I am just me,
A sea of love with no one to be

~ Umi
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
The devil sits at its zenith
Hell’s warmth embracing
a bead of sweat escapes
both the man and the beast
locked and circling
waiting
waiting
waiting
until one leaves alive
both man and beast
want to show their bravado
one charges
one waves and dodges
both smell death’s breath
a crimson river starts to flow
and the dance is repeated
until one sits on Charon's boat
or is pulled by death’s horses
but in this dance
both have tripped and fallen
death is overjoyed in the afternoon
幽玄 Jul 2018
They say..

to be incomplete in yourself,
means you’re forever expanding
to be complete,
means you’re forever enclosing,
expansion at its zenith,
pulling in every part of its reach,
toward the embodiment of growth,
(the centerpiece)
encasing all that was incomplete
condensed into a unplaced form
that goes on
being reborn
again
afterward
and so on
...
same with people
you’re never done coming toward
evolution’s mark
you’re going to always pass it
until the day you are no longer unrestful from response
from perennial budding to the corralling of everything
to an ephemeral edge
onward,
we no longer need to gather anymore seashells
instead,
we become those alike—scattered across a vast way of crumbled rock,
layered finely
propping over this white sand was the initial response,
following, sliding,
gliding seasons’ complexion,
was never so intense
undying was this sensation
it’s body of variables;
formless and ever—changing
like us
giving way to a shifting being, taking of everything lying around
suns’ gather ‘round for a naturally occurring summit,
never were they so bright,
blind
let the open water receive us from this warm sinking
watch as all the other shells wash away along with your self
into a sea of infinite knowledge,
sensuality covers this fluidity
a capacity so ever-expanding
we are birthed
without ‘self’
but of everything



underlying interrelation;

—i was him and he was me
one another, fused tightly
a petal crown born
unto everything
unleashed,
unborn,
born,
heavy,
light,
amassed
with
anothers
darkness,
founding
light
outside
the marsh
pollen
coating
our
way
along
with
words
given
slightly
with
breathe
we
shared
passed
corneas
focus
spectating
encasing
our
senses
blurring
silently
dying
simply
for
a
morn
awakening
still
broken
beside
another
aligned
imperfectly
indistinguishable
indicative
of
comp­letion
unsounded
unsourced
unseen
with
him
a peculiar gathering of words to create a one–part(icular) idea



Love is key.
Not entirely what you thought it to be.
Kinley Norbu May 11
I always have desire for you to be mine,
Since long time back in my thought.
Make me as one of your bad habit,
I just wish to say that to you.

In the ocean of my body,
Captivating Boat of love is waiting,
Let love enjoy for sometime in,
And let it rise till the height of zenith.

Desire to show my eternal feelings,
In mezerizing eyes of yours,
Let me come close to your heart,
and read those lines for you.

In the desire of extream true love,
Let's get wet in the rain of love,
I always have desire of finding you,
And not let you lose,since long time.

Just keep me close to your heart,
I want to say that my love,
Dont stop me now I cant avoid-
Myself from falling for you.

Come and glimpse my condition,
Now,I don't have to care myself,
Everything is happening for good,
I always have dream to meet love.

Since long time back in my thought,
You travelled riding on my nerves,
Let me to keep myself within you,
Just wish to say that my love.
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