The Pretty Cook

I tried my best to make this poem as simple as possible. The ending is very open; however I tried not to carry the reader to many vivid images but gave enough for any reader to think. This poem started with me watching a girl online, doing some cooking. I wrote to her in chat “The Pretty Cook” she is pretty but I don’t know her name or nationality. I took screenshots of her cooking and eating. I honestly have no permission to do that or to use the images. But she was in a public chat room. Then I myself went to eat dinner, that’s where thoughts about this poem started, her movements plagued my mind and I said to myself “Oh’ my God, such a pretty girl cooked dinner and ate it all by herself” then I laughed aloud as I am doing the same thing. I was finishing my dinner when I laughed out aloud. The difference I felt was I am a very happy man no matter what life throws at me. I am very well versed to do what I need and I only care about what I need, not what I want or what anyone else think I want. So, my life is very simple and I don’t do anything much to complicate my life or anyone else’s life. This girl from what I saw lives a very sophisticated life and that asks for complexities which made her pause for a while when she was eating. It took little more than three hours for me write this poem. Let me know what you think.

The Pretty Cook.


Morning, noon and evening passed,
Cold, warm and pleasant feelings they left,
Events all around her surrounded,
Commute, work, commute all inside the day filled,
And back at home, in the sweet little home she rested.

The archive of days she called her memories,
They all looked the same with some faces smiling,
Some faces in anger screaming, her face in the mirror crying,
They all abandoned her to the present and into history faded,
History none ever, even in their ignorance may learn.

Still at the prime of the day at the world she smiled,
Glory to you life, glory to all wayfarers, glory to all who smiled back,
The twists and turns of the day by the night unbound,
Hunger from the depths of stomach at high pitch growled,
Meat, vegetables and bread saw light once more.

As the meat in the pot slowly cooked,
And her pretty hands at a steady pace sliced,
Many vegetables then seasonings and sauces added,
The smell filled the kitchen and half her hunger it killed,
Even when cooking like a mindless machine she moved.

At the table she sat, a little prayer and a little pause,
Ah’ that little pause took a mighty stretch,
As at that time her loneliness she felt,
Only her breaths broke the silence,
And those breaths too like a lazy horse slowed.

The prettiness of her Ah’ none can know,
As none was there to see how innocent she looked,
When slowly but steadily she ate what she cooked,
Even when she ate, like a mindless machine she moved,
Finished the meal with a little prayer of thankfulness.

The dishes at a quicker pace she washed,
Then through her mind many days from archives flashed,
But she felt only one image that forever stale in her mind stayed,
Nothing moved, no color any image found, all like leaves of fall dried.
And a wind in her mind took them all leaving baron land.

The machine in her stopped, emotions through every vein paced,
At the falling water from the faucet for a long time she stared,
No questions from past echoed, no questions about future predicted,
Then a drop of tear from her eyes with pain of loneliness fell,
Which she watched, washing away along with the bits of food she cooked.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved. 2012.

Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe

This is the poem Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe. I read this during one of my shows for some young authors who asked how to get a proper opening for a poem or short story.

 

 

A Bad Idea.

The morning was awesome I just slept like a log for how many hours I don’t know. I woke up to a magic and it lasted for some time. From about 8 lines I wrote a while back I went up and down to write the new in the Magic Of Julia series.

 “Farewell flames, through mind like wild fires spread,
As every corner of my soul with her love she filled,
And into every bit of my life herself she merged,
Leaving a silhouette of true love for the world to see.

Farewell flames that in slow heat burned all my thoughts,
And in mind left the filth of depression, of love unacknowledged,
As every word of love from her as soothing rain lashed,
And filled in every vein of mine sprouting everything new.”

Then the morning spread, it is cold and I see that the birds in my backyard finished an entire tube of feed in less than 24 hours. Wow they are packing up for the winter. Two months before after some stale months I wished for a change. It was a bad idea. That’s all I can say.

Have a great day everyone.

The Fucked Up Reality.

What a let down by President Obama in the first presidential debate. I thought he is going shut down the campaign of Mitt Romney last night by nailing him down with very many wrong doings and sayings of Mitt Romney. He had this incredible opportunity to call a liar, a liar in front of the entire nations on his face. Obama just stood there with his head down when Romney kept on pouring his lies one after the other. This is what happens when you deal with conservatives they lie, again and again they lie and they even lie in the name of God. That’s what they are good at and I was least surprised by the lies Mitt Romney told.  Maybe Obama is going to get his act together in the next debate, I don’t know. But at least in the next debate Mr.President  don’t just stand there like a teenager being scolded for peeping into neighbors wife taking bath. Tell the truth on the face and take the consequences of telling the truth. The truth is the Republican congress blocked you from implementing your plan. The truth is America kept on losing jobs because of outsourcing done by people like Mitt Romney. The truth is there are millions of people in America who are suffering because of the Republican Congress. That’s A Reality.

 Now I am writing a pretty long poem, I haven’t really written anything like this in a long time though…. Here are some lines from the poem

“Gather not the memories of a time lost,
For in them the light of a loving soul resides,
Let the flames of your lost love die in frost,
May the light of morrows be your guide.”

I am working with three different models to get a grip on this poem. It is a lot of fun when working with a model girl who knows nothing about what I am doing. Honestly I miss the last model, who really even in her anger can inspire me better than these three models. That’s my truth and my reality. Well the last I heard about her, if I am thinking and interpreting things in her way of thinking through which she interpreted what I said..She is shuttling between Michigan and Illinois trying to hit on truckers. Maybe her bitchy friends are not giving her any ride. I don’t know, but when you are with fucked up friends then you will get really fucked up. That’s a general reality. Anyway I will post the poem when it is ready. You all maybe wondering why no more Magic of Julia poems.. I decided to make it a kindle book and it will be released by Christmas. That’s the plan, well my plan can change any moment. That’s another fucked up reality.