It’s the weekend, wooo… nothing exciting happening, my phone sitting there silent, my IM’s smiling at me mockingly with no sound, and my mail notification pops up every now and then saying in my own voice “DOH..The Mail Is Here” leaving another junk mail in my mailbox.
I am still not happy with some parts of the new poem I am writing. Maybe I may have to get into the mindset of a much younger person. Which is not easy… lol.
But I am not going to leave you guys empty handed on this beautiful weekend. I hope you guys are doing great like me enjoying being yourself.
I wrote this poem in 2000 naming it ‘Age Of Survival’ and one day when I publish all my poems as a book this will be the name of that book. This is only the first part of a three part poem if you want to read the rest of it you need to go to LonelyPoet.Com and read the rest of it. But this part stand on its own. I hope you all enjoy this one.
Thanks a billion for the great comments all .
You all have a wonderful weekend evening.
Age Of Survival
Part One. Cocoons.
The little hearts I see on the streets,
They tell me how innocent I was,
The beginning of imaginations I remember,
And those imaginations weaving the cocoons,
In which I kept my dreams one by one,
Dreams about small things and big things,
About the world I live and the world unseen;
Dreams about my love and the love I get,
Dreams about life here and hereafter.
Of all the cocoons I kept in my subconscious,
All became beautiful butterflies,
And live around me as my life,
Except the one in which I kept the love I get,
Which became a beautiful butterfly,
But flown far away, so far away from my eyesight,
Leaving the rest, just to die and rot away.
©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. This poem was released in LonelyPoet.Com in the summer of 2000.
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yes it is a great message to send to people about becoming parents i am proud to have put it on my site i do not know who the poet is my cousin sent it in an email and said to pass it on to as many people as possible i hope it gets to enough people to stop them from becoming parents to early. i like the way your poems read they express how i feel about things happening in my life well i have dinner calling me to eat so yeah bye
oh and i meant are you a poet. but i can tell you are. cool, Irving Texas I live in Dallas/ Arlington somewhere in between
heYY
thhnX! im glad u likED it! aint it HawT?! well keep in touch wit the comment rly like em’!!
AnGelinA<33
hell0 thnX DeAR! ur like the only 4 2 talk 2 mee tee hee! well hun keep up the pr0pZ<3333
anGelinA
hey that’s awesome! wow so you have your own site…you must be pretty darn good then. well i can’t talk a whole lot cuz its kinda late and i am so dead from work. but i will check out that site sometime, i’m sure it has a lot of great poems.
take care…
Hey. Good poem….When did you start writing poetry? What inspires you? Keep up the good work.
That poem was absolutely beautiful. Of course, anything that has to do with imagination is. You should have seen me the first time I watched Finding Neverland. I was bawling at even the happy parts. It was just so beautiful, thought provoking, and creative. Your poem reminded me of the stages of childhood. We all start out so innocent. The first best friend I ever had started as my first enemy.
It had been the first day of kindergarten, and she’d pushed me out of my chair saying “Mine! My chair!” It’s kind of funny how I can still remember that…Well, anyway, we used to pretend to be all kinds of different characters. I specifically remember playing “Aladin” in which we’d ride our magic carpet around the playground.
Wow, playgrounds…In first grade I was popped the big question, “Will you marry me?”, next to the jungle gym. The kid’s name had been Ian. (He wore dark glasses and a leather jacket almost everyday; think Fonsy.) He’d given me a pink plastic ring in the shape of a heart. I kept it in my chest of drawers; top drawer with my diary. I loved telling people I was engaged. Ha, ha, ha…
But of course, then we begin to grow up, and we’re hurt, some of us worse than others. People come and go, and life becomes harder, much harder. Don’t ever let your imagination die. Without it, all you’ve got is an empty cocoon, and even they don’t last forever. Cherish your memories, grow off them. Even if your stripped of everything you’ve ever owned, at least they’ll still be in your mind.
Sorry, if I got a little too corny. I guess I’m feeling kind of wistful tonight, and you’re poem really spoke to me. Bye.
no its my fault i should use punctuation but im just to dam lazy too its good to hear someone else is a poet around here i feel all alone at my house my school my city cause ive never meet another poet so close i just finished writing a pome its about texas ill probably put that one in tomorrow or whenever i get back on anyways yeah just wanted to tell you it wasnt your fault about the question mine and my stupid nonpunctuation crap wel talk to ya later!
Hey there…thanks for your comment and visiting my site! Loneliness isn’t forever!
Thank you. I was feeling so upset yesterday…I guess I just needed to let it all out. I still say your poem is the most beautiful I’ve ever read. Stupidly enough, it made me cry. (Of course, judging by last night, a leaf could have fallen from a tree and I would have burst out in tears…But anyway, thanks again. If you want proof that I’m really sixteen, go back to the part about fake people and insincere emotions. I truly believe that only high school can generate that many people like that. We’re all just so insecure. I hate it when people only bring others down just to make themselves feel better. It’s gets me so mad.
When I try to stand up against gossip, people turn on me instead. They call me stuff like “The Saint” and “Goody Goody.” It gets me super mad. (I’ve got the worst temper in the entire world by the way.) My own friends gossip about my other friends, saying serious stuff that is completely untrue. For example, I got an earful of one of my friends telling me that another cuts herself. She swore the word death was carved on her arm.
I instantly went to see her to make sure it was wrong. Of course it was. The girl was wearing short sleeves and was talking to me animatedly; no scars, no words in her skin. I was relieved, I can tell you that. I was so worried I’d have to force her to see a counciler, or something…I’m so tired of acting like someone I’m not. God, I sound like I’m going to commit suicide! Don’t worry, I’m not. Sometimes I become a tad bit dramatic…
Sigh, well I guess we’re in the same boat, you and I. I’m feeling more and more lonely as the days go by. Can no one understand our poetic ways? We’re tossed about on these chaotic waves. Someday the world will understand. Once we want to come in from the storm, they’ll give a helping hand. But first we must overcome the biggest tidal wave….Loneliness.
Thanks for your comment and subscription. I am glad you liked my writing. I also am glad to have come here and read yours , very thought provoking….I like it :o) I shall subscribe to you also if that’s OK.
Chris
Salutations Lonely,
You have no idea how wonderful it is reading a modern poem that isn’t teen angst. As a senior in high school, most of the people I know who write, write about slitting their wrists. Though I see no problem with using poetry as an outlet for such emotions, it saddens me that all these people write about is depression. There are so many beautiful things in life that they simply ignore because of trivial issues. Even though I’m well aware that there are other people out there who don’t write every poem about suicide, it always makes me smile when I come into contact with one of these rare creatures. Especially when the poem they write is as beautiful as yours was. Keep up the good work.
I understand your perspective on ignoring homosexuals, and in fact, I agree to some extent. I think that being homosexual is the same as being any other minority. That a person is homosexual will not influence my opinion of them in anyway. It’s their choice, I couldn’t careless. In that respect, I don’t think the straight community should dictate how they lead their sexual lives. They don’t need a nation to live their own lives, they can exist in the mainstream culture, but their sexual preference should just be kept to their selves. I don’t particularly care to see anyone in public being overly open about their sexuality. I don’t enjoy walking through my high school seeing couples making out, if they are heterosexual or homosexual it doesn’t matter – it doesn’t belong in public. What good would a nation of homosexuals do? It’s not like they could reproduce.
No thirteen year old alive could provide for a baby. Ultimately the child would end up being raised by its grandparents, some other relative, or going into adoption. If not, the teenage parent is going to have a very rough time raising the child, and even if they do manage to raise him on their own, I’m sure that child is going to end up with some sort of problem. A thirteen year old simply isn’t mature enough to handle raising a child. I know I sure as Hell couldn’t, and I believe I was a lot more mature than most thirteen year olds.
-DBP
Thank you so much for your comment and I do really apersate your opinon. I am looking foward to reading your future comments. I read your post and its very beatiful and true. Thanks for your time you rock!
Awesome poem! u rock. i luv writing poems 2 but ur waayyyyyy better!
keep up da good work, ur doing great
It blows my mind how a mind like yours works. I wish I could put words and thoughts together like you do. What a gift. My mom is gifted that way. Unfortunately it wasn’t passed down to me. Like I said before….I have a hard time understanding poems, however I feel different when I read yours.
hi, thanks for the complements on my poetry, you’re not so bad yourself! i have some others i wouldn’t mind showin you if you like.
i-m me: emotastic6669
or just leave me comments on my xanga and i will post your requests.
thanks again~
eliza
I must say i’m terribly sorry to bring up to your attention about the tragity of losing your two friends. Just remember they’re in a better place, and no matter what they’re helping you through life..Things happen for the best and whatever the best is i hope you succeed in finding it.
The misplaced adolescent essence,
Stay.With.Me.
You’re completely right about there being more good in the world than bad. I’m reminded of it every time I see a mother and her baby. Every time I hold the door open for an elder and they smile and tell me “thank you.” And every time I read your’s and my friend’spoems and comments. Thank you so much for helping me through my um…sinking spell. I was truly drowning in myself for a while. Thanks for throwing me a swim noodle. Sorry if I was kind of freaking you out. I’m usually a much happier spirited person.
I guess that when everything builds on a soul, it can really weigh one down. In my case, it was like a cement block tied to my feet while I jumped off a pier. The cement is gone now, and I’ve come ashore. Everything is much better now, and the sun has gone back behind the clouds again. (I love rain, and hate sunshine.) Again, thanks for helping me. I know it couldn’t have been much fun. Thanks.
i love how you put such thoughts&ideas into great words&poems. i know that might sound cheesy, but as myself i do write poems too, not nearly as good, but i know that its hard to write them, well for me they are. its a good way to express feelings&i believe you should have a few props from myself. prop back
<3 sam
i <3 the poem as usual =]
its kind of hard.. because it’s not so much i want to fit in. it’s just that friends keep telling me how the other friend feels about me. and vise versa. and i wish that the friends could just tell me the truth, instead of me having to hear it from the other one.
and then i am so confused on who to believe and such. =[
anyways thanks for being there.
<3