Hi All,

I am in Kerala, a state at the south western tip of India. I wasborn and brought up here. So a lot of places to go and people to meet in theshort time I have. Here the temperature is far better only in the lower 90s andoccasional rain. The South western monsoon is on its way it may miss me asweather men here are predicting a heavy rainfall season but a delayed one.Other than that nothing much going on, I’ve seen my sick cousin who is farbetter now, my sick nephew who had undergone a surgery now almost completely recovered. Then just enjoying the short break. Ialready miss many things, unfortunately I just cannot single anything out. WhatI can say is life is short and the world is small and I am just getting old.Why I said I am getting old is, I got really sick in Delhibecause of the heat and I couldn’t go to Agrato see Taj. May be another time. But I went to some other places close to thecentral part of Delhi.I will post some pictures which I took in Delhi.I just couldn’t get hold of a scanner. If I couldn’t find a scanner I will postit once I reach USA.

This is where I started writing poetry. So expect some poetry inthe coming days. 

I know another thing now.

I love you all my xanga family more than I ever imagined..

Hi All,

 My apologies for not posting for somedays. I am in New Delhi now. I reached here on 21st evening and here comes trouble my suite case went missing during travel. Alitalia today called me and told they found the bag in Milan, Italy. Then I went for a long drive here around Delhi to a place called Ajmeer. I will give you the details about that trip after I reach America. So here is the good news. The embassy approved my application for visa so I will be back in US on June 7th evening. I don’t know how will I thank you all who wished me luck all my prayers and your prayers are answered. Thanks everyone. It is very hot here. About 117 F even at 8:30PM in Delhi. I will get back to you all soon.

The Signature Of A True Human Is The Smile He/She Brings On The Face Of Others.


Hi Everyone,

I am right now sitting in the Airport in Milan, Italy. I am on my way to New Delhi, India for my Visa stamping. I thought posting something before I leave Virginia. But a lot of things went wrong on the day of departure. But those things are all history now. I am here in Milan, looking at some pretty looking Italian women, listening to my favorite music and having a good cup of tea with great tasting cheese cake.

Many of you might have wondered what in the world happened to me as I always make sure that I visit most of your sites no matter what. Things became that busy there. I will get to each site of yours as time permits during this trip. Keep coming back here, I will be posting often even though I am in a long trip. Now gotta go as the WiFi hour I bought is almost over.

Hopes and Hopes On Hopes.
Looking back at the younger years,
Joy fills my eyes with tears,
The caressing words of the elders,
The unbelievable imaginations of the childhood,
Thrill of adventure in the teens,
The loving words of my best friend.
So happy I was and made others happy,
Seems all lost far beyond my grab,
None else to blame than myself,
When stunned before realties of life,
Where the crooked prevails and laughs all the way home,
Can’t go back to the fantasy world, though I wish I could,
But hopes and hopes on hopes,
Drags a foot of mine ahead.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. This poem was originally written in 1995 in India. Later was released in LonelyPoet.Com in the fall of 1998.

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It is a tedious thing to pack everything up with a lot of uncertainity in mind. That is what I am doing now. I know my life is not as simple as many thinks and it calms down a bit that gives a fear in my mind. Then my life puts me into a drum and rolls me down hill. It then takes a while for me to get back to where I was and beyond then the fearful calm comes again and the whole cycle repeats. Now a days I enjoy the whole process except the calm, silence and darkness which I hate.
I wrote some lines today morning. Breaking my own tradition of waiting a while before posting it here. I am posting the short poem here. I hope from this you will understand how I feel.

Once again thanks a million for all the great supporting words and prayers. I am no stranger to you all anymore. For all your words and prayers, I pray to God to give me the strength and will to give you all the best I can when needed.

Faking Thoughts.

Noon time passing me by luring me to wonder,
Oh! I am in the middle of the day!
I remember the dawn like a second ago,
Time never pass by fast,
It’s the thoughts that fakes the illusion,
I still may think the same in the evening,
Talking about the thoughts that fakes,
But when thoughts pass through time,
Of which we know nothing about the beginning,
Of which we know nothing about the end,
I think everything is nothing,
But the pleasures of the faking thoughts.

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Hi All, I am sorry for staying away from Xanga for couple of days. Things went that bad. I needed to fight with tooth and nail to get my ticket expenses from my company. For nearly five hours I even quit my job and told them I am leaving America for good if they don’t pay for my tickets. Well at the end of the day yesterday it was all sorted out with one phone call from the company CEO. Then it was his round of yelling at me. But everyone laughed at yesterday, today morning when I called them to tell that I am leaving on 20th from Washington, Dulles airport to Delhi and will be back on 7th June if the embassy stamps my visa. So that is what I have for you all. Pray for me.

Here is a poem I wrote a long time back when I was working in Miami, FL. Yesterday I took this poem and read it when I was going through the arguments with the company people. Thanks a lot everyone for the great supporting words, for many, many reason I just don’t feel Lonely anymore.

In Search Of Identity.

I still hear the echoes of my cry,
The cry I had at the time of my birth,
Many a time thought I,
Why so loud I cried,
May be because of the pain,
I’ve given to my mom,
Or thinking of this lonely life to live,
In this wild world.
So many years,
Filled with happy and sad days,
They’re all gone by,
Still I don’t know, the meaning of my name,
Still I don’t know, what am I to all I love,
Still I don’t know, why many love me,
And I don’t know, where to search for,
My own Identity.
And I cry even harder and loud,
Than at the time of my birth,
Each and everytime I lose,
In my search of Identity.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. This poem was first released on the web in LonelyPoet.Com in the early winter of 1998.
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Hi Everyone,
  Here is the update on my immigration. I must leave USA and tryto get my visa stamped from India. There is no choice in that. Mycompany already given me the vacation starting from 15th of this monthfor two weeks to get this done and come back. I have an appointment atthe US embassy in New Delhi on 24th of this month for appearing for thestamping. So far my company haven’t given me the ticket details and Iam still waiting for the call to know the exact day I am leaving.
 The question of getting this visa stamped easily is not an easyone to answer as there are a whole bunch of complications connected tomy visa. First my company forget to renew it. Then we went to USCIS orformerly INS to get my expired visa renewed. They approved the visapart but directed me to leave USA and get this visa stamped in India.That directive took more than a month to reach me through my attorney.So it is all up in the air now. I may or may not come back.
  There is only one thing that can overturn all this. My GreenCard application getting approved now. If that happens then I will havea status. Even if the US embassy in New Delhi deny me the visa I stillhave that option to get back here.
So my xanga family, I will let you all know when  I am leaving. Asinternet is place without boundaries. I don’t think any government willask me to leave this place.
I will post a poem when I update later tonight.
The Signature Of A True Human Is The Smile He/She Brings On The Face Of Others.

Hi All,
I am kinda is walking into a turning point in my life. It takes a lot to explain and nothing is clear yet. It is connected to my immigration. I hope to get a clear picture of the choices I am going to get by tomorrow evening. There is a possibility that I may have to leave USA altogether, that is the worst case scenario. I will post the details either tomorrow evening or day after tomorrow.

Here is a poem I wrote after I fully realized that I am over “She”. I was kinda started seeing another girl at that time and this poem was written on my notepad upon her back sitting near Lake Michigan in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Even though the ever changing aquarian mind of mine moved from Katrina and she from me to another guy and married him. We still are good friends.

I think the name of the poem fits the situation I am in. I think this is what I need to do.

Raising From Misfortune.
Still hear the echoes of the pathos, sung,
By nightingales long before my birth,
Glory to all those who went away,
Into the silent land, not to hear, not to see,
The misery I am in,
The loser’s wild cry.
Wishes are all powdered by misfortunes,
All my dreams were washed away,
By the violent sea of life into oblivion,
Love remain unheard and unknown,
When the one I love sealed her heart,
Glory to all those well wishers,
Their prayer went unheard with mine,
When bad man fate made me the unfortunate.
Now living against the waves,
And against the will of mankind,
Standing alone on the shore,
Weaving new dreams,
Blowing away the agony of fate,
Moving away from irony of misfortune,
Into the land of sweet dreams,
Raising new hopes of life and love,
Where you and I hold hands and pray,
For the day, for the ‘morrow and for the ages to come,
Where hopes are not just hopes,
But roots of a high yielding tree,
That bear the love of the ‘morrow and forever.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. This poem was released in LonelyPoet.Com in the summer of 1999.

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I am getting caught up with the new job. Lot of things to do and I have very little time to do it all. Today I reached the office at 10:30 and my boss said hey buddy try to be here an hour before. He is cool. Nobody is upset, but it was a warning that outside life is getting caught up in my work, which is not good. My colleagues at work wherever I worked were the worst audience I ever faced. Computer programmers never enjoy poetry. I am a poet first and everything else after.

Now I haven’t wrote another word on my poems yet, so I am going to post another old poem. This is a poem I wrote when I was working in Florida way away from a girl I was dating. It was a tough time for both of us as we were at the verge of breaking up. I hope you all enjoy the poem.

The Vagabond.

Wandering through the battle field,
A battle lost even before fought,
Hopes and dreams were the weapons,
All lie shattered in pieces,
Love’s lost beyond any hope of recovery,
All across the horizon I see no lucky stars,
All murdered by a wicked thought,
Of whom i don’t know.
I’ll remain a vagabond,
Until I rediscover my senses,
But tell me girl where to look for,
A hope and dream to live for?.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. Poem was released in LonelyPoet.Com in the fall of 1998.

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Song Of The Dying Nightingale.

Hello Everyone!
A day I started late but now ends with total normalcy. Even though I am still not sure what I should do and should not here in this place I am kinda getting around. Now I know how good Texas was, how good Kansas was, how good California was and above all how wonderful Wisconsin was. I want to get back to Wisconsin, a place I consider as my second birthplace. I enjoyed every bit of it. I was angry, sad, happy and arrogant to say it in another way life was full there. Now no matter how I try to fit in and how much accommodative people are nothing satisfy me well like those three years. There are a lot of names, Megan, Katrina, Maggie, Jessica and someone not from there Linda these are some of the woman who came to my life. Then there were those great friends Ian, Nathan, Brian, Jim, Randy, Steve, Deepak, Nitin, Prabhakar, Cecil wow I can list a lot of names here. They all contributed to the well being of mine. There is one who stands out of it all ‘She’ taught me the biggest lesson, that love cannot be won by tricks or to put it in another way, she won the tricky game and I was defeated.

Now when I look back exactly 6 years after my life got royally screwed I know there are only two to blame Linda and myself. I know she will never see any of my writings as the hatred was that much. I may not even smile at her even if by chance I meet her because my love burned away in my struggle to survive. This is the first time ever I am mentioning her name in my sites till now I only said ‘She’. If she ever finds this post my apologies to her for saying her first name.

One thing is sure I am way away from that reality called love, I will never be able to backtrack to my own heart, on my own strength.

This is a poem I finished in the winter of 1999 when I was unemployed, broke and heart broken. I started long time back to write it about10 years before I even met Linda, but the screw up really helped me to finish this poem. There is a lot more I could’ve written in this poem but even now it is the longest poem I’ve ever written. I may add more but I am not sure if I will ever do that or not. The I idea of the poem first originated in mind after a real life event. When I was in college we wake up early in the morning to do our studies. One night me and my friend Timor heard this birds cry, it sounded very sad. And ever early morning we heard that for like a week and one morning there was no cry. Next day we went around the possible tree  where the bird might’ve sat. We found the corpse of a bird with black and white spots on it. I felt really sad and helpless. I don’t use to write at that time. I first thought about writing it and wrote it in a Malayalam poem. I am not good in writing in Malayalam. The idea was kept in my memory archives and when I started to write in English I tried to write a poem with that. But I was not knowing how to finish it. Like I said earlier… the bad relationship and the way it all turned out put me away from town and one day when I was walking beside the lake in the evening the whole area got covered with mist. I cannot walk any further as I can’t see anything in the dark. When the mist was cloaking me the ending of this poem came to my mind. I ran through darkness and the thick mist I ran home and sat and wrote it all down. I still remember one of my good friend who read this poem telling me this “By far the best poem I’ve read” Like I said when I first posted in LonelyPoet.Com in 1999 I hope you all have the patience to read a 95lines long poem.

Song Of The Dying Nightingale.

Oh those nights I remember,
Warm dark and starless,
The cunning fox howls after the steal,
Neighbor’s dog howls in frustration,
The rumblings of the city buses and trains,
All settles past the last phase of the night,
And at the first phase of the morn,
The low voice of the nightingales song I heard,
A tune adored by melancholy,
A tune the whole nature listens in stillness,
And as a blessing brings daybreak to the world,
Or may be to soothe the pain of the singer.
Every night I waited to hear,
The variations of the sad and painful tune,
Seven weeks and three days passed,
With every morning of mine in tears,
And on that night I waited,
But the long tiring day threw my mind away,
Into the depths of sleep and the world of subconscious,
Where I saw two lovely birds singing,
Sitting on the different branches of the same tree,
Singing in high and low note reaching counter point,
And to the different tune of each bird dances,
The whole nature with joy and pride,
Filling every corner with scent of love,
Taking sides of each bird in turns,
The clinging of the branches and leaves,
The whistling wind that bumps around,
The steady stream all in union,
Makes the perfect orchestra;
But the law of nature always is,
That nothing goes in perfect harmony,
The male trying hard to get in tune with the female.
The different tunes counter point lost,
In the obsession of her who craved,
The unknown, the unheard, the unbelievable,
And for him love remains untold,
What’s heard was the babblings of the Ravens instead,
After eyes shut, mouth sealed, and wings broken,
Every morning from his soul rose,
The pathos of the tunes she sung,
Never ate, never slept but lived his time in sorrow,
Seven weeks and three days he wept,
And the unforgiving life left him without mercy.
From the virtual death I woke up in tears,
Seeing the lord of the day in all his glory,
The sleep, the dream all seem unreal,
What felt was the pain of a departing soul,
The power of the dream was gone,
When at the end of the long search,
Beneath a big banyan tree I found,
The featherless corpse of the sad singer,
The ever roaring mother nature waited in stillness,
Anger, sorrow and frustration all merged,
To make me understand once more, helplessness,
Closing all my senses I walked away,
From that place with a pleadge,
That I’ll rather live as a broken-hearted,
Than break any lovers heart.
Time and long struggle with life,
Took away the sadness of mine,
And the tune which I adored,
Faded away into the bad memory of mine,
In the very many years gone by,
I won, I lost and I survived,
Newness to nothingness, believable to unbelievable,
But always stood up to life without regrets,
Seven seas I passed from motherland,
From the land of warmth and mystery,
To the land of snow and wonders unheard,
Here again I won, I lost and I survived,
But the ever loving soul seem tired,
When loses outnumbered success,
All the castles I built turned to dust,
All the harmonious to disharmonious,
No thoughts, no dreams, no sleep,
As everything is in the season of decline,
Even the just set sun seems to hide fast,
From the eyesight of an unfortunate,
I feel so much vulnerable these nights,
Walking by the lake through the mist,
In moonless nights burying my last hopes,
I feel the remains of the winter, when the mist embraces,
In between, the warmth kisses my cheeks,
And sometime the western wind,
Brings me the smell of spring,
But there are those moments,
When everything stops even stars not blinking,
No warmth, no cold, no smell around,
The deadly stillness and silence of the nature,
Where I see the darkest part of the dark,
And hear nothing but the beat of my heart,
Then from the depths of my soul rise,
The tune from the soul of the dying nightingale.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. This poem was written and released in LonelyPoet.Com in the winter of 1999.


While I was driving through Arkansas which like I said was surprisingly beautiful there was this girl who was almost racing with me in her VW beetle the same color as mine. When I stopped at a rest area she also stopped there I did not talked to her as I was busy refreshing she came along and told me “You drive fast” I told her “So are you, you were there always on my right” smiling she told me that she is going to exit in another fifty miles, shook hands with me and told her name as Joan.
When I started I started recording what I was saying to myself. Last night I wrote it down and modified what I told a bit.
Here it is

Pleasant is the word that came to my mind,
Upon seeing you through my eyes,
You are like that cool breeze,
Upon my face I felt,
In the never ending sands of a golden beach,
Imprinting an image deep in my minds eye.

You are that flower by nature,
Again and again touched to perfection,
You are that flower by bee.
Again and again touched to fulfillment,
You are that flower to my bosom I will hold,
And keep in my love ever bloomed.

Your hands in every way perfect,
Every action every humans ever do,
Up in the prayers when they do rise,
None will go unanswered.
And forever blessed will remain,
My heart in those soft hands of yours.

The footsteps of yours is ever guiding,
In paths so righteous,
Every lovers dream of the eternal walk,
Began with the first step of yours,
And forever I will walk over those footsteps,
In the trans of the love of yours.

Yours is the face nature try to steal.
Every morning, evening, night and day.
Yours is the face I wish to carry,
In every bit of my view and beyond,
Yours is the face I promise to hold upright,
Even when tired in the fall of time.

I made a blunder, I did not asked any other details not even her email if she have one, nor did I gave any of mine to her.
I don’t know if this poem is completed, I have a lot more in my mind. I will update it when I add some more to it.
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