Today
not much happening other than couple of interviewers calling me at work
and me running out of office to take those calls. Just hanging in here.
I can’t speak a lot as my throat is really sore. I don’t know why my
throat went bad all of a sudden.
It is
really really sad and horrific what happened in London. My heartfelt
prayers goes to all those who died in the explosions and those injured.
I hope there will be no more death among the injured. This once
again tells us that there are a lot of evil people in the world who
don’t understand the values of humanity. It is peace and prosperity
that they hate. The spread of peace and prosperity all around the world
can be used as one of the means to defeat them. But there are times
when eye for an eye is the only option. I fear we are nearing to that
only option.
Here is an old poem.
This is a poem I wrote some day in June 1998. It was originally named ‘About My Megan’ I named it like that just to piss off Megan’s boyfriend. Now Megan is a poet I met in an unusual place. She was a stripper working in a Milwaukee
downtown strip club. After talking to her couple of times I found out
she is just not bluffing with me she is a wonderful writer. She had a
lot of personal problems some of the stuff she told me. It was just a
friendly relationship and her boyfriend had a lot of other suspicions
about the whole friendship. I wrote this poem and gave it to Megan
during a lunch I’ve given to before I left Milwaukee.
The original I know is destroyed by her boyfriend after seeing the
title. I only laughed as I know she meant nothing to me and I meant
nothing to her. One thing is sure; she is one of best writers I’ve seen in my life.
About Megan.
Buried deep in the heart,
The feeling of anguish to life,
From the mother’s womb thrown out,
Into a life she tried to end,
At an age when everyone else,
Thought about nothing but the future.
Life is never harsh,
But attitudes make life harsh.
So many near, but all selfish minds,
Buried herself within her,
From those haunting past days.
Opened her everything to everyone,
But not that pure soul,
It lives somewhere deep, still pure,
Even when life took the deep plunge,
Dragging her to the wrong place,
Dissolving in her own wrong,
Earns her living from sex scavengers.
Don’t know who am I?
May be the onlooker who is
So helpless, so sad,
When watching a good soul dance,
As a good scavenger.
©RIAZAHAMMED.COM.
thanks mister, man you really write a lot of poems
thats cool though 🙂 god’s blessed you with a gift
hey yeah sometimes i want it to be an eye for an eye but does that make us any better?
I was shocked to see that on the news about the London bombing. My heart goes out to those also…..it makes me wonder when the madness of terrorism will ever end???
Your comment brought a smile to my face. Sorry about the one-word comment I’d left before…I couldn’t think of anything else that would suffice. Thanks for your wishes that I get more time to write…..I miss that.
Your poetry is so heartfelt…I just love it! This poem is no exception.
Ok, I gotta run..pizza is burning…er, cooking in the oven! lol
Everyone is bound to feed both wolves. It’s human nature after all.What a nice reason to title, to piss of a girl’s boyfriend. Good poem.
good poem thats the name of cousin!!!!! but yeah im leaving her tomorrow so yeah till like 2 years…..not cool she is my best friends but anyways jsut wanted to say good poem!!!!
hey you, thanks so much for the comment…you just gave me a boost on my self-esteem, i was starting to think i’m a lousy writer…now, i’m gonna be writing some more poems…;) your peom’s beautiful, it’s heart-breaking but it’s the truth..I wrote a poem just like that pertaining to a prostitute named ‘Selya’, but it’s written in Filipino, i doubt if anyone would understand it if i post it in my site.You know, here in the Philippines, where i live, there are a lot of Megans–pure, beautiful Megans marred by their destinies. People see them as superficial and shallow, like as they strip theirselves off their clothes, they begin to also bare their souls to everyone. But some of us just know that every individual has an inner depth where each one’s worth is kept, and not everyone can see that. Selya and Megan–i think they’re just victims of this wee thing called fate…but like other people, they have lives and they are able to love. And life is much deeper than fate, and love is the essence of living.
Thanks again for the comment. I really appreciate it. 🙂
Hi there. RYC: I’m truly humbled that someone of your talent took the time to compliment my writing & my goodness, ask for “my” opinion!!?? 🙂 You made my day! Thank you. (Okay, so I’ve been having a bad day……) Regarding your morning piece… honestly I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s quite beautiful the way it is. It flows nicely. Towards the end the tone changes a bit but it stretches the mind & provokes thought. Please let me see the finished product. Happy Friday to you. ~S
Hey there. Loved that poem, it was beautiful!
Thank you for your comments on my site. I will post later. Today, I think that I will have the confidence to begin posting some of my poems. I hope that you will read them and tell me what you think. I value your opinion.
I hope that your weekend is wonderful.
Have Fun!
Cheryl
Life is a tragedy – kinda like most Shakespearian plays it seems. But wasn’t it him who coined the saying that life is merely but a stage …. Andyhoos, enjoyed the write very much. Nothing like dusting off the older writes :-p The situation in London floored me. Considering that some of my friends are there, some are from there but here in the states and their family is still there. Just glad to know that those I know are okay!!!
~*NW*~
My Dear Riaz~ Thank you for the kind words. I am still so amazed at how well you write English and poems…being it is your 2nd language. Did you learn English as a child? How old were you when you first came to the States? I am correct in assuming that your family is all still living in India? Have you heard of Ravi Saccaris? I’m sure I spelt his last name wrong. I think he’s an incredible man. I’ll see if i can find a web link for him. Have a great weekend. Talk to you soon my friend. Hugs~ Kimmie*
i wish it was imagination, but sadly, its not. i didnt go through the whole backround of the poem because its a personal issue im dealing with and the person who it is aimed at understands it. it wasnt meant for the entertainment of the reader but im glad you enjoyed it anyway.
this poem of yours is hopelessly beautiful and sad and romantic and mournful all at once. like youre mourning the waste of a beautiful soul on such a demeaning outlet. great choice of wording, it really hit me.
hey
thanks for letting me know that i write well
it’s just that some of the things i write about are about people who are reading them.
<3 i don’t mean to be a disapointment
Nice contrast in the line about the life she tried to end when others think of the future. I suppose thats how it often happens; too much stress in preparing for tomorrow that the thought of today engulfs you.
I agree with Linz 1985.
Thanks for your comments. You’re right that a ghazal usually deals with lova and passion, but I thought it would be ironic to write one about war.
It is definitely a beautiful poem. Yes, I can never own enough books. It’s more bookcases I need to invest in now. My books are in strategic piles all over the house.
lisa
Thank you for commenting and giving me advice. I really appreciate the few who read my posts and take time to give their thoughts. I really like this poem you’ve written.
You seem to be very intuitive when it comes to people.
*Somber_shades
thank you
sounds like your pretty busy.
no usually when i write i just write what comes to my mind. i don’t ponder alot about the meaning of the poem, what the next line is.alot of times it doesn’t even make sense to anyone else but me. which is proably why you think they need alot of work. and i know even if they do make sense and are really easy, i look back and find mistakes. i don’t know. I usually only write for myself. i write when everythings falling apart. i’m not too good at expressing myself. I can’t bring myself to write while thinking about it. just not how i write, but i wish i could, cuz your poems turn out so good. i don’t know. i dont’ write much anymore. i do, but i dont’ like anything i write so…i’ve stopped posting it. I posted on a site for a long time, if you wanted that address. lol…
you = awesome
yay for elton john:) I have some sunglasses that look like his.
Love, JoAnna
i like the poem
<33 Shirin
I always enjoy your take on whatever you write.Your phrasing intreagues me.
Chris
The poem is wonderfully created.
-Gia:)
yeah there really are beckys everywhere…we must take time to thank them more often. good people are not always easy to come by. take care man
I wrote this to a local artist once, “I once heard that photography allows us to be the proverbial fly on the wall, to see things words can’t explain and the heart can’t fully fathom. I see poetry as something that allows the reader and the writer to better understand the state of emotional feeling that is suppressed on a day to day basis. The poet becomes the fly on the wall to see his/her own artwork coming from their subliminal heart.” Poetry does bloom from within the heart.
Thank you for the words. When reading your thoughts on the “Pin needle” analogy, I found (other than a typo, pin should be pine), we indeed are all fragments of shell shocked debris, a truly beautiful thing to be. Each soul is another extraordinary mosaic and yes very true, when a needle finds another, it is fulfillment.