Song Of A Drowned Bird.

Good morning folks, How are you all after a spectacular weekend? If it were spectacular. My weekend was, well, it was, so better don’t talk about it. I don’t know why I write anymore. Still I write, many ideas were made in a different time line. So I don’t know if most generate the same passion like it did when I wrote the first drafts. Here is one I pulled out and wrote more to the idea.

You all have a fantastic week ahead.

Song Of A Drowned Bird.

Looking past the light less days I see,

 The drowning of a caged bird,

Caught in a web perfectly made,

By minds with menacing machinations.


The mind of the bird none saw,

Golden rods, fruits of sweetness, honey and milk,

Oh’ nothing can drown the true hunger,

The hunger felt by all but understood by none.


Sitting in the cage, no song the bird sang,

Those silent tears none wiped,

Deeper and deeper the feelings crept,

All lost hope and no more care given.


Night less time passed with the howling wind,

Darkness meant nothing as light meaningless flowed,

The mindless bodies in howls like soul less vampires walked,

And thrown the cage into the depths in unkindness.


The material beauty gone beyond recovery,

The menacing crowd fled after the naughtiness,

Oh’ then the wind flown through the branches of the trees so high,

Echoing the tunes the brown bird sang that filled many souls.


Every dawn and dusk new lovers hear,

The tunes the drowned bird sang,

Giving hopes to minds that lost all hopes,

And a feeling of fulfillment to all who thrive in hopes.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2010.

The Girl Beside The Stream.

One of my friend and a very big fan of my poetry recently posted some pictures on her facebook. She looked really pretty and when I saw those pictures I said. No need for sun to be around for me to see you. Yes that’s what I said. Here is the poem that I wrote with that in mind.

Enjoy.

The Girl Beside The Stream.

The rays of sun upon the stream danced,

As water in reluctance stood,

For the reflection her the beauty by the stream,

Time dedicated these days in honor of her prettiness.


Barefooted on the rocks she walked,

The poisonous serpents under the rock hid,

For fear in accident they may bite,

And the algae stayed sturdy for her not to fall.


Sun touched her bare shoulders soft,

Jealous water and air flown,

Some birds flew as high as they can and brought,

Fresh air from high above for her to breathe.


Trees joined the wind and swayed,

Flowers of the wild opened a little more to see,

The beauty in heaven God blessed,

The beauty Nature in pride to the world shown.


Time pushed the sun beneath the western horizon,

And the beauty beside the stream sat in thoughts,

No eyes of men upon her fell as far away all roamed,

But maybe her thoughts about some boys love filled heart.


In thoughts she sat, in thoughts she rose and in thoughts away she walked,

Some flowers she touched in dreams they all slept,

The water and air stood stale, but none noticed,

The image of her in the water even when no light is around.

  

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM All Rights Reserved. 2010 

The Angry Man

I had the most screwed up day in recent times. The last one was a while back. On that day I wrote a poem called “Reading Poems” today the reasons were totally different. A job opportunity came and I passed the interview on Friday. Sweet job, lot of travel then back in Milwaukee for another 3 months, travel again then back there. I cannot ask for anything better and Monday morning I was expecting the confirmation and what did I got? They want someone with a Green Card, which because of the great policies of the United States government I still don’t have. In any other country in this world I would be a citizen after spending 12 years. One can imagine what will I feel. Damn shitty, yeah, damn shitty after spending 3 days without much sleep preparing for the interview and doing it in a way no one can do any better. Anger intoxicated me beyond every imagination of mine. Then I shut myself down. Rarely I do that because after this I know what is going to happen…. you all will enjoy some of the happiest poems I will be writing in this time. Yes, I write happy poems when I am angry or sad. It will be a while before you see them though.

May God Smile Upon You All Always.

The Whistle Of Winds.

The Whistle Of Winds.

The noon time sun upon the roads blazed,

Mirages shown streams flowing ahead,

Oh’ a journey for fun once started,

Then became a passion in which thrived,

Now became a burden unwanted.


Silence deeper into soul penetrated,

Gone by days in memory like view master images stored,

Oh’ what a wonderful life it was for many others,

Still images fading colors, passed with every click of the clock,

Choices well made, fate betrayed, still the joker inside joked.


 

The masters of life drank from the streams ahead they saw,

Intoxicated they lived losing the sharpness of senses,

Oh’ from among those who lost and senseless spoke,

Who all convinced in the sorcery of evil as the light of life,

Ran far, far away though the mirages kept on hunting.


 

The movement stopped, nothing of life seen anymore,

The mirages so thick, fear of drowning in mind filled,

Oh’ then the silence from soul erased,

As the whistle of winds ears both in body and mind heard,

In it were a well composed tune that gave me your feeling of love.



 

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM All Rights Reserved. 2010 

The Lucky Man.

Past, present and future oh’ three words everyone can say and smile. How one is going to merge it all and make a good life is an awesome task. Some are fortunate with it all some just fall apart through it all, then there are others who knows time is another creation and time is never lost. Its just that one need to know how to manage and tame time for being happy all the time. There is a factor of luck in it all. For the surprise of mine these thoughts made me write this poem. Looking into past I changed my relationship status in Facebook to ‘In a relationship’ and it will stay that way forever.

The Lucky Man.

The horizons upon your eyes reflected,

And from it grown a pleasant feeling,

Deep in my heart that told me how you felt,

Then to all the lovers in the world I told,


“Look at me not Oh’ lovers look at your lovers eyes,

For in through those eyes you will see,

The fulfillment of a lifetime of desires,

Filled with love none else will feel and understand.


Gather every breath of yours,

And into your soul blow the air,

Filled with the scent of her love,

For the world to see that love evolved as your love.”


To the horizons I once more looked,

And saw stars waking up from all corners,

Oh’ then a smile spread through every luck of mine,

Once more telling how wonderful to be the love of yours.


 

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM All Rights Reserved. 2010 

To The Night

To The Night.


Oh’ night your silence in penance sung,

About the stretch of time as one you see,

A beautiful girl in the vast space lay,

As a beauty none see but live through everyday.


Oh’ night the darkness of yours all around spread,

And shown the past as twinkling stars up high,

Meteors like naughty kids ran across the sky,

Ah’ what more wonders under your dark blanket you keep?


Oh’ night you intoxicated me with the beauty of time,

And sleep came and took me by hand,

Then you shown dreams that made no sense to me,

Still woke up with a smile that told all will end in the happiness of all.


Oh’ night farewell I say as from east you erased yourself,

One by one stars you took to sleep,

And to the world the magic of the day you give,

With a star that brightens every moment in beauty and love.  


 

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM All Rights Reserved 2010.

The Glorified Image

Mirrors shown a miracle shining,
True face behind masks hiding,
Weakness felt as cold tears fell,
Tears with taste and smell of blood.

The true images with mirrors shattered,
Self boasted magician in wickedness smiled,
Gathered scavengers in hunger for flesh, blood and death moaned,
In the heart silence like a storm roamed.

Time given like rain clouds flown,
Opportunities like leaves in fall fell,
Life like the traffic on the opposite road went,
And the glorified image smiled,
Even when time all around sadness showered.

The Uncared Whispers.

This is an edited repost. The original post was made in December 2009. I said couple of weeks back I will repost some older posts here again to make someone understand my view point on something’s. I posted one and then things got busy in life. So my Xanga visits were a lot quicker than normal. Now I think is the time to post this again because of something that happened yesterday. Someone told me during my blogtv show to let the past go and with a clean slate go to the future. Now here is what I can say, Life is like a bangle, if you break a piece of it there is no value for the rest of it. Past is part of life there is no way I can erase the past from my life. It is where the present is built; it is upon that past future will be build.

I thought I will do a blogtv show. But called it quits as I have a bad feeling about my back. I can’t sit for 4 hours straight. By the way, no snow where I live, it warmed up to about 50F, so we will be getting some rain soon. I love rain too, wonderful to listen to the rain. It gives the feeling that the soul is trying to speak to nature. Or nature is trying to speak to my soul. 

Talking about listening to soul, (not soul music) here is a poem I wrote couple of weeks back, as someone in xanga told about making a piece of dance. I have nothing against dancers or dancing in general. Well at that time I remembered a wonderful dancer from India. She studied with me for more than 10 years. So I know her like my own sister. She was a dancer and last time we met, I asked her about her dance.

She told me, “Riaz, dance doesn’t exist alone, it needs music and the modern music does not get me to dance. So I learned music”

She sang a piece of music from Carnatic Music that made me wow. She wrote the lyrics in Sanskrit herself.

Then she told me…”Poet, I wrote the lyrics first, then modified it to fit to the piece of Carnatic music”. This is something I taught her a long time back, sometime in 1991 when we were together in a train trip. Her husband at that time told me, I don’t think she will ever write even one line of poetry. Now she writes in Sanskrit and she can translate that to three different languages. She is a Sanskrit professor now.

When I remembered that I thought why is this girl in xanga learning and trying to make a piece of dance which has no self existence. She is so talented in both music and poetry. She is just losing herself in her own fancy ideology of dance. Well why I said this. Because as a poet I know how good a poet she is. It will take at least 15 years of training with writing every day to become a good poet. In 15 years of dancing this girl will be destroyed from inside out. This poem is about that. Personalized in my form, hehehe what is that form? I think that girl and everyone should know… I write through a romantic feeling. Just because I write using romance as a medium doesn’t mean I am in romance with this girl or any girl I meet on the net or in real. I am way older to be in romance and I don’t have anything with me any woman can fall in love with (looks, money, skills, house, status) I just wanted to make that very clear to everyone now. I am a poet who lives with very limited set of priorities, I don’t plan much, and I almost live my life as life happens. There was a time when I loved and honestly I love that time. Now it is time for me just to write about it. Love in real is for people who are much more fortunate than I am.

The Uncared Whispers.

Oh how close were we and how further went we,
Hopes described but stood in the middle with eyes closed,
When right beside feeling breath we stayed,
Ah’ love indeed a double edged sword became.

Dearest, the net weaved for our own safety,
Now in it tangled the care and love of us,
And deep in the woods with creatures unknown live,
Looking for the feelings lost, crying for a drop of tear.

Never shown paths to a loving heart,
Always in suspicions of a criminal looked,
Oh’ the island you made in your own design,
Dance on it alone, in the rhythms of love songs I sung.

Dance the form of art, in music depends,
The best step in rhythm bound can only be poetic,
As in every step, in the rhythm of another heart you make,
The poetic heart of yours under your foot you crush.

My paths are clear, my life in simple priorities bound,
No dance moves, only whispers of soul unseen, heard,
As age binds and gives experiences of life you now know not,
Hear you will the whispers of your soul, the whispers I heard.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved