The Failed Distractions.

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An Updated Poem. Read the original intro…

“This poem was written in March-April 2008. It was first posted in my blog on April 03-2008. In 2005 I met someone and felt an emotional connection to that girl. As the situation was way “inappropriate” I tried writing poetry to self mind control exercises to distract myself away from her. This poem was written at that time and the end result? mmm read the whole poem to understand what happened.”

Well that version of the poem was posted September 13, 2011. Time is not just a healer, it is a fantastic teacher too. So MoCuishle and me went sideways after nearly a year after posting this poem again on the blog. Like I always told that young lady, life goes through cycles, events comes back with new people and it did. So “practice of nearly four decades ”now is “nearly five decades”. I tried once more to distract and end up saying “Oh’ what a failure I am” ….


The Failed Distractions

Listening to the brittle drops,
Shattering up on the blades of grass,
The T.V speaks its own language,
Imaginations in the depth of those events lost,
Though fictitious, mind filled in those fascinations.

Life comes not in the cheapest ways,
Always takes its toll in account of time,
And none could do anything about other than say,
“damn it” and go back to listening.

Oh’ how wonderful it is to see and hear,
The nesting birds even in the spring who lost,
The warmth somewhere in the embraces of winter,
The old man who is still kissing the beauty,
Of the young and colorful spring.

Those little chirping birds show,
How to find ways through the given time,
Even when the paths are not fitting,
For barefooted ballet dancing.

Nothing ever brings to mind boredom,
As whatever happens is the moments truth,
Which is what is given for the moment,
Through the times and paths of life learned,
To take what’s given and never to wish,
For what’s not given or earned.

Easy it is not to be patient,
But with practice of nearly five decades,
Learned to cope with sadness that engulf mind.
Sadness, just another emotion like happiness,
Comes and goes at will in a passion filled mind.

In these days from all that have gone by,
Learned not to say “I don’t know”
If said, will be the worst crime,
Against the consciousness of oneself.

The days carry on through cycles,
That moves fast through time these days,
Still some wishes and dreams fight inside, undying,
The metaphors and similes lay slaughtered,
As reality that dies not and heals not,
In time or with any knowledge and experience earned,
The truth remains as is, O dear, it remains,
That none of the distractions tried worked,
As I love you more than you and I can imagine.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2008.

Photo by Haley Phelps on Unsplash

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