The Future Dream.


Blog Post About This Poem.


The Future Dream.

One after the other came ashore waves of lake,
Relentless passion even when winter upon them danced,
To touch the shore and roll back in haste,
Without touching braving the cold wind with a smile I watched.

Some wild goose still stood by watching,
Me in the early winter days that came in haste,
And got thrown out of the Northern wood screaming,
The curses some long lost lover left before suicide.

Looked back at the so called “Mid Twenties” days of mine,
Oh’ those days when as a potter I imagined and made,
Fantastic vases many adorned in their lives.
Then as a weaver myself I imagined and weaved,

Baskets were many kept all their valuables and some,
Kept their dreams along not to be lost in the haste of time,
When leaving those days to my own conscience I asked,
“What did I forget?” and he replied “A dream for future days.”.

The world ran, I ran along, life unfolded and I unraveled,
As I am no king who oppressed the kingdom for fame,
I am no pauper who begged for a bowl of trash.
Still the party of life took me and through masses danced.

Some nights I listened looking at far away stars,
Silence remained my conscience all through the wilder rides,
The potter and weaver wrote many verses through my smiles I wrote,
Then one day a natural smile through masqueraded colors I saw.

Ah’ the soul swayed, heart stopped and only footsteps of myself heard,
Through the vastness of my own experience I searched,
To walk away many ways I chose and decided to run and run and run,
Then the long silence conscience broke and said,

“You found your future dream.”.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM – All Rights Reserved – 2018.

Photo by Ashlee O’Neil on Unsplash

A Journey Through The Dark Paths.


Blog Post About This Poem.

A Journey Through The Dark Paths.

Conscience in harmony with the world spoke,
A world where lies looks and sounds like truth,
Where pets and printed pulp value more,
Than the purity of love and its suffering unknown.

Sanity O’ Sanity now-a-days a saintly act,
So drag me not O’ conscience drag me not,
For the world for reasons unknown need,
Me to breathe, me to smile and be your shadow.

As weather through the wilderness of modernity whither,
And hopes hold together in a mansion of meaninglessness,
A mansion where insanity of romance for you forever waits,
As time through dark paths into more darkness retrograded.

Silent I fell, no tears, no screams just the passions wrapped,
And through air passed sensations of a heart long lost its rhythm,
The hasting time and the frozen space left me astray to say,
“I will walk through the dark paths to reach the light of her soul.”

And from that whisper started a new journey to her beautiful soul.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM – All Rights Reserved – 2018

Audio – Song Of The Dying Nightingale.



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. Now in the book Age Of Survival – Collection of Poems By LonelyPoet.
Age Of Survival will soon be available on Amazon Kindle, B&N Nook and Apple I-Book. With an additon of about 80 more poem from the original 193 Poems.

The printed original versions are available on Amazon and B&N and old book stores.

Happiness Of Luck And Love.

Blog Post About This Poem – Please Read This Before Reading The Poem.

Happiness Of Luck And Love.

Summer’s fury in thick clouds and wind collapsed,
As the Sun took his chariots to south leaving a chill,
Trees shook in winds and leaves whispered prayers,
To hold on tight as autumn and winter woke up north.

Chaos ah’ humanity’s manufactured curse danced,
And people finished with all ways to divide and kill,
Weapons forged, armed to the teeth ah’ they all live,
Politicians failed in methods and policies, brewed new hatred.

Through the dark roads he drove as the cold grew in anger,
Still the daily chores without fail completed and drove home,
At his door he saw a broken legged raccoon scrambling for food,
Ah’ the sight took a beat or two of his heart in the cold and rain.

The world may throw cruel tantrums at his life,
And life in those cruelty fund brutality into his nerves,
Still deep inside stays a Soul from God’s own glow made,
And that soul told not to sleep without feeding the creature in cold.

Never cared for the cold November rain and he took,
The cat food he bought for the creatures in his backyard lived,
Laid the food and to his house with a prayer he left,
Then later in the night to see the creature ate or not he checked.

Saw the creature not high but upon the tree the raccoon sat,
And the kind man looked up at the creature to check his welfare,
But the creature as if saw a repulsive monster turned its face,
Ah’ the soul never swayed but sprouted a smile upon his face.

The smile came as he remembered a lovely girl he loved,
Loved her from his heart and soul in the best of all he knew,
But she erased her smile from her face when he told her what he felt,
And away from him looked the last time he saw her and at her smiled.

He left the creature and the night and falling rain to their chores,
When sat in the warmth of home once more soul made him smile,
For he knows the right he did and what happened in real,
Life indeed happens to people in different but mysterious ways.

Ah’ his soul to his conscience through his smile whispered,
To live in happiness without mysteries of luck and love.

© RIAZAHAMMED.COM – All Rights Reserved – 2018.

Photo by Jordan Whitfield on Unsplash

A Date With Sorrow.


Blog post about this poem – Please Read This Before Reading The Poem.

A Date With Sorrow.


What name will you call me sorrow?
For in you I lost mine and also I lost,
The definitions of what made me who I am,
And all that was left were fogs of darkness.

What definitions should I give you sorrow?
As shredded verses in the depths of soul echo,
The fantastic fascinations of yours that obsessed,
In giving hope and then leaving tears upon lips.

What reason should I find in your arrival sorrow?
For with you came shadows with no figures,
And self-doubts without origins and mockery of life,
Ah’ through you gone were the smiles from faces.

Life’s cycle started slowly, so did the setting of you sorrow,
Nightmares you left made me laugh, love you took danced,
In mirages not that far. Oh’ no storm will last forever,
And no curse upon you my soul ever will leave.

All the love you took from me Oh’ they left ne sorrow,
The very definition of me I thought in them I lost,
Ah’ none of them meant to me anything of worth,
For all definitions of my own self, defined in the love of her to me.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM – All Rights Reserved – 2018

.Photo by Rana Sawalha on Unsplash

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