The Farewell.

My conscience held my hand like a tyrant held his throne,
Life boasted about my good deeds and hid all my bad ones,
The ones that made me a little man than the iron and starched,
Who walked by treasures of the ocean of the material world,
And chose a lonely desert where life stays hidden.

I searched not any hidden paths nor the hidden living under,
Walked through the blazing heat and the frozen nights,
Nothing brought me down in will-power fueled journey,
My poetry flew into thin air and my story untold remained,
Ah’, no quicksand drowned me even when I wanted.

I rhymed not with anything in my journey through zeroes and ones,
I famed not as that world never found the desert dweller,
No fortunes anywhere I sought to cloak my body that cloaked,
The soul once as an empty vessel I carried through wilder greenery,
My soul as a fortune unfound so my journey goes unnoticed.

If searched, Ah’, you will find, I loved and I lived her love,
I lost and I live through pain given by her even in the desert,
Ah’ those flowers I see are strong and no winds or heat can break,
Their will to sprout, survive and succeed beyond all despairs known,
The steps ahead though through forceful loneliness will be happy.

© RIAZAHAMMED.COM – All Rights Reserved – 2021.

The Solitary Soulmate.

The verses written, the ink has dried, the love conveyed,
The sheets lay all around, in every bit of reality, scattered,
Like the life my love gave me when about loving you I spoke,
The tests of life everything existing thought I failed but not me.

A liar I am not, a hero I am not, a humble human I am not,
I am the one who looked at and in that instant knew,
All the meanings of the meaningless, all the hidden, revealed,
As such was the power of love for me, Ah’, in your eyes I saw.

Oh’, dear, my soulmate, love cannot be given or felt in solitude,
Love felt cannot be hidden or kept suppressed for any reason,
For the pain through life comes, Oh’, so unbearable it will become,
The weeping eyes will pray to your soul to accept me in your love.

I am no street-mongrel begging for a piece of moldy bread,
I am no stranger whom up close you know not nor understood,
I am not the villain in folklore trying to steal a princess into darkness,
I am the one your soul into your whole being whispered as Soulmate.

© RIAZAHAMMED.COM – All Rights Reserved – 2021.

Photo by Geran de Klerk on Unsplash

A Quarrel With A Dreamer.

Miles and miles of cornfields passed and my car carried,
With power, the broken-hearted through the mid-west lands,
The melted snow and ice fattened the streams beside roads,
And steadily flew as if in a hurry to reach somewhere unknown.

The heart beat in steady rhythm of some unheard song,
Questioned I the reason for the pathos heart followed,
Conscience and fate refused to answer my reality,
And I woke the dreamer and told him a joke or two.

The dreamer told me about a bow he once held,
And took arrows one by one and fired through thinning air,
None hitting anything fell all over the field in front seen,
Each one disappearing after the fall not to be found.

“Such will be the fate of life without reason and meaningless”,
He said, and left me to thoughts about the love I lost,
“what meaning should I find in my love, when the one I love,
Left for another man and the world in mock filled laughter?”.

Silence ended our quarrel and I passed more miles of fields,
The sun setting somewhere beyond the southwest horizon wept,
The twilight spilled blood one more time and into dark left,
I watched my fate of meaninglessness unfold yet another night.

© RIAZAHAMMED.COM – All Rights Reserved – 2021.

Photo by Rob Potter on Unsplash

Shadows On A Young Face.

Remembered I about old folks in my young days I met,
They passed their days in occupation and business of many kinds,
Evenings they passed in gossips and radio drama and music,
Most slept little, when they slept they drove away ghosts with snores.

Always talked about their youthful days of games they played,
Love they sought Ah’, how shy they looked when about love spoke,
I passionately spent many days and remembered in regularity,
As nothing they did for the world to remember, long after they are gone.

One day, a relative of mine said “How wonderful poets are!” and recited,
A poem by a famous poet of folklore and love that caught my heart,
I looked through many journals of mine to see if any talent for poetry,
Nothing I found, still I wrote all I felt good in form of verse I chose.

Someday, someone who knows nothing may read and learn,
About me and all that I cared and all passion that made me write,
Oh’, they will learn about the love I felt and the love in honesty I gave,
They will know always in the folds of my heart she lived and loved.

How many men are out there who can boast about their love?
Talk, tango, and sex won’t make people lovers nor even people,
The sanctity of understanding, the passion to embrace that feeling,
The feeling of the soul senses cannot feel through love gained.

How many men are out there who can differentiate?
Between themselves and stud-bulls in southern farms,
Oh’, women of the world find the lover who can love,
And make you remember by the generations to come,

Or all the fake love slowly grow in your senses and soul,
As shadows forever upon your veil-less faces will show,
Darkness you will feel even in the best, divine ever gave.
Such a shadow upon your face I see, my dear, my dearest.

© RIAZAHAMMED.COM – All Rights Reserved – 2021.

Photo by Christina Spiliotopoulou on Unsplash

Abandoning Conscience.

Betray not your soul in the cry of the wicked world,
Screamed the conscience to tell you word to word,
I sat on my seat unmoved and looked for an excuse,
To challenge conscience for a battle of thoughts.

Conscience at times loses all grammar of life,
Through my failures I bring, order and stability,
The so-called wicked world from our eyes hide,
Reality, with masquerades of immoral pleasantness.

In younger days many times and many ways I failed,
Then one day I told a story about my fake achievements,
None but my conscience were there as the listener,
And I woke up as a sad liar who achieved nothing in life.

When the world made me older and from me expected,
Wiser than the wicked ways of my wilder younger years,
Where did my conscience lose his ways to my reality,
I know not as all left in my hands were a betrayal of life.

As in my search for that lost conscience, I later heard,
The melancholic tunes from the throats of a lovely bird,
Following her tunes and rhythm in a path well shown,
I found my conscience that gave me a choice,

The happy version of the melancholic tune the bird sang,
Or forever stay with the righteous conscience of my life,
After years spending my lonely life in tears at last I smiled,
And told the bird to spread her wings upon which I flew to you.

© RIAZAHAMMED.COM – All Rights Reserved – 2021.

Photo by Klara Kulikova on Unsplash

The Knightly Thief.

Sun gathered his might from inside the night,
All distant stars surrendered their dance and left,
The glow, Oh’, I compare to the might of glow I felt,
When into your soul I looked through your angry eyes.

Angry you were at me for verses I wrote or as an unworthy man,
To like you in romance and make you feel loved than one in dreams,
I challenged that fate, learned to love you more as love I surrendered,
Obliterated fear and learned to love better but failed in the fear of yours.

Thought and thought as the sun of our love prepared for a nightly dip,
Fought and fought like a sanctified knight protecting his queen,
Those dark chariots of our love’s night I fought off as I became,
The star, the sun, and all that love seek though unworthy I maybe.

The glow I gained, Ah’, not from my soul but from your soul,
The conqueror of love indeed stole the love from your soul,
For when in your soul I looked all I this knightly thief found,
Love in all its purity and a mighty glow meant only for me.

© RIAZAHAMMED.COM – All Rights Reserved – 2021.

Photo by João Voltolini on Unsplash

Tragedy Of A Game.

Those tall man-made trees with glittering lights stood,
Many like a living monument of the civilized world,
Concrete and steel, wood and pipes all held together,
In them like birds in real trees lived, many human souls.

Headlights joined street lights and shown a path so clear,
As slowly moved the car through the wilderness of the smart,
Unfolded were empty streets and silent alleys all haunting,
A dark spot for the unloved to play hide and seek.

Games of many kinds lovers play, games of many hearts too,
Love of purity and sanctity an old-times wonder and play,
Sat back on my seat as cityscapes browsed past my drive,
Never learned, never played games of emotions and love,

And as nightly cold wrapped his dark grip on those trees,
I prayed for miles I drove back home to find peace,
I spoke to shadows who greeted me with unseen smiles,
As sleep gnawed my mind I said, “Still love you Little Boss.”.

© RIAZAHAMMED.COM – All Rights Reserved – 2021.

Photo by Jonathan Cooper on Unsplash
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