Author: riazahammed

No poem today. I was called yesterday evening for work. From morning Iwas there at work till about 2:00PM today. So I did not have enoughtime to work of some of the poems I am working on.
 
Well… It was an idea that came to my mind a long time back. In Decemberlast year I started working on it. This is just an experiment withwriting prose. I would say, judge yourself. I don’t know what more tosay about it.
 
Saju MonThis is a name my mother and most of my family call me. Ashan is myfamily name. It was part of my real name and was removed even when Iwas very young. As Ashan means master or guru. My father decided not toadd that to our names as other kids may make fun of us.  So now Iam kinda adding it to my nick name.

Tell me there what do you think.

Alrighty.

This weekend. Effed up big time. I feel sad, bad, angry and above allempty. I hope I will be able to find peace with myself soon.

Some people asked me in their comments for the pervious post who is
Valentina. Mmm if you have read the poem “Beauty By The Bay” carefully,
you would not have asked. You can also read the poem “A Day Of Love” It
is about Valentina I am talking about in that poem.

Now here is another poem. I don’t know how many of you ever heard about
the game Cricket. If someone wants to know more about this game, which
is played in Asia, Australia, The Caribbean Islands and England you can
check out the links at the bottom.

Cricket was my passion before girls and poetry… hehehe… true that. In
the blazing sun during the spring and fall in India we fried our skin
and flesh and sweated days in practice to master this game. Summertime
(June-through August) it is tropical manzoon season and there is no
chance of playing any cricket in my state. Rain will not shower it
pours straight for weeks.  Well… read the poem as it is not a good
idea to talk too much about a work before.

Vimala.

Twenty two and half yards part,
A batsman and bowler in Cricket,
The wide bat and gear to preserve,
Three stumps and a wicket of himself.

The bowler must bowl overarm,
Spin or fast he can run or just walk
Over the lush greenery to pitch,
To the batsman on hard graveled crease.

My childhood and adolescent days were spent,
As a bowler who can bowl fast,
Imran and Thompson, Lillie and Marshal,
Hadlee and Holding oh’ their skills a lot I admired.

The blazing sun of the spring and fall,
Fried skin and flesh and in sweat,
Played the passion of my younger days,
Day after day without any fail.

The smell of the grass fresh moved,
The dust from the pitch hard rolled,
Ball swinging and cutting through,
Oh’ the thrill of the bowler I felt in every vein.

Though a good player I was,
My thrill for the game as a player faded,
As life’s priorities changed,
And those I admired retired and gone.

Years have gone by, I left my little town,
And I roamed in the wild, wild west,
Not much about Cricket these days I talk,
But country men are around who love the game.

Many talk about the game, and many others play,
Some through satellite dishes still watch the game,
Games across oceans and continents played,
They all still hold a thrill a long time back I left.

Whenever they all talk about the game,
The lush grass and pitch, bats and ball,
The gear and thrill of bowling a batsman out,
Oh’ I remember none of those.

I always remember that little girl,
Who came out from hiding,
After a good game I played,
A face I always noticed, watching us play.

She ran to me and gave a garland of Jasmine and said,
“I love every move you make on the ground”
Kissed my hands and away she ran,
The first word of care from any strange girl I heard.

Vimala, a name always echoes in my ear,
A face upon my soul ingrained forever.
******************************************************************************************

Cricket An Explanation. This link tells you how Cricket is played, The rules, the pitch and everything else about Cricket.


Imran Khan. The irresistable Pathan from Pakistan. Called as “The Lion
Of Pakistan” is one of the fastest bowlers ever. Here is a link showing
him in action. Click Here.

Dennis Lillie. Though not as fast as all the fast bowlers Dennis Lillie was one of the best bowlers in the history of Cricket. Click Here to see him in action.

Michael Holding. Indeed the fastest bowler I have seen and the most
effortless bowler. He is such a master of the craft of fast bowling it
looks simple and easy. Click Here to see him in action.

Richard Hadlee. The most accurate bowler I have seen. Not as fast as
the other fast bowlers but it is his brain that does the job. Click Here to see him action.

Malcom Marshal. The most fearsom fast bowler. The most gentleman
outside. He is no more. He died of cancer. This clip is towards the end
of his career. Click Here.

Jeff Thompson. The unusual sling on action of a javelin thrower. The
one who still holds the record of delivering the fastest ball ever.
99.6MPH. Here he is not so fast but still deadly. Click Here.

{Start Update 02/23/06}
   It was a crazy day I am fine healthwise other than thatlot of things to do at work and I was at work. I did started a poem.. adifferent one. I thought I am done with it but once I took the pad fromwhich I thought of typing it in here then I thought I may have to rewrite somepart of that poem. It is a about an event and a person I met more than24 years back. Sorry no poem today. Just this update.
 
  Thanks for understanding.

{End Update 02/23/06}

Sickness comes overnight. I woke up sneezing all around. My nose allclogged up with a light fever. I took the day off and rested. Sleptmost of the evening. In the morning I finished a poem even whenmy head weighed a ton. Don’t ask me too many questions after goingthrough the whole post.. haha

Enjoy.

Beauty By The Bay.

The fog from the pacific blown,
Deep into the downtown canyons,
Steel and concrete, glass and plastic,
San Francisco most of the days woke up,
With the blanket nature spreads.

Down sleeps homeless souls who don’t feel,
The cold, in the intoxication of alcohol and drugs.
Prostitutes walking past used condoms in aversion,
Youth wandering wild with loaded guns,
And cops driving by heading home after a good nigh sleep,
Oh’ Tenderloin makes me wonder,
What fills in and what pours out,
Worthiness and unworthiness,
As all into the beauty of a great city merges.

Every step through Market street and Powell street took,
Spoke a piece of history long past gone by.
The old and new buildings all grand standing,
Poets and artists, musicians and actors all passing through,
This piece of time and felt I as if I am facing them all.

The Golden gate bridge facing Alcatraz,
The Bay bridge filled all the time,
The rich, poor and the always surprised middle class,
All walk through the beauty in the American west.

In the depths of this natural and man made beauty,
In my view the beauty perfected only with the beauty of a girl,
In through the city to find her I wandered,
The elusive girl that leaves an imperfection,
Upon this beauty of the pacific shore.

Oh’ my wild poetry like wild horses ran,
And came a colleague to learn my wilder rides,
“May be an American is not the one who can perfect,
The imperfection you see all around,
Look around the Russian hill you may find,
Russians never made anything perfect,
Except pretty girls who can perfect,
Any poets imperfect and wilder verse”.
My Russian colleague had his wilder ride on my thoughts,
And together we went around the so called Russian hill,
More beauty man made and natural filled my mind,
But still my mind and soul unsatisfied remained.
And we rested for a late meal around the bay.

Though far away from where we want to be,
The fog faded away showing the bare beauty of the bay,
And I said “Perfect it is oh’ my mind sip in the poetry nature sings”
My friend held my shoulder and turned me around,
Where I found resting the perfection all around the city I found not,
The Russian beauty, the bay in the fog free evening enjoys to the fullest,
Joined by two more eyes of a humble lonelypoet.

                                                          Valentina.

.Back to work… back to myself… wow isn’t it all sounds wonderful. An olddemon popped up. A bad one.  I won’t wait for fate to get to mynerves. I will get to it. Don’t worry. I will tell the details onceeverything settles down.

  Work is wonderful another of my application getting into production tomorrow. I hope everything goes smoothly.

  Not a lot going on other than that. All day I thought I am kindastuck with my writing and there won’t be a poem for today. But you knowI am a poet by birth. I may ask my mom what she remembers about thefirst words I said….. I am good. Yeah a good man indeed. Haha Selfpraise is equal to suicide. So be it. I love myself more after spending11 minutes on my writing pad. Got this one below.

  Now thanks a lot all for the comments you guys left for theprevious poems. Many new faces. That is good to see people coming hereand commenting before I comment at their sites. I will get back to youall later tonight. Gotta go and get something to eat.

Enjoy the poem and picture.

Half Naked Beggar.

The radio as an alarm cried,
And to the Angel song of Sarah Mclachlan woke,
Into a day that smelt like spring,
Still deep in the grip of that freezing old man.

Drown me now in the splendor of life,
Drag me away into the seclusion of love,
Sang in my mind while taking my morning brisk walk.
Oh’ weekends must be born like this day.

The Cardinal breezed passed my ear,
The cold wind beaten by the shining sun,
Oh’ warmth wondered me on this February morn,
As mind with fragile thoughts, filled.

My world, my world can I say?
That was emptied in a loser’s cry,
Oh’ no more I will weave dreams about love,
As all wishes buried in every step I took,
To melt away with whatever freeze left.

Though the silky sunlight adored me,
Loneliness is an empty frozen shell,
More to life than you exists, Oh’ love,
Oh’ alone I came to this world, unknowing,
For what, for whom this life to be lived,
Alone I will be buried knowing,
Love no longer is a queen of heart,
But a half-naked beggar with a hungry mouth.

 Wonderful rest I had on this holiday. I spent most of the timereading and writing a bit. I really don’t wanted to write anything. AsI thought I will take a break. Then I was thinking about how things canchange with one decision of person and how that will impact so manyothers. That is one thing I was always careful about when I do things.Most of you who read this may not understand what I am saying. As inthe age you all are in you can’t think about anything else but you. Iwas like that. But I am not like that anymore. Even though I say I onlycare about me very loud. I try my best not hurt anyone even withgesture or a look. Well… I have had profound success in doing so and ofcourse like every other man I’ve had my mistakes and failures. There isa price I paid with my success of not harming anyone by walking awayfrom many faces, gulping down the words that came to the tip of mytongue and turned away from the faces that in contempt looked at me.

I am alone.

I wrote a poem… some people may not like this at all. Well… I ampleased with this poem. If you don’t like it let me know what it is youdidn’t liked in this poem. I may re-write it a bit but I am not sure.If you don’t understand a part or the whole of it let me know at leastwhat you feel. So that when I re-write it I will be able to clarifymost of it.

The Real Saint.

The beautiful wonders he promised his own heart,
The lessons he learned in those promises unfulfilled,
Why did he shut his eyes to all that he left?
A negative force he became was all he earned.

The magical music he listened,
The wonderful words of love he never heard,
Oh why did he shut his ears to all the love he left?
All the positives of life he never heard.

Though all the negative he hated,
Life birthed and endured in every way,
Through the negative forces he always despised,
Oh’ why didn’t he shut himself up?
From all that consumed him.

Life away from the world five senses comprehend exists,
The world may offer no more love,
The negative forces through every vein tap dances,
That rebel inside counters every thing on the other way.

That which in negativity lived energized the way to positive,
The unloving world into the mind dissolved,
And all forces of nature became forceless tools,
In the hands of him for the betterment of the world.

Oh’ he looked back at the East when westwards walked,
Seeing the sun firing a billion arrows of light through the clouds so dark,
The whole universe before the micro microscopic human paused,
With a smile he welcomed a new morning when he offered,
All the love the world never known,
And everything in peace along with him moved.

A wonderful Sunday passing me by. I was restless all evening yesterday and half of the day today. Well now I am okay…

  I thought of doing many things in the weekend. Nothing happenedand there was apparent reasons for it. When someone I consider withhigh regard leaves I know it is something hard to endure. I thought itmay be because of my fault. But relieved I am as I now know I gotnothing to do with it.

  Well… I did not wrote much today. I thought of releasing thispoem in a book I am finishing. There are more poem than I expected. Myaim was to have 100 poems. But between November 2005 and today I wrote98 poems excluding the “Tess Of The D’Urbervilles” poems. All of thepoems may not be there in the book as is I’ve decided to re-write somepoems that are too personal. In all there will be 200 poems. The bookwas named long time back “Age Of Survival”.

Now this poem which I thought all will only see in the book I amposting it here. I first thought of posting it on Valentine’s Day wellI did not do that as none here told me those words towards end of thispoem on that day. Read it you will know.

Have a great week ahead of you all.

A Day Of Love

February 14th 2002, San Francisco. California.

7:30AM.

With the warmth of heating vent slept in comfort,
In the downtown hotel unknowing,
The day of hearts took birth far in the mounts up East,
Woke up from the bosom of my love,
Who without a word left.

11:00AM

The day matured with the busy life at work,
Phones sitting upon desk like dead frogs,
Mind in the logic of never ending lines of code,
And emails pouring in with the messages of more work,
Oh’ I wondered, if this day fell on a weekend day.

3:00PM.

My belly with Philli-Cheese-Steak lunch filled,
Coca cola kept me awake from falling asleep,
In the boring meetings of the monotonous work,
Oh’ flower for my sweet heart I ordered,
Long before the meeting room I left.
Never forgot to write a line of verse,
That goes along with the bunch of roses red.

6:00PM

Downtown moved faster than all day,
Out of office, to cross the streets I waited,
Streets filled with lovers of all kinds,
Straight and gay most of them walked,
With a smile and love all around blessing,
Everyone with a feeling of love and being loved.

7:30PM
With the beautiful flowers into the hotel in I walked,
To show the brightness of my love,
And fill her heart with my lines of verse,
And to feel the love of her.
Oh’ I wished for nothing else,
My heart swayed a bit about the wordless parting in the morn.

The door as usual took its time to open,
And walked I into the room with scented candle lights filled,
The great memory of mine all day forgot,
Like many, in the day of love busy thinking,
About their love like me,
Upon on the table a cake sat with candles in arrangement said,
“Happy Birthday, My Poet”

In all her glory she was sitting on the bed to share her love.

Mo Cuishle,
     You know why I don’t understand your decision to
stay away. I make a living using computers and internet. My whole job is done
through this. So being on Xanga or anywhere else on the web is just a past time
during my work. It may not be like that for you who spend most of the time
otherwise.

 Alrighty, I respect
your decision. I hope and pray whatever you do will be productive and will be a
blessing in everyway. Don’t worry like I said in my previous post. I will be
here and you are also free to comment on any post of mine.

I will comment on your Xanga, but it depends on when you
post and what you post.
I sure will miss your comments. I loved them. 

Life Is Complicated When One Acts Bad And Think About It.
Life Is Simple And Easy When One Think Right And Act Upon It.
LonelyPoet.

Hello,  Mo Cuishle,
     I said hello when you came online. I wanted to
ask you
this. Am I  the reason for you suddenly taking a break from Xanga?
Did I
said anything wrong in any of your sites? If so I am really sorry. Tell
me what
I should do. You were in Xanga before I came to Xanga. I don’t want you
to
reduce your visits to Xanga because of my comments. Okay, I really want
to see
you post back in Xanga and I guarantee you that I won’t comment at all.
Okay… I thought you enjoyed my comments and posts as you said in so in many
comments you left in my site.

  I wanted tell to you
that I commented for the fun of it nothing beyond that. Me insisting on you
commenting on my works might’ve been outrageous. I did that because I valued your
opinions. Don’t worry, the mistake was mine and I will not do that again.

  If the decision of
staying away from Xanga is not my comments then I understand
that.  This may be
just a guess in my heart that’s all. Please let me know… okay, I
never wanted to be a confusion in anyones mind or life. Xanga is a
place for girls like you as for me I have my own sites. I have gone
away couple of times. I came back because people asked me to. I will be
here, but like I said before I won’t bother you at all. This whole idea
of Internet blogging is for the fun of it, if there is no fun in it
there is no point in doing it at all. I thought you enjoyed it to the
fullest and suddenly when you said you don’t want to waste time. It
just did not added up in my mind.

For my peace of mind, please reply when you get
time. Because whether you believe it or not your good luck wishes
always worked for me. I don’t want you to have a bad feeling about
someone whom you blessed every ounce of luck of yours. If you don’t
mind once in while come and do that in my site because it truly works
for me.

The Signature Of A True Human Is The Smile He/She Brings On
The Face Of Others.
LonelyPoet.

WOW what a day. Awesome cold I loved walking around a bit. But then Ifelt too cold my nose needed saline spray to open up. Only 15 degrees….Brrr… but I love cold. That is the only thing I love in Albany. Otherthan that not a lot going on with me. A break from office. I thought ofgoing to New York City… kinda dropped the idea. I don’t want to upsetmy rhythm now. What is that rhythm mmm I thought I will write about itthen I did wrote. But that did not came out well.  Then Iremembered an old poem I wrote when I was in Milwaukee, WI. It wasinitially part of LonelyPoet.Com. I later removed it as it onlyexpresses a feeling and don’t have a real theme in it. Well… that’swhat I thought, what do you think?

If someone really want to know how I feel inside. Well… read the poem it will speak better than my prose.

Okay, my mistake. I did not give an intro the prose part ofmost of my poems that explains what it means. In a way I can add this introinto the poem but then it becomes yet another poem like any other poem writtenby any other poet. I am not just another poet on the web. Am I? I explained thepoem to limegreenideas this is what I wrote.

I wrote this poem in 1998. What I meant was I lost my loveand I don’t want anything connected to love at all. Even if it is sadness thatis going to replace in my mind. I will take that rather than the pain of loveor the wrath of love. The last line is a little different that from the wholepoem. How it connects to the poem is like this. If I can get rid of all thedreams, misunderstood thoughts and the fictitious expressions from both sides,my life will remain with the winning smile of the individual. That is me. Itwas written justifying why I call myself ‘LonelyPoet’.

Winning Smiles.

The cold wind felt warm upon my heart frozen,
The blisters upon my skin soothed,
When the frozen rain covered the cuts.

Oh’ sorrow, a word, with meaning lost,
Stretched inside my mind, lie,
Asleep after finding way into my mind in haste.

O sorrow, why you make the wind so cold,
Upon your arrival through every sense felt,
Even when the sun upon me, blazing.

Don’t know where the silver spoon from my mouth lost,
Peasant I am in words and deeds,
When heart stopped singing rhymes of deep felt emotions.

Dwell O sadness in my passions,
Scavenge my mind to the last thought,
For free I will be from the wrath of love.

Free I will be from the world of dreams,
Free I will be from thoughts misunderstood,
Free I will be from fictitious expressions.

Then glorified I will be with winning smiles.

Friday, a day started calm quite and warm. It was 56 degrees when I gotout at 9:30AM. I thought wow what a day. I should get out early andtake a walk around the hotel. Well from that point the day deterioratedbrutally, first came the clouds, then the wind then a bit of rain, thenthe wind started to cool down. It cooled down so much, when I got outof the office at 5:30 it was snowing haha. Well I a chameleon if snowis what is given I will take it. I was dancing in the snow flakes tothe tune of the Elton John song “Sweat It Out”.
  No panic for me only the weather panicked … I loved this day. Noissues popped up after yesterday evening chaos. I was thinking,thinking and thinking most of today. The reason…. Mmm the followingpoem. It started about couple of weeks back in mind as I thought ofwriting a funny poem depicting the events of my first trip from Indiato United States. But when thinking about a way to bring those eventsto a poem I wrote these “throw away lines” which made me a think a lotand brought back a lot of memories. So the down time I’ve had camealong with this poem. I know I need to finish this poem to get out ofthe bad feelings. Here is some information about the way I write. Ifirst start with a phrase or sometime it is just a word that connectsme to some event or idea from my life or someone else’s life I’ve heardor read which had a profound impression in my mind. Once I get the ideaI write something I call a rough draft. Which is a mechanical effort tofigure out what I should write. Then it is a play in my mind oremotions to get it all into my heart than in my brain. This is wherethings can go wrong with me personally. Many poems I throw away asemotionally they become a burden for me. Another thing that can gowrong is if I am writing about a girl usually there won’t be a girl infront of me. So from internet or magazines I select someone as kinda amodel. That will become another problem. I am not going say anything indetail about it. I did that while I started writing “Tess” well I amkinda still messed up with that.
 This one came way close to be thrown out. Well by today afternoonI found an end that I thought this is worth the effort of two weeks ofthinking, thinking and thinking. It is a long weekend. I hope everyonehave one or another plan for this weekend. May it become the best foryou in the next three days. I love you all. Have fun.

I found this picture above from the public domain use it if you want to.

MyConfession

The warmth and mystery by a billion kept,
Countrymen(1) who boasts about uncouth sanctity,
When their women worst than the worst prostitute act,
Behind closed doors and dark alleys.

Then there were the men who themselves call,
Patriots and brave when where nothing but pawns,
In the battle of politicians and money mongrels.

In the hypocrisy of life fed up,
And from the verge of hatred saved myself,
But before I left the birth land, declared I,
“Oh’ no boundary drawn by men can bind me,
To a piece of land upon this Earth so vast.
Philosophy by stoned men upon leaves wrote,
Cannot teach me patriotism and bravery,
My bravery is in loving not murdering humans”.

“You should not leave your motherland” said many,
For which I replied in arrogance,
“No land can show the face of my mother,
No wind can sing the rhymes she sung,
No warmth of the air can replace warmth of those hands,
I will only add the word ‘mother’ to the name of my mom”.

Then came to the land of wonders unheard,
Where illusions out numbered reality,
And from my life I erased the word, morality,
Though it showed up in bright colors again and again,
With a smile I ran after every bit of pleasure on Earth.

Though once in a while like a teenage girl, I whine,
About losing love, money, job and becoming a vagabond,
Deep inside the corner of my mind a smile blossoms,
As I play the drama of life with the script I wrote,
Long time back when everything needed given,
Even before, I wished in my mind,
There was only misery from my life I missed,
So I needed to add that to complete my life.

Every misery that came upon me,
Had the dark ugly hands of mine played,
A deck of card upon my own choosing.

But now everyday in wonder I question,
Myself, why I missed to add?
Another pair of hands I can hold on to,
Another mind I can listen to,
Another heartbeat that can rhyme with mine?

May be that part of this comedy,
Is up to her to write and finish.

(1) I was born and brought up in India. A country with the population of nearly a billion.