Author: riazahammed

haha many said, I am not a loser. Now it’s looks like anything or
anyone I support also will end up being losers. Poor Packers lost again
today. I had this hope of them getting their act together. And I
thought they are going to pull this one off. Too late, it was too
late. It is too sad to see Favre walking away with his head down. I
hope they get their act together and get some wins and end this season
decently. Any Packers fans in my list, pray for them. They need a lot
of prayers.

Copy of my update in LonelyPoet.Org

(End- Copy Of Update)

I am just finished watching this movie. I bought both movies based on
Thomas Hardy’s novel. To be frank with you, I did not liked the ending
of both the movies. But I would advice anyone interested in the story
to see the 1980 Roman Polanski’s adaptation of the book. Though not
perfect, Nastassja Kinski’s performance is amazing. Polanski with the
limitation of time and space did a remarkable job. Though some part I
wished to see was not even mentioned it still creates an effect. I’ve
seen the Polanski version a while back in 1998 it was a bad cassette
and had a whole lot of problems in watching the movie.

 The A&E edition of the BBC production gives a little more
detail but still sucked with the ending. Justine Waddell is no Tess.
She looked too old for the role still the Anna Karina girl did her best
especially towards the end of the movie. But screwed up the last words
“I am Ready”. I laughed out loud when I saw her saying that because it
was that bad.

As it was a fasting day and now finished my fast, I need to prepare for
tomorrow. Like I said in my post earlier I may not be able to finish
the poem by that deadline. It is a deadline because Octorber 3rd
Ramadhan starts and all my other activities comes to a halt for a month
usually. Poetry is the language of the heart, I pray to God not to be
angry with me for giving poems away for free to some of the wonderful
people ever lived. So don’t worry.

 As for that small poem it is an eight liner I wrote today it is
meant for someone special. I hope she sees it and understands it.

I AM A LOSER, NUMBER 1 LOSER.
Finding
out that there is no way I can achieve my love is hard and painful. I
am living it every micro second of the day. But accepting my faults
and  getting up from the fall and regretting the curses I said
about my own life were all fun. At the end of this work week though
ironical, I am laughing. Lot of events this week kept me away from what
I love to do most my poetry. But the harm done is small. I am getting
back to Tess. I hope I will be able to relax a bit more this weekend
than in the week.

This is an old poem I wrote in 1999. Those of you have visited LonelyPoet.Com   might’ve read this poem. Here is the situation I wrote on top of the poem when it was first released in  LonelyPoet.Com

 
“This is the longest poem I have ever written. It took only three days
to complete, but what is in the poem is all real. For a long time now I
was going through a sort of a bad patch, and I never thought about
writing anything about it. I wrote the starting of the poem sitting at
work at that time my close friend Ian Schulman called me on the phone
and we were talking about all the things that happened in the last
eight months and he asked me to write about it. That gave me this idea
which starts in the present goes into a dream and ends somewhere in
between. I dedicate this poem to the tall lean sweet-heart of mine.”

At
that time it was dedicated to “Her” I’ve moved on but history repeated
though not in the same way or situation. I failed my own conscience
once more and went after a wild dream. I should’ve never done that
considering my age. I acted worse than a mad man and I am sorry for it,
though sad and feel the pain of lost love in the same way I felt around
six years ago. On a similar day I wrote the above said paragraph and
started writing the following poem. Now I modified a line in the poem
so it is kinda a fresh version.

The Flame.

Oh’ I wonder about these days,
Cold and frozen in all ways.
Looking up at the sky I see,
The sun that lost all his glory,
And at night a pale old moon,
Playing hide and seek behind the clouds,
All set for the rebirth of a good old dream.  

From my younger years I built,
An empire so fragile,
Which some call as the journey,
Some define as a drama,
Where everyone an actor.
Days, weeks, years and decades I passed,
Which I proudly call as my life.
All the time in my soul a flame I carried,
Which more than my life I cared,
In the wild paths of life,
Which redefined passion and care ,
In the enlightment of dreams,
When blinded by passions,
The flame carried me along,
Giving warmth and comfort,
In the frozen loveless days.
With the flame all my life I carried,
I kindled a candle that never melts,
The candle kept me warm,
After fate turned its bad side on me,
Fate became a cold-blooded monster,
Pierced its claws deep.
Thrown out from the track,
Penniless, jobless and broken-hearted,
Knowing no pain, no feeling all frozen I lie,
But shivered when heard the blame on her,
Blames that became storm of curses,
And me left with the choice of her or the flame,
Ran to her with no more thoughts,
And cloaked her with my wings of love,
When the storm of curses spread the fury of fate,
Blinded by the snow and high speed winds,
I felt the warmth of the flame,
Looked up and down and all around,
I still felt the warmth of the flame,
In the end in the cloak I looked,
And saw her holding the candle I lit.  
The dream passed by like a monster cloud,
With ear piercing thunders, that echoed so loud,
Into my ears the echoes whispered;
“The life of a dream remains,
In the soul of the dreamer,
The fulfillment of a dream,
Is in the light the dream leaves,
In the heart of the dreamer”.  

In these dark days of mine,
When everything around seems,
Frozen by the fury of fate,
With the light of that flame,
That shows me my dreams,
I see my ways to her,
And the warmth of that flame,
Saves me from becoming,
Yet another frozen soul.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. This poem was released in LonelyPoet.Com in the winter of 1999.

I really don’t want to add another post here so I am editing the post I made yesterday.
I
have severe pain on my twisted neck and shoulder. I was supposed to
post an introduction portion of my Tess poem here. Now when I look at
it I think I will wait when it is all over and this pain goes away.
I
am changing the background song once more. It is called ‘Original Sin’
a song from the album “Songs From The West Coast” by Elton John. Listen
to the lyrics of this song it is wonderful. I love the video of this,
in which Mandy Moore is featured with Elizabeth Taylor and Elton John
himself as the old guy. There  they show the back of a young Elton
John but in another video from the same album we can figure out whose
back it was, Justine Timberlake.  I am just watching the music
video collection of mine. I am sorry if the post above is depressing,
that is the way love and life works, I will survive this.  Here is
a short poem I wrote in my update at LonelyPoet.Org

Do you understand what I say?
Do you understand my handicap?
My hands and tongue are tied,
Untie them with your words,
You write upon this heart in pain,
And filled with your face and thoughts.

A head start for all of you about my latest work.

I love writing in the night. In these days of no work at office I haveplenty of time to sleep during the day. Now I thought I will justupdate you all about my work here in xanga, which is poetry. My poemhave grown beyond my own imagination. Before going into it. Here is thecharacter. It is Tess from the classic novel “Tess Of TheD’Urbervilles” By Thomas Hardy I am writing about.

 My approach is to make the same sequence of events in theoriginal novel. It was not that hard to find the book online as it wasreleased by Project Gutenberg. I further confirmed that I can make aderivative work out of this text. As I am following Hardy’s vastdescriptive narrative the poem had already out grown my ownimagination it stands at 829 lines as of now and I am nearly done withthe 5th section “The Woman Pays” I will keep you all posted as to thedevelopment of the poem in the coming days. My plan initially was towrite one long poem each for the each of the seven sections followingthe original text. But the fifth section itself will come to more than500 lines so I am breaking it into two different poems. The plightwhich was vastly explained is itself  will be written into onelong poem. In my rough estimate the first drafts will be around 1600lines and the final draft will not be that long.

  This work I am doing is in no way a replacement for the originalwork. I am using a lot of phrases and some dialogues from the originaltext itself as they are indeed poetic ones. Keep in mind Thomas Hardyhimself was one of the best poets I’ve read. So no matter how much I tryI could only imitate him. Not better him.

Now I have already written a long post here. I wonder how many will bereading this post itself and I wonder how many will be reading thoselong poems. Like I said in a reply to another post. “what Iam supposed to do or rather liked to do is going to be done. Rest isthe choice of the people”.  The best part of it all is simply theenjoyment of the whole process. Yesterday, one of my friend called meinsane poet than LonelyPoet. haha I am enjoying this insanity or justintoxicated in the inspiration of poetry. Whatever you may call it, itis far better than the normality defined by many fat ass people. As I don’t drink or do drugs my friend was surprised when she read aportion of the poem I wrote which I sent to her in IM then she told me “Hey, thisis beautiful insanity..”  haha

Here is the Project Gutenberg text I am following.. Tess Of The D’Urbervilles-A Pure Woman

Hi All,
  It’s been a while since I said anything here. Well there isn’t alot going on. I am just waiting for the next assignment and usuallybetween projects I get really busy, talking to various companies,taking interviews, doing paper works etc..
  As for writing, mmm there is a lot going on in that side. I decidedto make a post here as a head start. I told couple of people who visitshere who are on my IM about this. I am writing about a character whoimpressed me a lot when I was in the teens. Many of you may havestudied the novel from which I am extracting this character. This is along one, longer than anything I’ve written so far. What inspired me towrite now after all these years is the plight I am going throughlooking for work. The very many places I’ve gone to and the hundreds ofpeople I met, most of them I still get in touch with. This characteralso goes into a plight of her own looking for work. With hope onhopes, dream about dreams in the ‘Pure’ heart of her heart. So far fromthe seven sections in the novel I have written first drafts of fivelarge poems and totally my poem already streached about 600 lines. Iwill post the poems here in seven parts on seven different days. But Icannot say when will it happen. My aim is to post in the first sevendays of October.
 Now who ever reads this post please take this as a Trivia andguess who is that female fictional character that touched me so deep? Irecently written in my update in LonelyPoet.Org this line ” Looks like the best feelings I’ve ever felt for anywoman is a fictional character”  Other than what I have alreadywritten to get an idea about the character look in my site in variousposts. And to those couple of people I’ve told  who thischaracter is, please hold your words.

Good Luck with the guess.

I just changed the background song. This is the all time favorite songof mine. It changed a lot of my attitudes when I first heard it in 1990.

Hi All,
  I apologize for using the word shutdown in my previous post. Iwill not close down this site. But considering the little amount oftime I have. I will not be updating this site often. I will be updatingmy site LonelyPoet.Orgeveryday. I know some of you will sure miss my comments. I don’t thinkI can do a lot about the comments as I won’t be having too much time tocomment on others works.

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

I think people are all busy, many kids
preparing to go back to school many others busy saying bye to their
summer love and a lot of others still perplexed before some lost
opportunities. I am seeing summer and all its ingredients for a long
time now. I myself have gone through it many times. Even
though I hate the summer heat, I love the arrival of fall and bright
days hesitating to give way to those dark days to come. In those days
I take a walk and there is a spiritual nurturing to my soul in those
walks and every time I walk like that I know I will end up with some
piece of verse that makes me feel real good for sometime. I usually
give that piece of verse some time so that it can mature in my mind.
But today I thought those people who comes out of their busy lives to
visit this site may need this.

Well said that, there
isn’t much people visiting my site these days. Hate me for this, I am
seriously thinking of shutting this down and concentrate more on my
poems and my own network of sites. I may miss a lot of you, but there
is a time to move on. I don’t know when that time will reach my door
step.

Here is the poem.

The Chance.

The summer wind blown up the dead dust,
And so on went up a tale untold,
Through the digital magnificence,
I saw a face so close but yet so far
away.

The ways are all closed I thought,
No more dreams I can weave,
As entangled I felt in the unfulfilled
ones,
Not anymore I can drag my heart,
And back trace the passions deep inside
so fragile,
When in the depths of thoughts bury
Dreams in a lifetime weaved,
As I may see you go holding another
hand.

But as the dust settles and heat bids
farewell,

When earth turns away into another
side,
There is a cool breeze brewing,
To blow up the dead leaves falling.
In those leaves some days rested,
My dreams I thought will remain green,
Everlastingly through many seasons to
come,
But no well said verse may describe,
A feeling I wish I could repeal.

Alas, the seasons have changed,

So the clarity of the reality,
That face will remain in memory
evergreen,

So I will feel what felt
every time I walk,
In a summer evening
bidding farewell,
To the singing birds and
welcomes,
The fall of life all
around nature,
The cold breeze reached
the top of the trees,
And the howls sounds like
a prayer,
Of nature to nurture the
beauty,
Through fall and the
freezing to come.

Will I ever get another
chance to dance,
In the April rain and
whistle,
On a bright summer night?

I will not get another
chance I am sure,
As forever I will remain
in this chance I’ve got,
As the warmth of the
memory of these days,
And the light left in my
heart of my love for her,
Will always keep the
freshness of spring,
Even when everything dies
and freezes over.

It is raining outside, I love the sound of it, smell of it, sight
of it and touch of it. There is a lot going on inside of me but little
outside of me. There is a passion for action but there isn’t anything
that I have to support that passion. There is a world out there that
defines everything differently than me. Or am I really passing that
thin line here? The thin line between insanity and the normal. One
thing is understood, normal is defined by a set of fools who never
thought how life can get complicated in this era.

What do I do for fun? A set
of things which includes writings, talking, dreaming and a lot of
sleeping. Well I think I’ve had a lot more free time when I was working.

Here is a poem I wrote
while sitting in the flight from Milan, Italy to New Delhi. I wrote
kinda a first draft of this poem at that time but did not reached
anywhere. I added some more in Kochi, where my mother lives. Just two
three weeks back I broke that poem into two. This is the latter part.
The first seven lines which I added last week was very real.

Featherless Wings.

The bad ways that led me in paths unwanted,
At a dead end left alone,
Nowhere to go, not a step ahead possible,
And the ways passed all puzzled in time passed,
 North, south, east and west don’t meet anymore,
Horizons left astray colorless,
Every moment deep in the womb of time died away.
Every prayer, every good ever existed,
Passed through mind to gather oneself,
As deep in the heart once lived the feeling,
Of love for that soul unknown,
Came back with a tempest,
That took me away in flight,
I flew with birds of colors,
Who all sang about the pastures destined,
Wordless in the awe,
So pleasant and in the flight so focused,
Whistled a tune that came to my mind,
My hands guiding the mind through thick snowy clouds,
And upon the hand came and rested a bird,
She sang into my ears,
A song that counter-points my tune,
“I flew to the north,
I flew to the south,
I went east and west until tired,
I heard the pride of the birds,
In the beating of the wings,
I have seen the beauty of minds,
In the respect for each other,
But none came together anymore,
As lifeless became every creation,
Until this tempest came,
With a passion took us in flight.
But the power of the feeling so great,
When I sat on the featherless wings,
And listened to the tune of yours,
I see the direction of your flight,
And feel the intensity of your will,
Can you hold me on your featherless wings,
Till you reach the destination of yours,
Where north, south, east and west will meet,
To celebrate the love of yours in her soul.”

 ©RIAZAHAMMED.COM.

My busy days are over, the
project I was working on was implemented successfully. Thank to the
great effort of a great team that worked hard. I am proud of being part
of those wonderful guys.

Last
four days went like the click of my hand. There is uncertainty looming
outside my door, but I am too lazy to walk out of door and shook hands
with that bad guy. You know what I mean. In a nutshell I was sleeping
most of the time. Now I think I am well relaxed. Because the following
is what came out of a deep rest. Enjoy this one. It came out of one of
my drive recordings.

About Life Around.

As if like a puzzle at life looking,
And wonder what made it so complex,
Everyone for everything in life competing,
When so simple was everything in its creation,
Oh’ God may be laughing at all the winners boasting,
And pathetic losers, who all fought for illusions on earth,
When in reality both will storm the worst cell of hell,
Which they created when complicated life with,
Laws, rules and unrealistic order,
That made simple life unlivable,
For themselves and in that frustration,
Made hell on earth for every soul of truth.

Oh’ the fighters who believed they are for truth,

But seen only the shadow of truth,
Who all walked through the path evil paved,
With an illusion that showed mind-boggling beauty around,
They all believed, fought and died in those illusions,
When what they should’ve sought,
Was the simple truth that lies in the compassion for others.

Oh’ the very truth I’ve learned from the history of mankind is,

Actions with no faith is like a bubble in the wave,
It just crashes on the rock of truth,
Faith alone will leave one isolated from reality,
But the union of both with compassion and unselfishness,
Will untie the unknown meanings of life sought by those who fought.

I may elaborate on some part of it. But tell me what you all think?

Busy days are
blasting into my life. The best part of it all is I still have a job.
How long it will go? Who cares! As long as the money is coming I don’t
mind doing this job. What is next? God never told anyone to ask that
question to even lifeless things. So I don’t ask that question either.

   I
miss commenting on many sites and I am really sorry about that. I will
do that as time permits. Other than posting a book in my lonelypoet.org
site and commenting on a poem posted there by ShadyLane I did not do
anything poetically. I think I am going through a sluggish time in
reading and writing. That is what this job(computer programming) will
do to a poet. Keep him grounded without allowing anything. But I have
found a way around I have a digital recorder. I get most of my ideas
when I drive. So I always keeping my recorder on while driving and
whenever I get an idea I just record it by saying it aloud. There are a
lot of them now. I will get back to it all and write it “as time
permits”. Said that I remember one of my ex-girlfriend Valentina  who
wanted me to recite my poems, recording my works recited by me. It is
horrible to listen to my froggy voice with the worst possible accents.
Somehow she found some enjoyment in that.

 I
am not happy or sad so I think I need to get really angry. The best way
to do it, listen to my own voice. That’s what I am going to do. Pull
out those recordings and listen to it.

  Xangans
here is another poem I wrote a long time back. I am also posting the
original comment I left on top of the poem when I first posted this
poem in LonelyPoet.Com.

 I
went for a walk in the gloomy evening, all through the walk some
feelings were making me pleasant. It might be the thought of my sweet
heart, that’s the only thing that will make me happy now a days, but
when I came back home I was feeling very thirsty but I don’t drink even
a glass of water for about an hour after my evening walks, but the
thoughts about the love of my sweet heart for me, filled my heart, soul
and all my nerves and my thirst had faded away. These lines of verse
came out of me during those hours of thoughts. This poem was written
not in a day but took three weeks to finish.

 Stranger

Upon the hill I see,
A vanishing shadow of my dreams,
So far, so high they show up,
And fade away like mirages,
But through the golden light of dusk,
I saw a tall lean figure,
Thought it was just another dream,
Left my thoughts, left my hopes,
Back to my sleep went I,
But expectations brought them back,
From my dreams, from my sleep, woke up I,
My big-ben clock reminds me about noon,
But through the window I still can see,
The golden light still upon the hill,
And the figure near the well,
Woke up now is my soliloquy,
Just murmured into my soul,
‘Upon the hill you see the light of her love,
Near the well you see herself,
Waiting for you to be there to kill your thirst,
Not with the water from the well,
But with her love from her soul’.

 
©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. This poem was released in LonelyPoet.Com in early spring of 1999.

It is kinda little late in the evening. But after a long day of well
deserved rest I am up and thinking. It might’ve been a wonderfull
weekend out there. But I decided to get my websites a look. And made
some additons to my lonelypoet.org site.  I wonder other than me
who visits that site hehehe. In the coming weeks I will be
concentrating more on my sites than this blog. That doesn’t mean that I
will not be updating this site. But all my new poems will be first
posted in LonelyPoet.Com. Because I feel like abandoning my own
children when not visiting my own sites.
  I owe a lot of
people a lot of comments which of course I will do. But for the time
being I am going to get out of my  home go where I don’t know and
whom I will end up with that also I don’t know. The night is mmm its
still pretty bright out there to be called a night.
 Here is
a poem I wrote reflecting upon a real life event. Or to put it in
another way I saw a real event and it popped up a lot of personal
feelings inside of me which inspired me to write this poem.

Tearless Eyes

Alone in this world I live,
Discarded by the world I love,
Leaving no hope for desires abandoned,
And the loved ones stands perplexed,
With unanswered questions that freezes,
A life filled with love for you,
But even in the loses shed,
Not a drop of tear in pain,
None came to my eyes that remained open,
Every moment of life lived for you,
But with very little care I know,
Waiting for a moment of happiness with you.
The tearless eyes wondered the crazy world,
As happiness is just a bubble washed ashore,
In the sea of sadness in life,
May be sadness is a sea I am used to,
But in happiness may shed a drop or two.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM This Poems was released during the 2000 sydney olympics.