Category: Uncategorized

Okay
weekend is knocking at my door now. I love to sit idle after a hectic
couple of days. It took five days (evenings and nights) to write the
following poem. I posted some of the so called “throw away lines” as a
poem in the previous post. You may wonder what’s up with the dates. I
will make it clear here now, the poem starts in the recent past and the
rest is a look back from the future and the poem end in the future
itself. Don’t get confused.

 

The
last poem made out of the throw away lines confused some people. Don’t
take any of my poems as messages with hidden meanings. Someone accused me of doing so. They are poems, in one way I can say, works derived out of my thoughts and perspectives.
I tried to give vagueness to give the poem a universal appeal. It will
help the reader to paint the imagery in his/her own way in mind. There
are events I make up, some from real events of my life or real events
I’ve heard from others to write a poem. Most of the time it is a
mixture of reality and fantasy that were used to write a poem. Don’t
think they are specific messages to specific people. I am going to give
a serious look at most of these latest poems and posts before I do
anything about these accusations.

 

Reason For A Walk In The Freezing Rain.

 

December 21, 2005.

 

There was fog everywhere I thought,

As every image ahead, I have seen,

Into fragile colorless vapor blurred,

Oh’ late I realized,

All those images were unreal,

Abstract painting of a dream,

A dream with imaginary threads weaved,

A dream that should not have seen,

When knowing about the impossibilities,

Of the realization of my love,

Upwards my head I raised,

When from the depth of my soul I tried to erase,

A face that filled every bit of life cherished.

 

December 31 2029.

    In the cold morning winter rain I walked,

Where every corner of the concrete jungle surprised,

In the cold freezing rain, to see a human on foot.

 

A day in its own chaos born,

Dragging a lazy old sun into the life of sinful humans,

Some days I wondered when and where will end,

My murmuring soliloquy from the depths of my soul,

They will never end I know,

Even from my grave one will hear,

The whisper of my verses,

Prayers, for the love of men and women to remain,

Everlasting, even after time demise into eternity.

 

There were days when I wondered,

When will the subject of my verse change!

It will never change I know,

As every line is the celebration of my love for her.

 

On every day of cold rain I look back,

In a path, in all its inappropriateness should have walked,

But the innocence in those eyes, into my eyes brought tears.

 

She lived in me all the time,

She for every new day made me thrive,

The games of life gathered,

For yet another round of gamble,

And into my eyes she thrown,

Hundreds of kaleidoscopic images,

In each turn my soul danced in joy.

Never seen her through the eyes of lust,

As she is the fairness of every bit of love in me,

The gathering of every moment of my future,

Me, the one through the narrow key hole always looked,

And she opened the door to love and life, wide open.

 

She who polished the poet in me,

In the ever elusive nature of her,

And with the vague talks of her.

Every word of her an image,

Every image a dream of mine.

 

With every thought about her, gladness re-birthed,

Deep inside and like a winter storm spread,

Freezing every bit of sadness that danced,

Upon every vein of mine unopposed,

She, from my life erased,

Every complexity with the charm of being the blessing.

She, the one who made every dream of mine,

A prediction of a future so bright,

The light of that future kindled,

Thousands of candles in the present of mine.

 

Oh’ those candle lights through my mind spread,

And weaved the thread of that unrealistic dream,

Oh’ years passed by those predictions,

But left I all those predictions knowing,

The love so undeserving for me and unattainable,

But that light she left in my mind will remain eternally.

 

Now when wiping away the freezing rain,

From the wrinkled up forehead,

A head I always kept high,

In the middle of this crowded world,

Also wipes away unknowing to the world around,

The essence of my precious love from my eyes flowing,

To hide away those tears from the ones,

That loves me from their heart unconditionally,

The only reason through the rain I walk.

Song Update.
Here
is a song by A.R. Rahman, performed by S.P.Balasubramaniam. This is
from a movie in the language Tamil. I know this langauge a very old
Dravidian language one of the best poetic language I’ve ever heard.
A
bit of information about A.R.Rahman. He was born to a father who was a
music composer. Music was his life. His name was Dileep and even as a
kid shown amazing talent in playing Keyboards. His life changed when he
visited a Sufi shrine in Chennai, India. He converted to Islam and
accepted the name Allah Rakha Rahman, later he did music for a movie
called Roja. One song from that movie shot him to hyper fame. Now
A.R.Rahman is the most popular music director in India. His  name
is not just part of  India anymore, A.R.Rahman is the one who is
doing music for the Lord Of The Rings Musical Play.  Here is the
Wikipedia results of A.R.Rahman
This
song in the link is from his 1994 Movie ‘Duet’ I love this song for the
wonderful Saxaphone arrangement. Enjoy the music and have a wonderful
weekend. En Kadhalae

 

What wonderful things I can think about I thought. Yeah… thoughts,
they are crazy things that come to my mind. I don’t know what is going
on in my mind now-a-days. As I don’t have a computer I think a lot,
write on paper a lot psst I don’t even know what all I write.

Well… work kinda slowed down a bit as there are not much issues
popping up around. Yesterday I talked to my mom on MSN, she is still
with her sister, I got her when she briefly came home. They are all
still in a gloomy mood after the death of my uncle. Other than that
nothing much going on with my life. I don’t think this is a calm. I
hate calm times, because my life pattern clearly taught me what will
come next. Life will squeeze me into a drum and roll me down a hill.
Hehehe… now I am so used to that sort of downfall. I usually shut
myself out during the calm itself. In my best calculation, it will
start sometime in the third week of this month. What is it? …. mmmm…
I don’t know. Even if I know what it is coming… I won’t try to stop it.
Because I love my life that much.

Last week I told that you all may not see a short poem from me for
sometime. But here is one poem I wrote.  This one came out of
throw away lines. What that means is when I write a poem I usually
overwrite to break any kinda blocks. This was written while I was
writing my latest poem. That is one long poem and I am only close to
finishing the final version. Typing that in itself may take some
time.  I read this before I cut off these lines from that poem
then it came to my mind that someone may find this interesting. I don’t
think I can use this to anyone as the “love in me” is dead and I am
looking for a proper place to bury it all and take a good long walk.

Message Of Love.

 

When the sky bears the tears of earth,

With dark clouds and flashes roars,

In my sadness, your face I remember,

The face that took away every color from my eyes,

As focused on you is all my love.

 

When upon the rock walls the ocean pounds,

And all over me, the cold bubbles splashes,

Cold deep into my marrow touches,

I remember the only time your hand I held.

 

There exists no other face in my mind,

Every breath, every beat of my heart,

Every drop of my blood, every footstep I take,

Every star I see, Every song I hear,

Bear witness to my love for you,

And I will bear witness,

To the innocence and sanctity you bring,

To every corner of this globe.

 

May the touch of your soul be the measure,

Of peace of every kind in this world,

May every action of yours be,

The symbol of love cherished by every lover.

 

I love you.

 

Better late than never, haha, Happy New Year everyone. Whew… no NewYear celebrations for me because of work and death in the family that occurred a week back (there are 40 days of mourning after a death inboth Islamic and Indian local traditions).
Said that… I also did not had access to a full computer. I was using my PDA for Instant Messages and E-Mails. Thanks to the office administrator Jennifer in the hotel I am staying, I now have unrestricted access to a computer in the executive center in the hotel.  I probably won’t abuse this privilege. Though I used it to chat to a wonderful mother of a wonderful person this morning for about couple of hours. I hope everyone had a good new year celebration. I first thought I will wait till I get my laptop back before I post any poems. But as I’ve had nothing much to do other than watching the Monk marathon yesterday, I thought I will post a poem.

I have talked about this poem when I posted a poem called “The Lady Of The Woods”. This is a look into a road I myself passed. Then, when I was in the middle of it all, I was angry, frustrated and sad for many,many things. Now I look back and laugh at many things. The last year that went away was a bad one a real bad one. There were turning points when I took wrong turns. Well… may be 20 years down I will laugh at those wrong turns.

Enjoy the poem. I don’t know when I will be able to sit and read many poems and comment on your sites. Work is really tightening its grip on my neck now. I will try my best my friends, family and my darling.

The Story Teller’s Wish.

The little heart in innocence always dreams,
Imaginations in a fancy world, always feeds,
The colors to paint the perfect images,
Each one a frame in a never ending movie.

Recess in school during rainy days imprisoned,
And left kids in school room in boredom,
The chubby little fighter, who for attention craved,
From his observations and imaginations spoke,
Stories none else ever dreamt about,
The other young ones gathered around in curiosity,
Away from wet corridors and boredom,
Some into the storyteller’s imaginations fell deep,
Some where just curious onlookers,
Many just to avoid the fighter’s beatings.

One day he was Gulliver in Lilliput,
His magic challenged Mandrake in Xanadu,
Killed many pirates as the next Phantom,
Flown around in heights and speed of Superman,
So the story teller upon everyone kept his tight grip.

Years passed, the fighter got kicked out,
From school after school for his violence,
But even the worst enemies stopped and listened,
Some even encouraged the story teller in him.

School days were over and then came the college days,
Filled with girls and friends the storyteller thrived,
Hi punch on the nose and ears became legend,
Though after eighth grade he punched none.

From superheroes the storyteller evolved,
From real life events he weaved stories,
About life he lived and about life he heard,
Through the stories he learned the craft of lying,
In the best ways in which he convinced,
For every pleasure of youth, from love to lust,
From games to money and from laughs to tears.

The college days passed and the storyteller moved,
World apart from his listeners, who in their own way went,
His stories changed from lies to realities,
From his own success and failures he weaved,
Stories about the life seen, heard and felt,
Most of them only his soliloquy heard.

The essence of many he versified,
Depressing many but for escape of his conscience,
From realities that burned every inch of his unloved soul,
Where alone he wandered through lands unknown,
When in the middle of the crowd he screamed but unheard,
Where the storyteller became the story.

In his mid-life he looked back,
And wanted to write one more story,
Not with quill and ink or type into any machines,
But into the heart of the one that loves,
About the love of him that came from his soul,
No lines were ever written as his love was lost,
Somewhere in the dark shadows of his own past,
Now one last time he prepares to punch the nose and ears,
Of the shadows of his past that lingered,
And move on with the never ending search for that loving heart,
To write those unwritten lines of his own love,
Taking every bit of his own essence,
Giving every bit of his life and love, unconditionally,
A passion, a dream and a wish of that chubby little storyteller.

Thanks For Visiting And Probably Reading My New Post And Poem. I am
saying this in a protected post because I thought you probably may
comment on that post. You did not. I don’t know why? If you have
something to tell that you don’t want others to see go ahead. You are
the only one who will see this other than me.  

If I said anything offensive then I am so sorry. I really didn’t mean
it. What I was saying was just the fact about the short poems when I
promised to finish 6 more large poems. I know you are busy with other
stuff than reading and commenting on mysite. It is okay with me. But
when someone steps into your room and walks out without saying a word
that raises some doubts as to if I hurted you by saying something in
the post.

The one other question that came to my mind was your mom restricting you. I
don’t think she will because we have had a wonderful chat.  Still
if there is something like that then don’t hesitate to tell it here. I
will make sure that I will not comment on your site again. Okay. 

We are getting into the middle of the year end week. Looking back I can
see a lot of things happening and not happening. I will not pursue what
did not happen as I am too old for that. I should be looking ahead to
what the handful of priorities I live with have to offer. Well I think
many will be thinking the same, I mean the older group of people here.
The younger ones, don’t think about it. You are in the process of
figuring out what priorities are out there for you and chose from the
millions, which one fits you well. Yesterday I told someone about a
teenager “Pray that she don’t learn from her mistake, but from her
wisdom.” The same is what I have for you all.

You all may be wondering what I am blabbering about hehehe, don’t worry
I am not going anywhere. I will be here. I am shifting the gear a bit. My
computer needs serious repairs. If I don’t get it to Best Buy this
week. Then there is no chance as the extended warranty expires this
week. So, may be you all won’t see me for some time. Well you all may not see
another short poem like the one I am posting here. I wrote the shorter
ones and posted them here for a reason. That reason is what I use now
to mock myself. I don’t want to elaborate on it.  When I say
changing gear, I mean, most of the ideas in my head are all set for
long poems. Most of you kids may not like them at all. But I will only
be me. I will not become what someone else wants me to become, or I
will not write anything anymore to get the comment of anyone.

If I get another computer from Best Buy I will be online but I don’t
know when I will post another poem. If I don’t get another computer
then let me tell you all a very happy new year. I love you all and my
prayers will be with you all every moment of the day.

A Missing Face.

Thoughts torn by seasons passed,
Oh’ the remnants still lingered,
In subconscious, disfiguring every shape of love.

Came along, filled in mind and wiped away,
All the remnants of an unholy past,
No magic wands of love waved,
No wonderful words spoken,
Placed yourself in the space of an empty soul,
The unknown vastness in precision defined.

You are the one who made my life a monument,
Of everlasting smiles to every soul that touched mine,
Now I can only look inward to find you,
For you are far away and I hear,
Only whispers of your speech to another soul.

Oh’ there are no remnants anymore,
As what you left fill in,
Every bit of my conscious being,
But will sure miss seeing the pretty face in real.

A day I spent talking to many people planning for the New Year party.
Well it is still in planning. I have to see what happens at work. Other
than chatting with a wonderful person nothing much for the day.

Now
this poem I am posting today. I wrote it just a while ago. Yesterday I
was chatting with another poet from whom I haven’t seen any work in
recent times. During the chat she told me that she doesn’t have a lot
of time and she is quite happy with her life these days. I told her
that I write everyday, not because I am unhappy all the time and have a
lot of time, but because I enjoy the whole process of writing a poem.
Well this is how I get to a poem; it may be a casual talk or a passing
sight, later it will come back to me and help me to write. And I truly
enjoy the joy of writing including this one.

A Poet’s Happiness.

Unhappy and gloomy he lived,
Writing verses about life and love.

Oh’ the sadness of the love lost,
The unhappy late hours in loneliness spent,
The pain and illusions sustained,
The new faces and passions redefined,
All fueled new verses deep from heart in pain.

The intoxicating passion of poetry squeezed,
Every vein beyond every reason believed,
More pain and more verses flowed,
And dreams of love meant nothing anymore.

The new love filled eyes in front like marbles rolled,
Oh’ the poet walked away from happiness once more,
As every thought of happiness erased,
One line of wonderful verse from his mind.

My Christmas eve started well with a lot of calls going out and coming in from my mobile phone. I didn’t looked at who all are calling. One call came and I answered, my brother who is vacationing in India right now called me to give the bad news. My uncle(my mother’s sister’s husband) died, oh,it was a shock. He was 81 and was ailing a bit but when I heard he is no more I was really shaken because he was a good and charitable person. A very important person in the family. The man who introduced my father to the family who got my mother married to my father.(it was an arranged marriage arranged by him) one of the best loving husbands I’ve seen, married my mother’s sister when she was 13 and he was 19 that was a 62 year long marriage. May God Rest Him In Peace.

Merry Christmas again my virtual family. I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas. I made my lamb roast and ate it myself. That was the first time I tried that. Not that bad at all. But I screwed up the dishwasher by putting in too much detergent, foam is all over my kitchen.
Other than that, chatted with couple of my old friends earlier today. Talked to my cousin. Then chatted again with Mo Cushle for the first time. That went well. Chatted for sometime with another little girl Randa. Well other than chatting and talking on the phone here is what I did. Finished one of my first drafts, it is a bit long, but worth a read.

The Garden Of Love.

From the dreamless world fallen,
Where darkness always loomed,
Upon every feeling of passion passed,
Every feeling of affection vaporized,
From all those away I moved,
To the garden of love, oneself looking,
For the fulfillment of a wish, long cherished.

At the glimpses of roses of all colors,
The lilies, daffodils and orchids wondered I,
Oh’ how beautiful it will be ,
To be in this garden forever.

In the excitement of the new sights,
Tried I to touch the roses red,
The thorns cut me deep in vengeance,
And I wandered away looking,
For water to clean my hand bleeding,
Across the path a stream I saw,
Rushed I to take a handful when I saw,
Snakes waking up to hissing,
Fearful I ran to the shelter of a nearby tree,
And hard shelled fruits started to fall,
As if thrown from above.

Away to a nearby cave I ran,
On a valley covered with white tulips,
But from the cave charged out a bear,
The most fearsome I have ever seen.

From corner to corner I ran,
Where behind every pretty life I found,
The most fearsome creatures hiding,
And out of the garden ran I,
But in the overgrown creepers caught my leg,
And into the nearby pit I fell,
Where leeches and worms all over me creeping,
But with all strength out I ran,
Into the dark valleys of the material world.

Oh’ never thought the garden of love so wild,
To trap the unsuspecting lovers who walks in,
And pledged never ever to return,
With pain all over and a bleeding hand away I walked,
But the pain of the broken heart drowned,
All other pain I felt.
The fearsome creatures took away the fear,
Of the darkest material wilderness,
The trapping beauty of the garden,
Brought in the cunningness to survive,
Even the worst of the passionless world of pulp.

On the banks of a dark roaring river I sat,
And in tiredness my eyes I closed,
Then in my minds eye I saw your eyes my darling,
Stood up I rejuvenated with my love for you deep rooted,
And towards the garden of love rushed I,
To take on face to face every fearsome creature,
To overcome every trap,
And to win your heart my sweetheart.

There is not a lot to tell other than the greetings. That’s what Ithought. However I was thinking and recollecting a lot of thoughts thathad gone through me in this year. The year have only a week moreremaining. It was a tough, turbulent and in many ways optimistic year.Now we are nearing the end of it and I thought about what impacted memost.  As usual poetry came up first. So I am going to rate fivepoets that impressed me most here in Xanga.

1)    poems_are_my_soul.Lauren. A wonderful poet with great understanding of how to work withemotions and bring it out into poetry. She also show the remarkablecapacity to understand others poems. I told her this couple of times.She is the one poet who understand my poems to every word I write. Hertalent in bringing images using words is amazing.

2)    Kekeway_Arinya_Mekae.My Mo Cushle Sam, the best imagery I have seen from a poet. In fact sheproduces poems with images, I mean real pictures. She does have theextraordinary talent. I don’t know how much she will put herself intothat talent. She writes little these days.

3)    Rosesforalostcause .Helen, She can take any situation and develop a poem out of  it.From ordinary class situations when she is in Math class she will comeup with wonderful poems. The one among all the poets I selected whoknow how to best use her talent.

4)    Soulofthpoet.Ariel, she is a lot similar to Sam in many ways. They both know eachother through me. The difference is Ariel is one year younger butwrites a lot more than Sam. With age she will get better. A lot betterthan many others.

5)    Amymozo.Amy, there is a lot of promise in this girl. She is a lot similar toHelen. Situation is not a problem and there is no hesitation inexpressing. She need to go further into playing with emotions andfeelings that inspire her to write. She will get there.

I picked up young talents because I need to encourage them. The olderpoets are all there. They all don’t need any encouragement. Haha. Idon’t know when I will rate poets again. It took three weeks for me todo this. Surprisingly I just couldn’t get a guy in there. Shame on youboys. Some of them I read are reckless drug addicts. Many others toomany eff words. Some others want to marry Elton John hehehe. You knowwhat I am talking about.

Now everyone, this is a Christmas eve, most of you may read this onlyon Christmas or the day after. I only have prayers and blessings tooffer. Remember Christmas is all about remembering the birth of one ofthe greatest man ever lived. With the simplest of means in the shortestof times. Rediscover yourself in simplicity.

Merry Christmas/Hanukkah everyone. Be blessed and be a blessing.

Here is a small poem after a long post. I just wrote it that’s all I can say about the situation .

To The Snow Flakes.

Oh’ how beautiful and fair, caressing my cheeks,
I blush at every touch of yours,
Cold but melting upon my lips,
And upon my eyelashes.
Snow they call you, with love I see you,
Cooling me, kissing me, all over blessing me,
From the darkest of the dark clouds,
As the fairest of the fairest.

Days later you are nothing but ice and dirt,
People walking over, sneezing and cursing,
Then as always ahead I look,
At the future so unpredictable,
Raise my hands and make a prayer,
For the world not to treat me,
Like the world treat you.

If I am going to talk about the last two days, oh boy I will drive you
all away from my site. Everything a human can go through I have gone
through. There were angry moments, sad moments, never ending waiting,
full blown screams of joy, you name it, it was all there. Now I am
sitting here in my couch thinking about certain things.

 Now something different, the best looking women are not the best
of the kind many times. Most of them are self centered bitches. Keeping
the sex aside they tend to care more about themselves than anything
else. The not so good looking women… I don’t know haven’t been around
them much. The worst looking kind… they are the worst kind. They all
have attitude problems big time bad time and they pour it on any guy
around. So the handful of good best looking women hehehe they are all
taken. The remaining best looking women, they are out there all set to
rock-n-roll. Like I said in the beginning of the post, everything
happened. You figure the rest.

Here is a poem I wrote yesterday. I did not posted the poem as I wanted
someone to visit my site and see a post. Sorry everyone for that delay.

Have a wonderful weekend.

The Losing Smiles.

I waited and waited, rushed and panicked,
For the glimpse of fulfillment of a hope.

Devine in the never ending chain of thoughts,
Passive in the negativity that bloomed,
Pleasant when thought about sharing thoughts,
And every care from heart and in actions.

Verses flowed from every thought about you,
But hope remains as hope and in creeps,
The slow but steady grip of pain,
As the realities still so unrealistic.

Every step away from you I take,
Every thought without you in mind,
Brings a drop of tear in my eyes,
In those painful drops I lose,
One smile at a time meant for you.

                             

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Merry Christmas And A Happy New Year.

 This is a gift. I don’t expect anything in return. That includes a public thank you message or comments on my poems.
Okay. Enjoy.

Riaz Ahammed.