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Mornings I Share.

Woke way before the drums of day in the east beat,

The dark frozen blanket of winter ray after ray torn,

The dark clouds above loomed,

Morning like a shy teen girl giggled,

When the frost melted and upon dead leaves fell,

Oh’ I wonder and wonder why you were not here with me,

To feel the warmth of the heart of a poet,

Why you were not here to sit by the bay window and see,

And sip in the pleasure of mornings with me,

Mornings day after day with loneliness I share.

Love You

The arrival of love, Oh’ the emotions and ways none knows,

The eyes open wide, ears like wings spread,

Nose will take breath deep and hold,

Heart like a rose open and sway,

Lips utter poetry till that moment meaningless now meaningful,

Oh’ all means only this, Love You.

The dividing walls Oh’ upon it hard I hit,
The harder I hit the stronger it became I felt,
Graffiti broke and all around fell,
The sticky posters held on tight though torn,
The flowers of love under the feet crushed,
Still some up high their heads held,
And as if in a consoling prayer, swayed,
Far beyond that wall, love in the land of wind, danced,
Ah’ when walking away defeated,
Upon that wall that divided our love I looked,
Oh’ my own torn face in a never stopping smile I saw.

“True love” is like your mother, she can only conceive you once, she can only carry you once, she can only deliver you once. Then forever she is your mother. There can be million people who can look, speak and act like your mother. None of them will be like the mother who conceived you, carried you and delivered you.

I thought many times whether to write this poem and after writing whether to release this poem because of an ethical issue in this poem. To all readers I have written this poem out of reality but don’t worry I am fine and I will be fine. I don’t want 5 comments saying how sorry one feels about me. Nope I seek no kindness from anyone. Someone once offered it and I rejected it and I will reject it. I seek nothing more. This is it. Even if I write a poem this year I will not be able to post it here because of the maturity time it needs before it can be released. Poetically .. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah and A Happy New Year.

To Time.

Gather not the memories of these days,

For in these days Sun rays make me cold,

The wind made me feel shy,

The trees stood bare naked and watched,

The gymnastics with the love of mine I did.

Oh’ I fell and all bones of my passions broke,

 I lay defeated for the rhythms of heart I heard,

Only mine beyond my thoughts for me lived.

Reality she will follow,

She may fall or she may fly,

She may remain hidden,

Or through every vein of a generation she will run,

Her success and failure time will bear witness.

Gather not the memories of these days,

For these days are only steps to a day,

When I will take another girl by hand,

I will take another girl in my hand,

And again and again myself I will curse,

For not becoming the love of her.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2011.

Today I made a post on Facebook with a lot of frustration as some people got some serious issues with me having multiple accounts there. For that one of my friends from UK responded agreeing with me. The first part this poem came out of the comments I wrote in response to his comments. For finding an end to the start, I went back, yes, I went back more than 6 years and took a wonderful event from real life and made a scifi like scenario to end it. Hope you all like this poem.

Those Unshared Lucky Stars

The songs of motivations into ears blasted,

Foot in different way all around moved,

The body moved as if all bones inside broken,

Then they shouted, “Dance for life,

Dance for liberty,

Dance for a mindful of peace”.

Yes all danced, sang and danced,

A generation beyond their capacity hyped,

The whispers in minds echoed,  

And they say they hear voices they understand not.

How will they understand when in intentions,

They don’t want to understand?

Oh’ the generation following the degenerated,

Phantoms of a past even time want to forget,

Oh’ they fell in ditches they themselves dug,

And the outstretched hands empty remained,

As for many the trap to capture life they set,

Oh’ their own graves those traps became.

Through unpaved paths he ran,

All around the lands screaming “My Darling”,

Chanting verses in which he praised,

The beauty and talent of a poet in traps of life’s bureaucracy fell,

Oh’ he heard not a word or reply in growls,

Growls of society in which her nightingale voice buried.

Then all his material senses he shut,

And into the depths of the spiritual senses he searched,

From the past above the horizons rose,

All the lucky stars of her to him she once gave,

There and then to her what she gave he returned,

As his material senses to him with a storm came back.

The flying debris and the dust blinding,

Oh’ through them a hand he saw he can never forget,

The hand that wrote the best verses he ever read,

Out of the dark cold ditch he pulled,

And before she could see with the storm he left,

As the same lucky stars, in no ways, two people can share.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2011

The gatherer I am not of broken hearts,
For the act I do to feel what I want to express,
Time and again from the bottom of my heart I said,
I know not to love in real,
I know not how to care in real,
For I am not worthy of any companionship,
I only write what in the bubble I paint.

The bubble about which many times to you I told,
The bubble about which to the world many times I told,
From every event that I have known in real,
From any event I heard from others,
From any event about which I have read.
Ah’ I make an emotional bubble, into which I paint,
The images about which I want to express,
Oh’ many models I may choose,
Many ways to express I may choose,
And to you and all who read again and again I said,
It was all an act I do,
To feel what I want to express.

Still who am I to critic who you are, you asked,
Aha, and to all you know slander about me you spread,
Oh’ wonderful to know the poems I wrote worked,
But felt sad when known,
You made me someone I am not.

Many, many times I apologized,
To any hurt I may have caused,
All those times I made it clear,
All I have done was an act I do
To feel what I want to express.

Now no more apologies I can say,
No more favors I can do,
As to the world you chose to spread,
Spread slanders about what I am not,
That lie broke the bubble about you I made,
And with a question blown away, “Who are you?”.

The poet once more a lost cause,
The vagabond mystic none can care about,
The man and poet in different world they live,
Now united to make a new bubble with a new pretty face.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2011.

Here is the blogtv presentation of the poem.

Freshly baked from the oven of my mind here is my new poem. J The idea of the poem came in earliest of early mornings of yesterday. First I thought this is a one lame idea I cannot make into a full poem. But when the day progressed and night eroded then when the day came up, whoops the whole idea I wanted to write kind of came to my mind. It took two hours to write the whole poem. So there can be grammar mistakes, there can be typos, there can messages from my devilish mind. You name it, all gonna be there my sweet readers. I am who I am, in the way I am, the best part of me is the definition you give me and that can change in a matter of seconds. So I am dynamic, you know what is special about being dynamic? I am not perfect. No one is. No one can be. I write in the way I want to write, I speak in the way I want to speak. If I see wrong I will say it is wrong. I will show no hesitation to say what is in my mind. Those who can’t tolerate me, there is an unsubscribe/unfriend link. Just click on it and go away. The LonelyPoet needs only him and those who want to be with him.
  Well if I continue I will say things kids should not read. Hehehe.. but let me finish by this. I am a man who love without conditions, be it a friend or a romantic lover or brothers or sisters, my love is unconditional. The only conditions one can imagine is in ones own imagination. So look back and evaluate and see, hear and feel the love of the one man, the lone man, the LonelyPoet.

The Miner And The Gem.

A millennium came, a millennium passed,

Days like the currents in the depth of an ocean flew,

Seasons flourished and then to hibernation went,

And worldly ways through spirit of life the miner learned.

Around the world to many places he went,

Then in the lands of the Americas he came,

All through his plight every moment he searched,

For that mine where the Gem of gems birthed and grew.

With all the tools and knowledge he searched,

In darkest of the darkness he searched,

In the middle of crowd he searched,

Then mined with tools and knowledge of the spiritual world,

Mined and mined with tools and knowledge of the material world,

Ah’ found he where Gem of gems grew.

Into the mining for the Gem he poured,

Every ounce of spirit and energy he got,

When sun shined, away his sweat he wiped,

When the rain lashed floppy hat he squeezed,

When the snow all around fell, the shovel he cleaned,

Ah’ when the flowers bloomed,

Along in his mind a smile sprouted.

Raw in the depths the Gem of gems stayed,

The miner moved closer and closer to grab,

But the Gem of gems has a will of her own,

As raw in the middle of dirt she wanted to stay,

Oh’ no matter how much rock and dirt the miner tried to move,

The Gem of gems away from him swayed,

Into the depths of inevitable chaos she moved,

In the rhythms of the madness of a cunning world she moved,

A dance the miner on his own will don’t want to stop.

The Gem of gems is not just another precious one,

What the miner found in not anything wrong,

No wrong to the preciousness of the Gems he ever done,

Only to make her more precious the miner tried,

Oh’ the miner only half way through can mine,

The rest, Gem of gems with her will must come,

But to his disappointment the Gem of gems stayed afar.

Then down and down she went,

A drowning from his knowledge of past the miner know,

Nothing he can do to but to watch,

The fall in all inevitability will come,

The Gem’s will Oh’ to remain in dark, in dirt and to destroy in dull.

All his tools to whither in weather the miner left,

As for him no past exist,

Without the preciousness of the Gem of gems,

All in present, meaningless, like ghosts stood,

And the first step away,

Future with emptiness welcomed.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2011.