Today I did a BlogTV show after nearly 3 months. Whoops it was an Epic Fail. Nothing went right.. I screwed up reading poems, only 5 people showed up. Then after finishing the show I kinda looked at myself and remembered some part of this song.
The Elusive Poem.
There is a simple way life that can be lived, it is easy, do not bother anyone. Oooh… it is easier said than done. Do you know what our main problem is, we are attention freaks. We can never live without the attention of others. We crave for it, and because of that we do freaky things, which in turn make us all look bad. Then what do we do? Depression, compression of arteries, drugs, alcohol, rehab, feeling insecure… you name it. Do you know there is a positive side to things and none goes through that way? The choice is yours to make and you make the wrong choice and then feel bad about it, blames others some becomes maniacs and are lost forever.
I once made a bad choice, right after that I did not know that I even made a choice. The reality was unacceptable; the beauty of the illusion, amazing. Then I started writing more and more. That act looked bizarre to many there is this one soul I love and respect who once asked, “Can you forgive yourself?” and at that time I thought there is no way I can forgive. Because there is nothing to forgive the very choice led both of us to understand how good we are. The positive side of things we ventured helped us to be sane. Writing got her into mind, writing got her out. When I said writing got her out, mm may not be 100% true as there is always a place for her in my heart and she will always be there. The very thought of that act to straighten things out gave me the first lines of the following poem. From there it flowed like a river in mid spring time. The style may be familiar to my readers, as I have already written and posted couple of poems in the same style here, in the course of my time here.
The Elusive Poem.
Write, Write and write about all that I wrote,
Wrote, Wrote and Wrote,
Many lines onto my mind embedded,
Many to dreams evolved,
Many dreams made me write more.
Oh’ so many thoughts, dreams and dreams about dreams,
With care, love and passion I weaved,
The material heart beat fast for senses to comprehend and reflect.
Fast breath broke the pre-dawn silence,
Then with the first break of light in the East,
All thoughts, dreams and all verses united,
And went invisible, unheard, nothing any sense can feel.
Body left bed, home and town,
Day grown tall like a country maiden in beauty and warmth,
The streets like scared morning doves scattered,
And the night into past went and from an unknown dimension, haunted.
Days passed, weeks to unknown depths fell,
Months mocked, and years to fate fell pray,
In the whirlpool of time, with stubborn inevitability.
Many events defined life,
Many moments left memories bleeding,
Oh’ that poem mind haunted, elusive remained,
As life in seclusion crawled.
Through ways dark and till now none ventured,
Many days bright seen but by western horizon consumed,
Then one dusk watching the inevitable, alone in the falling mist sat,
Far, Far away a little spot wandering eyes found,
That grown as every second to a long lost past dissolved.
Oh’ you came close,
In your presence horizons glowed,
In my presence a smile upon your face showed,
And then into your eyes I looked,
Ah’ through those eyes in clarity I saw,
The poem, dreams and thoughts in union disappeared,
When mind in the wanderings through fate lost,
Now in all purity as your soul glows.
©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved 2010.
The Autumn Flower.
There are two parts to this post. Blog and Poem READ.
Never be disappointed in what not happened. Be satisfied with what happened by seeing the good of all the things unfolded in the given time. The difference between people of the 80s and the sprouting generation born in the 90s is the latter generation wants everything to happen fast, even growth girls want silicon boobs, boys wants penis enlargement pills, young mom wants neighbors husband, young dad wants neighbors wife, for some its all complicated as they want both neighboring husband and wife. The toddler crawling around looks at all this and shakes head and in mind asks…
“Why the hell did you morons became the reason for me being here?”
He will never get the answer, so he just crawls away after the ladybug that runs away not to end up with undigested cream and baby-soup in his stomach.
As for the generation sprouted out in the 70s and 80s they have heard, seen and known the manual world. In those days, as kids we used to go out and hang out together. If we go and put hands on the shoulder of another kid no one called us gay. In those days kids enjoyed making toys out of trash and sleep with a smile dreaming about what next he/she should make. It’s just that we over achieved in so little time the generation that came after that don’t need to do anything. They need to sit on a couch and play the video game and all the wrongs comes out of it, blame the past generations. Life is simple isn’t it? Nope. That’s it.
The Autumn Flower.
Bloom O flower bloom,
Into my heart bloom,
Silence all around us crawl,
And petal by petal opened,
Seeing the morning of fall,
And the falling dew she caught.
Summer and spring into history faded,
Winter took the armor of Northern wind to lash,
In between like an odd man in the pack fall came,
Filled colors, kissed many warm cheeks,
Dropped the honey in the heart of the flowers,
Brought the morning dew with moonlight filled.
Oh’ blinked my eyes not even once,
As carefully watched even the last petal unfold,
What care I gave and let the plant grow and flower,
And what wonderful beauty in front of my eyes I see.
Then in mind a little whisper I heard,
“Oh’ in the world a lot of things you see and hear,
In this world beauty in strange ways you will see,
None is yours to own for in your hands the flower will die,
And will rot and perish into stinking corpse,
Let the flower hold up her beauty for the world to see,
And their enjoyment as happiness you take in peace”.
No more arguments to my conscience I made,
As slowly away from the pretty flower I fade,
A sight I may not see in full bloom another time,
But the spirit of her beauty and the love I felt,
Forever in my soul like a star will shine and stay.
©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2010
Abandoned Desires.
Abandoned Desires.
The first birth of light Oh’ always remains unseen,
As pain of desires yesterday and night in heart left,
Left in a heart that untiringly beats.
Oh’ some pain in confusion woke,
Nightmares that haunted childhood days,
And those nightmares still spoke,
In the same screaming voice like thunder heard.
Followed by the howling of an ageless owl,
And the screeching of a sightless bat,
Then through the jungle chased,
Wild beasts with blood filled eyes,
Ah’ all lost as in the big web of the spider caught,
Oh’ no beast dared to steal her meal,
Then to the center of the web she came,
And with her hand caressed forehead with sweat filled,
Oh’ nightmare gone only love remained,
And the sprouted tears with her soft smiling lips wiped.
In the childhood days it was motherly love one unconditionally felt,
In these days abandoned desires like a ghosts cared,
For, without this mind and soul they exist not.
©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved. 2010
Happy Halloween
In a way everyday is Halloween costume day isn’t it? And it is all an act isn’t it? at home, with friends, at work… one just shows a face that fits the situation. The winners are the ones who does the masquerade wonderfully done and the true person just gets buried inside smiles, laughs and the intoxication of material life.
Finding Sadness.
It’s been a while since I really, really wrote anything worth reading. So you all who understand me know that I am trapped in material life. Well I need this to earn a living or I will be sitting in some basement, yelling and screaming at my blogtv fans. Said that, I did a blogtv show after a long time the weekend before last weekend and I understood I am still the man people with skepticism look. It will take more than a lifetime to understand me. So beware of the LonelyPoet. Stay away, as far away and show mad faces or dress like a freaking slut. Loving me is something many hate to do, but listening to me? mmm yeah there are some who love to read this madness and listen to things half of which they don’t understand. Most are just kids who love to listen to things they don’t understand.
This poem was planned last week; I thought I will write it in the weekend. Daang for some weird reason I went to McDonalds and drank milk shake. Kaboom my stomach went crazy. Couple of days I was creeping around the toilet. Now I am okay sitting at work going crazy as I know I am not the number one guy another company chose so I got to wait to see if the other guy accepts the job or not. You all know waiting is something I hate to do and most of you know, that’s what most of the one whom I love, love to make me do. Now about the poem, yeah I looked around and found very many happy faces so I took my office pad and wrote this.
Finding Sadness.
The half moon up high stood,
With a permanent grin,
Even when morning sun gained,
His glory melting mist night gathered.
People in their busy lives wandered,
Some through almost invisible devices spoke,
Some held devices that like flip-flops appeared,
And smiles all around with the morning spread.
Lovers in love found gladness,
Business deals made business men glad,
Birds chased partners in their game flew,
Children from school buses in cheer sang,
Wind with warmth new momentum gained,
Street corner singer touched deep in the tunes he sang,
As his guitar in sync along with him laughed,
As hand in hand many walked,
Just to spread the gladness they found.
Oh’ happiness all around flew,
Every creature smiled and their eyes bright like stars shined,
Even the corner stone a crayon smiley face shown,
Ah’ Mother Earth to keep this time longer, gently slowed.
The poet alone through the crowd walked,
His ways none noticed as none for him cared,
He himself lost in thoughts forgot his destiny,
Looked around and the happy moment on Earth he found.
Frowned he as again and again all around he looked,
As if someone or something he missed,
And through every street he ran every corner he searched,
Everywhere he went he was chased,
By happiness of the world in many, many ways,
Where all the sadness gone he wondered,
And to the center square street he turned,
The window on the shop in clarity shown,
The whole of him, a reflection for long he stared,
Then away with no smile on face he walked,
As he learned where all the sadness in union celebrated.
©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved 2010.
The Innocent Touch.
Life some days can be insane. This is yet another day that went wrong from all directions and fired back just wrong in all directions. Easier to say than live it. Recently I thought what do I want? The answer is not simple, I don’t need money, I don’t need any worldly pleasures. That’s just the simple way to put things forward. It gets very complicated from there. Maybe I am a material illusion of a spiritual truth none can ever comprehend.
I don’t want to confuse you folks. Here is a poem. I don’t know why I wrote it though hehehe.
The Innocent Touch.
Swaying up and down the swing lived,
Through many childhood in years passed,
Up onto unseen air the swing pushed,
Listening to the giggles of happiness of childhood.
The flying dust, the butterflies, the small surprised sparrow,
Oh’ all changed in the very many years galloped,
New faces, new voices, new costumes all came and gone,
But the fun on the swing, Oh’ still remained in sway up and down.
Good times came, good times gone, all stirred up all around,
Oh’ about good and bad, what a little child should know,
So the swing went up and down to the giggles listening,
Shine or rain the swing can sway up and down.
Times have passed many good and bad days came and gone,
Children left the swing for the younger ones,
Many times the moon passed the earth,
Many, many times the sun and earth at each other looked,
Minds from dreams to dreamless went,
Every event with drama filled,
To take a deep breath none got time to spare,
In truth less souls illusions filled.
Monuments of millenniums stood bare naked,
The little child cared not for any monuments at all,
She went to the swing and climbed and swayed,
Up and down and the rusty cranks of chains in her giggles, drowned.
Then not from far an onlooker looked and with a smile left,
As deep in his soul he now knows,
All that stay stale must be moved with an innocent touch,
Then all that went around will come around.
No thoughts of worldly life touched him at all,
Life may have grounded every means of him,
No traditions, faith, color or class came to kill and die,
Only the sway of an old rusty swing in his mind filled.
His pace in steadiness with the wind quickened,
As in his soul giggles he once left at the swing, again filled,
Another child born again at the swing,
Ah’ there will always be a child to make the swing go up and down.
©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2010.
The Year Of The One Time Flower.
****Announcement****
In two years I wrote three books one almost ready to be published. My announcement is yesterday I started writing a new set of poems that collection is called “The Year Of The One Time Flower”. Sorry folks I cannot put any of the poems here as I have an agreement with someone willing to make it an e-book I will not post any of those poems here or in my blog sites. 21 Poems about some things happened in real. All written metaphorically.
Have a great weekend everyone.
Image Of A Lost Lover.
As most of you all know I am a blogger. I write blogs, I read blogs and even do live video blog shows. For the last couple of months I did not do much of blogging and I sincerely apologize to you all for that. I must confess I wrote a lot of poems here suggestive of my feelings for one person. In every poem of mine there is at least one word that tells about my love for her. Now I must confess I am not reaching anywhere with all this. I am getting older, no matter who says what the truth is that. Now when facing a dead end in every corner, this is a time I need support, unfortunately I just don’t have it. I will be writing and I will be reading and once Ramadhan fasting days are over I will be starting my live video blog shows too. Its just that I failed in every possible way to make me feel better. There I just told the truth.
Image Of A Lost Lover.
The river flown like the song you sang,
The song composed in the rhythm of my heart,
Through valleys and meadows the river ran,
And through the heart of the plains river sang,
The song that told tales of every moment of your life.
Through the river I swam,
Listening to the giggles of the blasting bubbles,
And heard how days passed when in happiness you thrived,
And also heard how days and nights you pushed,
When life at you fired, arrows filled with sadness.
Through the plains and meadows and valleys I ran,
To see the ones heart that known the rhythm of my heart,
To hear in real the whispering voice through mists pass,
To look in those eyes where sadness comes and turns,
Into happy feelings the world around in smiles welcome.
The leaves of trees grew, greened and fell in applause,
The flowers smiled and in prayers shut their eyes,
The mists filled all around and all over touched,
All made me feel the love of her in the depth of my soul,
But only feelings I felt, as far, far away unseen she stayed.
The meadows, valleys, rivers and lakes I never left,
As filled in all is the glory of your love,
In all material way unknown to you I will remain,
As deep in my soul of mine forever that unseen image will remain,
And deep in your soul forever the love of yours for me will remain.
©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2010.
The Tired Tempest
This is the month of fasting. This year the heat wave is really keeping me underground. Literally, most part of daytime I spend in the basement where it is about 10 to 20 degrees cooler. I normally don’t do much of writing during the month of fasting. Sometimes a phrase or even a word can trigger a writing spree. Well there is no spree this time.
Hope all are doing good these days. Hold on to your jobs the times ahead can sway you worse than a roller-coaster. The facebookers will get this poem probably tomorrow day time. Stay in shade folks, don’t try to be too adventurous and get out in the sun and burn your pretty skin. Let it cool down.
The Tired Tempest
The silence of the summer noon broke,
As from the west, east, south and north came,
Wind dancing all around horizons and howling and roaring,
The sky tall trees he bend, the grounded dust he picked and showered,
Ah’ what naughtiness mother nature’s child the world taught.
Went up high and at each other the dark clouds he pushed,
Those sleepy clouds unknowing at each other punched,
Ah’ thunders broke out and lightning to the ground fell,
Hail from the clouds he picked and juggled, some to gravity fell prey,
In the end mother nature in anger roared as all in chaos scattered.
All around the horizon again he ran crying,
Ah’ his tears through clouds fell and the dusts settled,
Rivers and lakes swelled and happily flowed,
Crickets and birds sang songs in counter point,
Mother failed to catch her naughty child and in fear away he went.
Many years, many places, Ah’ many faces he saw,
Mother still worries as his face for long she haven’t seen,
The true face Oh’ not many seen as for many a nuisance he became,
Deep inside he is just trying to make all smile and laugh.
Misunderstood Oh’ all, away their faces turned.
Then there are those who in laughs followed,
In the dust he spread they bathed,
And the hail and rain they loved to see and hear,
And for them as much as he can, his wings he spread,
But a hidden smile Oh’ makes him sad.
Horizons his playground he made,
Deep oceans made him cool,
Wild forests along with him danced,
Flocks of birds along with him sang,
Still a smile away from him smiled, brought him down tired.
©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2010.