Home Of The LonelyPoet

A weekend started so weird and boring and ended with a blast. I cameback to my room at 4:00AM in the morning. When I lied down to sleep Iknow my mind said “Haha that was good” The details are too complicatedand got good, bad and dirty part of a human life.

There are a lot of people pissed off because I blocked them out. Thefunny fact is the block was only for 10 days and I unblocked all ofthem. Those who counter blocked me are the ones who liked my writings alot. To them, I like you all in the same way you liked me. I don’tchange as I am way past the age of changing. Then there are others whocome in here not knowing what this is all about. Oh’ boy, they will notsleep for at least one night after the confusion they read.  Don’tworry this is just a mid age crisis, it will go away in time. Thenthere is one person who leaves a footprint in here just for me to know,that person was here and read my post. That is one footprint which willremain in my heart. It is with that thought I woke up on this mildwintry Monday morning.

 Well… Monday morning was good. I woke up late andas usual I reached work late. I thought I am not going to writeanything new for couple of days as I am working on finishing some oldstuff. Then I saw this Black And White picture of someone. I neverthought I may write a poem like this about her. Still, I can’t stopbeing a poet and the poet found no reason not to write what felt.

ATouch Forever.

Sound, the notes and pitches that fills,
The material being and the spirits,
And in enchantment blesses every moment of life.

Smell, the feeling that words cannot describe,
No other sense can in the depths of soul touch,
Like the smell of her flowery skin.

Taste, sweet or sour or in the mix of spices,
No other feeling can kill the hunger,
But taste can’t kill the hunger of soul.

Touch, Oh’ every touch wakes up a billion thoughts,
And dances through mind and soul,
And sprout dreams when the conscious mind sleeps.

Sight, it is a blessing that always wonders,
Where all the sense in sync merges,
As even dreams can only be seen.

When sight is the only sense that can be used,
From the depths of mind all senses in perfection simulates,
The material being of a perfect beauty,
That left a touch in soul, that forever will remain.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM

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Thanks and have a wonderful weekend.

LonelyPoet.

Environmentalists and Politicians grind their teeth,
When warmth caress their cheeks in a winter morn,
Blessed many feel when sun lashes through the white clouds,
Bird-less and leafless, trees in confusion stands.

The roads are not empty but faces are with gloom filled,
The wrong around the world is not in weather alone,
But in perceptions, opinions and principles of uncaring minds,
Oh’ some even hold a gun in their hand for peace of mind.

Thanksgiving meals have digested,
Holidays knocking at the door with jingle bells,
How many even care to kiss each other?
When love must be packed in colorful packages.

The year when preparing to say goodbye,
At the pathetic panic of the people look,
Shopping what they need and mostly what they don’t need,
And with a cheerful mind walk back home.

This world has changed and how many knows,
That the world doesn’t need any of you,
And to this beautiful world once more unkind we look,
And most in one voice say “Life sucks”.

Still this globe carries all with care,
Even when lava boils deep inside,
And when everyone celebrate a birthday,
Without singing any birthday song
For the one born on Christmas day.

Oh’ the world has changed, the world has changed,
Where plants and animals by extinction consumed,
And humans consumed by their minds evolution,
From species of intelligence to species of degeneration.

When wars and jihads are fought with none winning,
When corruption and manipulation drowns the truth down,
Minds not evolved still as precious stands,
And deep in each other sees the soul of each other,
And walks hand in hand unknown to most others,
But known to the spirit of the world as the reason,
For the inspiration of Sun to rise in the east and set in the west.

I don’t know for how many people this may make any sense at all. It is a tough riddle.

Hopes so inappropriate once in mind lingered,
Oh’ they came when making wine from sweet grapes,
Though half way the inappropriate hopes were left out,
The barrels were kept away but never forgotten,
Now after the Earth hand gone around the sun,
The barrels are opened and wine will be served.

I am preparing a collection of poems called “Romantic Feelings” which will be a Amazon Shorts These poems were written in LonelyPoet.Org. None came there to read it. Now If Amazon allows me to publish them then you will see them. Otherwise somewhere in the dark parts of my hard drive it will sit there for ever.

Now what happened to this site. Those who commented and got accepted as friends are the real friends. When I call someone a friend that friend should stand by me. Otherwise there is no point in calling someone a friend. I told all of you that I expect comments on my works be it negative or positive it doesn’t matter, I want to know what my readers thinks. I opened up LonelyPoet.Com for comments where it is much more easier to find and comment on poems. One don’t even need to be a member of that site. Some people came in there initiallly then they also disappeared. From footprints I can see people visiting my xanga site but not LonelyPoet.Com. Still if you comment in LonelyPoet.Com I will comment in your site.

There are changes, the collection of poems called “Yesterdays” which I originally planned to write 365 poems will be reduced to 100 poems. I have already posted 54 of those poems in here as well as LonelyPoet.Com. Another collection which I thought of writing called “Characters” the whole project was abandoned. I will post here as well as in LonelyPoet.Com other poems.

Mo Cuishle,
      Don’t feel sorry about anything. I never
felt like you thrown me into dark or anything like that. My complaints
were you did not comment on my poems.  hehehe… ‘as always’ I
know you read my works. Like it or not… mmm… it is a mystery. Well
most of the time I like mystery. When it comes to like it or leave it,
I will say, love it.
 Still no word from both of my missing friends. mmm.

  You have a wonderful week.

Riaz Ahammed.