These are dull
days; most of the people are waiting for weekend. I am also waiting to
shut myself up somewhere. The busy days at work are almost over. The
project I am working on will start to wind down starting next month.
Stability is a myth in my life. But in another way I enjoy uncertainty.

 The
following is a poem I wrote in 1999 and was posted in LonelyPoet.Com.
Even at that time I know it is not a complete poem as a part which I
said and wrote by my ex-girlfriend in a pad was missing.  Yesterday when I was unpacking one of my old boxes I found that pad.  I
was thrilled to find those lines I spoke and later written by my then
girlfriend, Jessica. I modified the original poem and added those
lines.

Thanks
everyone who supports me through those wonderful comments. Before
ending I have to do this. My hearty condolences to the family of Capt.
Brad D. Squires who died in a road side bomb attack in
Iraq. I never knew him personally but through the tearful words of Kelly Miller now I know he is the man of the moment.

Here is the poem.

Real Love.

From the moment I understood the first words of care,
From that great loving mother of mine,
I thrust my faith on knowledge,
So lucky I was, getting it all, from all,
The true stories, the fictions and the life around.
I read, I wrote and I thought I felt,
Love from many, around me, some far away,
All left me without glimpsing the loving heart,
The ever loving mother still prays for me.

Pen never stopped scribbling,
When life extended to the other side of world,
I extended that life into verse,
But none of my verse shown light,
To the lover in me, who left me in dark,
But the looks and words of that strange girl,
Shown light to the lover in me, back to me.

 Into her ear I whispered my verse
“There is light everywhere filling the day,
Though not so bright still showing the night,
Day will fade into the dark of the night,
And night into the brightness of the day,
But the light you filled in my heart,
Will brighten my soul night and day,
And will show the path for our love to eternity.”

From her sleep my voice woke her,
And she beat my verse with these lines.
”Read all your poems again and again,
Loved them all, but found them as reflections of you,
I love the real poem god had written,
The poem I love most, which is you.”

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM.

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The following is a
poem I wrote in January. I did posted this poem in couple of poetry
forums that was before I made my site into a forum format using
Invision Power Board software. The responses I got there were very
encouraging. As this poem was written about a real person I really kept
it away and tried to delete it from most of the places. I really don’t
know why? But now I think you all may like it.

 This was written about someone whom I’ve seen going in the wrong path.

 Jennifer.

With every stroke of pen panning over the white sheet,
I started the construction of your image in my verse,
You delighted the passion of a generation,
Little the world know about the passion in your heart,
They all crumbled into lust,
Some only wished to touch your hand;
Some went away with just a kiss.

Your beauty is like a never ending summer evening,
I always looked from far,
Love never passed through my heart,
None of the lusty passions either,
But observed the human who tirelessly made,
Everyone happy who never cared about the happiness,
Of a heart that enjoyed the happiness it poured.

Now walking away from the graveyard,
Where none came to your funeral but me,
And the near frozen drops of rain,
Where no priest uttered you name in full,
No tombstone, no epitaph,
The look in the face of the priest told,
The sins  your life adorned.

In my walk nothing I remembered,
No questions in my mind,
But a feeling as a voice
echoed,
In the pouring rain that danced in the joy,
Of your life filled with the joy of giving,
And sang about my admiration,
About a girl and then a woman named Jennifer.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM.

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I am hitting blanks here. Iam not blocked, I wrote things but I myself didn’t liked them or I just did notfinished them. Like many of you said I need some “me” time. And the bully timeruns away after goring me from back. I am not going anywhere during the July 4thlong weekend. Probably that will be the time I will date myself (LOL).

Here is something I wrote along time back to put in my lonelypoet.org website. Some of you who visitedthat site might’ve read this already. This is my view and way of writing.

Enjoy.

 Writing Free Verse.

 I write my expressions infree verse. That is the best way I can describe my writing. As it was a journeyalone, most of what I learned was self taught, with guidance from books andmany times the works of other writers. I won’t advice anyone to take that pathas I know very well how gruesome that path was for me and how much of struggleI needed to go through. It is always nice to find the nearest poetry group andattend their weekly or monthly poetry workshops. The rewards are far betterthan thinking about a line, a phrase or just an image that you’ve got andtrying to elaborate on that all by yourself. Most of the time it helps to sharethe idea with someone thinking in the same way or someone engaged in doing whatyou are doing.

Now what is free verse? Well if anyone can define it in a paragraph or a bookthen it will lose the “free” part of it. That raises another question. Can itbe called poetry if someone writes with no specific rhythm or rhyme? In myopinion, first of all, an understanding of what is poetry, what kind of toolsare used to compose poetry is very important before starting to attempt toexpress what you see, hear and feel as poetry. In my case all my attempts towrite better led me to be a better reader than I was when I started to read.Poets read poem differently than non-poets. It is true as most of the poets gothrough the poem and first take out the essence of the poem and then try tograsp the structure, rhythm, and then possibly if it is there the actual rhymepattern of the poem. These tools are not often used in free verse. But even infree verse there is rhythm, and to understand the rhythm it is always nice totry to write a parody of the poem of interest. I always try that even though Ilaughed at myself after reading those parodies, it helps to understand thetools the poet used to express what the poet actually felt in the form ofverse.

In my view poetry or the stuff needed to write poetry exists in almost everywhere, it is better to go to an old book shop and buy some poetry anthologies.Anthologies are always better as it will be having poems written by differentwriters and the person who compiled the anthology might have compiled itaccording to subject. If you look at the different subjects you can find thatpoems are written in subject you might not have even imagined. Reading a poemfrom each subject will sets of hundreds of triggers in your brain to write somelike the poems you just read.

Now coming to the preparation, I am not going to tell what you should do. Manypeople have a lot of bad habits, like buying new writing pads, pens, cleaningup the whole place before you sit, keeping some food, coffee, or alcoholaround. I think these are all distractions, but if you are comfortable withsomething just go ahead and get it around. I just don’t do anything, I sit andtake anything I can write and start writing, as I consider that is the mostimportant part of the whole process.

Never shy before others if you feel like writing something, because you maylose the idea in your forgetful mind if you procrastinate. For doing that firstof all most importantly you need accept one fact, that is, you can write.Anyone can write, but everyone doesn’t accept that. Most of the time people mayeven laugh at what you are doing, but it is you who wanted to write and theyare all out there to drag you down from the wall you are climbing. After a fewencounters with those shut out minds you will see a change in their attitude.Even the garbage you write will be hailed as “good work” by those who laughedat you first.

I am not going to quote bits of hundreds of poems here for you. Browse aroundthere are hundreds of poetry sites from published poets to new aspiring ones.Just browse and find out the kind of poem you like. The style, rhythm,structure, rhyme and anything or everything you wanted to add are all as Isaid, additions. The main thing you should be concerned about is the subjectyou are writing and the images you are using in that subject. It is importantto stay within the subject and write with clarity. What I told is veryimportant as real poets are a minority in this world and most of the time youwork is going to be read by people who just want to grab it all in a singlereading. Abstraction is good, but if you leave the reader confused at the endof the poem, that reader is not going to read another work of yours. So keepthese two things in mind when you start to write.

In my way and view I will just write whatever that comes in my mind. Contraryto what I said, to stay in the subject I ask you to write it as much aspossible. If it is a new person you just met you are writing about, then writeabout the appearance, the color of the skin, hair, eyes, the smell of theperfume or cologne, the type and color of the dress, shoes and every singlemove you can remember that person made. This is very important as when youelaborate you can find those small observations helping you to get a biggerimage. It is in your second draft where you eliminate all the unnecessarythings you wrote in the first draft. What I do after that may interest you, Iwill just leave the poem to either rot there in my pad or ripe into something Ican love everlastingly. This is just my way, it helped me a lot in finding outif I did the right thing by writing about something. I will take what I wrotemay be a week later and read it aloud, and try to get the same feeling andpassion when I first wrote the poem. If it does nothing I will just leave it ina folder. You may end up with hundreds of folders before you take one and holdit to your chest patting your own cheek about the wonderful piece of work youdid.

There are no hurries in doing what you wanted to do as poems come from theminds of every age.

Hi All,
   These are the few pictures taken during my Delhi trip. Idid not had a good camera so I used an autofocus camera of my friend.So the pictures are not of good quality.
If you have any questions about the places please feel free to ask.

Kuthub Minar. Built In The Early 12th Century By Kuthubuddin Aibak.This was the tallest monument in India until Taj Mahal was built.

Me on the right with Dr.Ranjit a friend of my brother in Delhi at the bottom of Kuthub Minar.

This is me around the ruins of a mosque near Kuthub Minar.

The Shrine of Sufi saint Kwajah Moinuddin Chisti the founder of theChisti sufi order. I visited this place after a long drive of about 8hours. Driving in India is an art, I did not drove I rented a car witha driver.

From left Geeripai another of my brother’s friend Kmal Pasha Chisti oneof the caretaker at the Chisti shrine and me in from of sweet riceprepared at the mosque.

Ranjit, Kamal Pasha Chisti and me

I bought flowers to be laid on top of the grave of Kwajah Moinuddin Chisti and was waiting for the caretaker.

The we visted the Bahai Lotus temple in Delhi. Dr.Ranjit wanted to visitthis place as he was a bit interested in the Bahai religion. This is aplace worth visiting just for seeing the beautiful temple.

This is a tomb structure around the tomb of Humayun the Mugal emperorand father of Akbar one of the greatest emperors who ruled India.

I am in front of the garden at the Humayun’s Tomb it was too hot and I could bearly stand at this point because of the heat.

Me right in front of the Grave site of Humayun. Humayun’s tomb was theprettiest structure built before Shajahan built Taj Mahal.

I took a breather on the steps to the entrance of Humayun’s tomb.

Its me before India Gate a monument built in memory of all the Indian soldiers died in the second world war.

This is me standing right before the flames at the India gate. By thistime my face started to feel the burns of the heat and my stomach startedto feel the pain of dehydration. I immediatly went back to the hoteland stayed inside the air conditioned room the rest of the time I needed to spent in Delhi. Ifelt sad as the next day I couldn’t go to Agra to see Taj Mahal.Probably I will go to see Taj the next time I visit India.

I am crazy doing things at work and personally. Things I like and dislike. To put it in another way I am too busy doing useless things. Work is tightening its grip around my neck as I was away for more than two weeks. There are a lot of things to do; my analysis output goes as the input for the developers. I can’t make them wait.


Are these excuses for my inner blocks?


Or just the murmur of busy and lazy poet? mmm I don’t know. But still here is what I wrote in India. I did not have a lot of time to change it and make it likeable for at least myself.


I will revise it. But I think you all still will enjoy it.


The little hands of mine that learned to scribble,
Words that paints images,
Images that spoke about my life
And the life that carried me this far.

There are a million more I’ve had in my heart,
Some just popped out through my words,
Filling minds of loved ones,
And those who knows me through my words.

Where are all the others gone?
When I hold this empty sheet in front,
And wonder about the gone by days,
And wonder about the day walking by.

Is past a lucky monster that escaped my attention?
I still feel it all imprisoned in my soul,
I feel the warm breeze once more piercing,
The unclosed eyes of mine in amazement.

Oh, I remember where those images are,
The ones that never filled in the soul of mine,
They were all buried with the tears of mine,
Tears I shed with the loses of my loving heart.

In this bay I float away the images remaining,
For life to start mixing new colors,
In the far away new found land
Where my soul may rest in love.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. This poem was written in Cochin, Kerala, India. On an evening looking at the marine drive from my mother’s apartment on May 28th 2005

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A quick update for my Xanga family.
I am back in Virginia. There is a lot of things to do at work and athome. I am kinda unpacking things. Jetlag is getting on to me and I canfeel my eyes burining now.
I started working on two poems and probably by the end of this week I will post it here.
Thanks all. I owe you all a lot. I will get to your sites in the next couple of days.
Bye for now.

Hi All,

I am in Kerala, a state at the south western tip of India. I wasborn and brought up here. So a lot of places to go and people to meet in theshort time I have. Here the temperature is far better only in the lower 90s andoccasional rain. The South western monsoon is on its way it may miss me asweather men here are predicting a heavy rainfall season but a delayed one.Other than that nothing much going on, I’ve seen my sick cousin who is farbetter now, my sick nephew who had undergone a surgery now almost completely recovered. Then just enjoying the short break. Ialready miss many things, unfortunately I just cannot single anything out. WhatI can say is life is short and the world is small and I am just getting old.Why I said I am getting old is, I got really sick in Delhibecause of the heat and I couldn’t go to Agrato see Taj. May be another time. But I went to some other places close to thecentral part of Delhi.I will post some pictures which I took in Delhi.I just couldn’t get hold of a scanner. If I couldn’t find a scanner I will postit once I reach USA.

This is where I started writing poetry. So expect some poetry inthe coming days. 

I know another thing now.

I love you all my xanga family more than I ever imagined..

Hi All,

 My apologies for not posting for somedays. I am in New Delhi now. I reached here on 21st evening and here comes trouble my suite case went missing during travel. Alitalia today called me and told they found the bag in Milan, Italy. Then I went for a long drive here around Delhi to a place called Ajmeer. I will give you the details about that trip after I reach America. So here is the good news. The embassy approved my application for visa so I will be back in US on June 7th evening. I don’t know how will I thank you all who wished me luck all my prayers and your prayers are answered. Thanks everyone. It is very hot here. About 117 F even at 8:30PM in Delhi. I will get back to you all soon.

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

LonelyPoet

Hi Everyone,


I am right now sitting in the Airport in Milan, Italy. I am on my way to New Delhi, India for my Visa stamping. I thought posting something before I leave Virginia. But a lot of things went wrong on the day of departure. But those things are all history now. I am here in Milan, looking at some pretty looking Italian women, listening to my favorite music and having a good cup of tea with great tasting cheese cake.


Many of you might have wondered what in the world happened to me as I always make sure that I visit most of your sites no matter what. Things became that busy there. I will get to each site of yours as time permits during this trip. Keep coming back here, I will be posting often even though I am in a long trip. Now gotta go as the WiFi hour I bought is almost over.


Hopes and Hopes On Hopes.
Looking back at the younger years,
Joy fills my eyes with tears,
The caressing words of the elders,
The unbelievable imaginations of the childhood,
Thrill of adventure in the teens,
The loving words of my best friend.
So happy I was and made others happy,
Seems all lost far beyond my grab,
None else to blame than myself,
When stunned before realties of life,
Where the crooked prevails and laughs all the way home,
Can’t go back to the fantasy world, though I wish I could,
But hopes and hopes on hopes,
Drags a foot of mine ahead.


©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. This poem was originally written in 1995 in India. Later was released in LonelyPoet.Com in the fall of 1998.



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It is a tedious thing to pack everything up with a lot of uncertainity in mind. That is what I am doing now. I know my life is not as simple as many thinks and it calms down a bit that gives a fear in my mind. Then my life puts me into a drum and rolls me down hill. It then takes a while for me to get back to where I was and beyond then the fearful calm comes again and the whole cycle repeats. Now a days I enjoy the whole process except the calm, silence and darkness which I hate.
I wrote some lines today morning. Breaking my own tradition of waiting a while before posting it here. I am posting the short poem here. I hope from this you will understand how I feel.

Once again thanks a million for all the great supporting words and prayers. I am no stranger to you all anymore. For all your words and prayers, I pray to God to give me the strength and will to give you all the best I can when needed.

Faking Thoughts.

Noon time passing me by luring me to wonder,
Oh! I am in the middle of the day!
I remember the dawn like a second ago,
Time never pass by fast,
It’s the thoughts that fakes the illusion,
I still may think the same in the evening,
Talking about the thoughts that fakes,
But when thoughts pass through time,
Of which we know nothing about the beginning,
Of which we know nothing about the end,
I think everything is nothing,
But the pleasures of the faking thoughts.

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