Home Of The LonelyPoet

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.

I felt angry at some people at work. They don’t care what is going on.
I am the only guy who finished the work properly. Those guys are still
sitting there burning their asses to get somewhere. I am at home
writing poetry. I reached office late and left early. Today I got a
call saying that there are people trying to reach me and couldn’t reach
me. Hellooo… anyone heard about a mobile phone…. Damn idiots. It is all
lies… It will take 10 years for those Jack Asses to become a programmer
like me. I want to leave this field of work soon. It will only
frustrate me again and again. The problem is other than Mainframe
Programming the only thing I know to do is writing poetry. It won’t pay
a penny hehehe.
 
I may be angry, saying the eff word again and again like the energizer
bunny goes on and on and on and on….. but the opposite is what I think
came out when I took the pen. Read it.

Pilgrim Of Truth, This is the kinda place I am talking about in this poem.

Nostalgia.

Rice fields and waterways crossed paths,
In those days when upon small feet I walked,
With the weaver bird on trees, dancing,
With the Parrot that lost his mate, crying,
The wobbling bicycle rides around town,
And the hot summer fishing trips,
Oh’ memories, down they drown me,
Into the depths of nostalgia,
From where every time up I swam,
But the realities that I came to,
Back into those memories thrown me.
Melancholic and pathetic many times,
My waiting to hear your words of love.

This day will live in the infamy of my stupidity, so will be yesterday
hehehe. Well that’s what I said at noon. We all, the group at work went
out for lunch, a very good one where we all were playing with paper
toys. Fun to watch as a bunch of middle aged people fighting for paper
toys. Then a lot of talks, and great food, I’ve had salmon and French
fries, with sprite. Wow, I want to go to that place tomorrow too.

The first statement I made was not said for making everyone laugh. The
one to whom it is meant will understand and I hope will forgive.

Poem, poem haha, this is a short one. This again was written out right
after I came back from a break at work. I saw no reason not to write. I
found no particular reason for writing this one too. It just came into
my mind and I wrote it. Then after about three hours I read it and said
“Not that bad, GGGMHMMM”. So here it is for you all…. Kuchukoo
(kuchukoo means I am happy. Just a sound I make when I am happy)…

The Left Out Essence.


Tragic tales and unreadable verses, into these days filled,
Where around a drop of honey, in spiral, life loomed,
The point of time, around it all moved,
Spiraled itself within the impossible realities dreamed,
And within that spiraling life, in secret hides,
All the good I did, by the bad outdone,
But none matters as life just can’t take,
That drop of honey, the left out essence,
The love of mine to you.

Starting right after Thanks giving, 20 poems most of them posted every
day. Yesterday I took a breather. Now I am back with more. Yay. There
are people here who proclaimed when I accidentally deleted a comment
that my site will be filled with comments and don’t be sorry. Haven’t
seen a sign of a comment in some days now and whatever comment I got
was reply for my comments. GRRRHHHMMM. So much from the favorites. But
know this, Once a darling, always a darling. That’s my personal policy.

  This is a poem written from an idea I’ve been playing in my mind
for some days now. The idea is named as “The Story Teller’s Wish” that
idea is different than this one and I will write it in the coming days.
It will be a long poem hehehe. Today at work as I have accomplished the
deadline I was happy and sitting doing nothing. Then this derivative
came up in my mind. It is mixture of a lot of things, things I’ve heard
and I myself made up. Enjoy the poem.  And welcome chansondenuit
to my site. She gets the honor of becoming first in a billion to
comment on my site. The first person from the country of India, my
motherland, the one place I may end up in, the one place I don’t wanted
to be in. MagsterG holds the honor of the first ever to comment on my
site and Kekeway_Arinya_Mekae, holds the honor of being my Mo Cushle.

The Lady Of The Woods.

Childhood days of him were with stories filled,
Good ones, bad ones, wild ones and the ones that scared,
One among the story was about the Lady of the woods,
A fairy who slept deep in some woods unknown.

Childhood days passed by so the abundance of youth,
Stories all changed from folklore to true ones,
Happily everafter never did happen,
When failure out numbered handful of success,
He sat down and wrote down his story in verse,
To sing it to the Lady of woods one day,
And wandered through the depths and dark,
But seen no sign of the Lady of the woods.

Trembled in cold, wet in the rain and sweat in the heat,
Hid under creeks from wild hunting teeth and claws,
Where mosquitoes and leeches sucked his blood,
Days and nights he spent in his search,
To sing his verse to the Lady of the woods.

He became friends with the flowers of the wild,
Rabbits and rats, snakes and badgers don’t feared him at all,
As he became part of the upland woods,
Still he kept the song in his heart to sing one day,
Just for the ears of the Lady of the woods.

Age through years caught up with him,
Hair white as snow covered his entire head,
He slept little once in a while,
Most of the time he spent whistling,
Along the banks of a freezing stream.

One night from his sleep woke up he,
When the half moon shot the best light he could,
In the light he saw a flower just bloomed,
And to that flower his song he sung,
And wrote this upon a rock nearby,
“I lie here now knowing,
The trees and creatures of all kind,
The heat and cold all were,
Part of the Lady of the woods in all her beauty,
And forever I will be part of her and beyond”.

Then he lay down with his head upon the rock,
And took his eternal sleep in peace.

I slept half part of the day. Then I woke up hungry to eat an Elephant
in full. But settled with lamb steak. I don’t know who but I see a
dream where two eyes that looks like stars guiding me out of dark right
before I wake up. I mentioned this yesterday. It is a girls eyes. Well
I don’t feel afraid when I wake up. I feel good hehehe. That reflected
well in me when I was trying to finish this poem.  I am back
writing ‘Tess Of The D’Urbervilles’. I feel terrible leaving it aside
but I’ve had no choice with deadlines and me and my company getting
conned and of course my loser talks.
 Here is the latest loser talk: Love gave everyone a flower
bouquet. What love gave me was a trashcan. So my penname may change
from LonelyPoet to “Trashcan”.

Enjoy the poem.

A Free Man.

A day I will never forget is a day,
I have no memory about,
The day I was born.

Even before mind kept tabs about,
Faces seen, smiles given, cries,
Innocence built deep inside,
Like the sprout of flowers in spring, sprouting.
A golden thread from the flower petals woven,
Bound heart year after year, season after season,
One by one the bounds increased.

Innocence grew to passions, passion to love of youth,
Driven by power of eagerness and lust,
Many forgotten smiles and faces,
Tearful eyes and nightmarish nights,
The bounds kept on growing,
As life fallen and through the never ending tunnels moved,
Where ever lasting silence and darkness makes love,
Where every hope, wish, dream failed,
And in failure again and again swam,
Loveless, passionless and delusional.

Senses have become parasites feeding,
On the delusional subconscious leaving,
Hopeless images in mind imprinted.
Still threads of love, passion, obsession, pain,
Hunger and lust bound heart tight.
The light of love I searched was seen,
But like mirages on a dry cold desert faded,
Eyes that promised everything,
Ears that heard nothing,
Lips that bore the poison of lust,
From the tunnel they all went away,
After the last bit of pleasure bound tight,
To a heart bound tight and squeezed.

There was calm, there was that little wind,
With every hope, eyes and mind opened,
Every bit of hard luck and pain wiped away,
As far away two bright little stars seen,
Guiding through darkness into a new born day,
But the bounds on my heart dried squeezing,
Every essence out of soul to survive,
I can no longer see those stars in the bright new day,
The fear of darkness, pain and failure again grabbed,
As I screamed aloud
“I am not going into that path again,
With a heart rotting in the bounds,
Of love grown out of innocence,
Passion, obsession and lust immorally conceived”.

The spirit of an aging man never dies,
The threads one by one I unbound,
Those threads bound hard tight,
By my own miserable mourning,
Every vain in the body started to feel,
The heat of an exploding star,
Blood like the lava from the depths of a volcano boiled,
But every bit I unbound free I became,
From a material life into spiritual realities,
Where there are no obligations,
No more passions as heart in freedom danced,
But before the last bounds of thread undone,
I looked up towards those little stars,
Though brightness around blinded me,
I still thanked those darling lucky stars,
May be it is to ever lasting loneliness,
May be it is to another cycle of billions of variables,
That makes up the phenomenon called future,
But in peace I walked away, as a freeman.