Tess Of The D’Urbervilles–Phase The Sixth-Part2

Hello My friends, my xanga family and my real relatives.. I am not going to go through a huge introduction here. This is the second part of the Phase Six of Tess Of The D’Urbervilles. This phase was divided into two parts because of the length and details in this phase. I released the last part sometime in March 2008. I thought I will stop it there because of personal reasons. I finished this part and releasing it now as I thought it is necessary to end an era. This is the unedited version of this part which means I have a lot of editing to do before the final versions of all poems are done. As you may have read before I started writing these poems four and a half years ago and it is still not over yet. There will be two more large poems to come when I go through the last phase called “The Fulfillment”. I hope you all are patient to know it was worth taking this effort when I end these poems.

I love you all.

At the Vicarage the letter first reached,
Where Angel’s parents duly received,
The essence of the feelings of Tess.
From where it found its way,
To where Angel Clare lived,
As his parents Angel kept informed,
About his whereabouts in the foreign lands.

Angel’s parents knew and spoke,
That the letter may hasten Angel’s return,
As from the envelope they knew,
The letter was from Angel’s wife, estranged.
In pity and confusion of parents they spoke
About their son’s marriage, ill fated,
Though in the spoken words bitterness filled ,
Deep inside they are parents who only loved,
And only for the good of their son, wished.

The eyes and mind for which Tess’s letter went,
In the meanwhile were far, far away
In the depths of American south moving towards coast.
Upon the wild strange land Angel Clare suffered,
Illness of his body, depression of his mind,
In his own plight to find land,
For farming in the Brazilian wilderness found,
Mothers from English farms with infants trudge,
And would die of fever who were buried,
By those mothers with bare hands on loose earth,
Shed a tear and trudge on.

During his plight Angel mentally aged,
A dozen years in the months he spent,
In thoughts about the values in life,
Was less its beauty than its pathos,
Discrediting the appeasements of morality,
Questioning who was the moral man,
And more pertinently who was the moral woman,
And learned in the answers found,
The character of human lay,
Not only in achievements,
But also in intentions and impulses,
Not only in among things done,
But among things willed.

Through in his mind the memory of Tess passed,
In the exact time of her hardship at Flintcomb-Ash,
Thoughts of her silence came to his mind,
And in every way misinterpreted,
Oh’ even when in flesh and blood when she stood,
In front of him he only misunderstood,
For all that he asked her to do and not to do,
All thoughts to his mind brought,
The understanding that he could never reject,
But still the darkest part of manly pride,
Kept him from accepting her in all her purity.

Then in the vastness and wilderness of Brazil,
A country man, a stranger, he found,
Who saw more life and countries than Angel,
Who kept the same mental depression as Angel,
Far from home, alone in the middle of places unknown,
He became a man in Angle’s confidence,
After hearing what Angle told about Tess,
The stranger told what Tess had been through,
Was of no importance beside what she would be,
And told the wrong Angel did in leaving her.

Angel alone in the middle of nowhere was left
As a fateful thunderstorm brought,
Fever and death to his stranger friend,
His cursory remarks about the way Angel left,
His wife and in the far away lands wander,
Into his mind regrets and remorse brought
The words of Izz Huett again echoed,
That Tess would lay down her life for him,
And she herself could do no more.
Then gone through the cynical soliloquy,
That eventually changed Angel from,
A critic of Tess to the advocate of her,
In front of his depressed and confused conscience.

The reasoning of every husband for his wife,
The harshness of every lover to his love,
All merged in the mind of Angel Clare,
Then filled in that mind tenderness,
As flashes of their good times passed,
And thoughts about her fanciful family trait,
Alone in the Brazilian wilderness,
All those thoughts and daydreams prepared,
To find Tess’s devoted outpouring.

In the meanwhile Tess’s expectations about,
Angel’s return were great and small,
At the thought of the reasons of her parting,
With Angel never changed and will never change.
Still she prepared herself with ways,
She could do to please him best,
When at last from far away land he arrives.
She asked Izz’s boyfriend who knew Angel played,
Song in his harp to induce cows to let their milk.
The song “The break o’ the day” she practiced,
When away from other girls during her work,
With tears running through her cheek,
As thought of the one whom she meant these songs,
May never be heard by the one her heart belongs.

In those fanciful dreams her mind wrapped,
She forgot the way the days lengthened,
The Lady Day was at hand and soon would be followed
By the Old Lady Day, when her term at this farm ends.
But all her plans and preparations changed,
As all that she cared for, around her fell,
When on an evening someone knocked,
At the house where she lived,
And asked for Tess and in through the twilight came,
A figure with the height of a woman,
The breadth of a child, tall, thin,
When her name the figure uttered,
Tess jumped up all startled and asked,
“What is it Liza Lu?”
As a child Tess left her sister at home,
And in a year up she sprung,
To a girl that showed the innocent charm,
Once the whole Wessex seen,
In the form of Tess herself,
Now stands cold and pale with inexperience,
Tired of walking all day searching for Tess.
Liza Lu in image and character filled,
Those old little shoes of Tess,
Found her to tell their mother is badly ill,
And probably seeing her twilight days,
And their father is not very well either,
Who in stubborn D’Urberville nature says,
It is wrong for him, a man of high family,
To slave and sweat at common mans work.

A long time in reverie Tess stood,
As all combinations of choices passed,
Through her mind but none could make her stay,
And to a decision she came,
Though her agreement don’t end till old lady day,
Decided she to leave for home,
Begging Marion and Izz to plead,
Her case with the farmer.

Tucking Liza Lu into her own bed,
As the tired Liza cannot undertake,
Fifteen miles of walk at night,
Tess asked her to follow next day and left,
For home in the cold dark night.

Making darkness of the night a protection,
Tess ventured through familiar grounds,
The roads and by-roads silently she took,
Inns and villages with no fear she passed,
And at three the maze of lanes she turned,
Into Marlott passing the field where she met,
Angel first, when with her he did not danced,
The disappointment of that still she felt,
As close to her home fast she moved,
In recent times the home she only saw,
In imaginations, in the dark she saw in real.

She walked in as a candle in the dark, dark house,
A little light in a home where illness loomed,
Her father’s ill health and mother in death bed,
As the day broke through the thatches, she found,
The amazing growth of her siblings in a year she had gone,
Oh’ a moment at which her own care she forgot,
And put her heart and soul in the care of them.

Days passed and the sickness in the house lessened,
And her attention from indoors to outdoors turned,
Where in the season of sowing she worked hard,
To get the allotted plots of her family green,
The days grew long and sun shined high and bright,
Clouds sometime showered for the welfare of all,
A bit of peace to her mind came,
And in her dreams with Angel she always danced,
But the D’Urberville, the villain of her life,
Stalked her even in her plot in the gloom of dusk.
On that fateful gloomy dusk when away from Alec she left,
On her way Liza and other kids in tears came,
To give her the news of the death of her dear old dad.

Though in achievements not so lucky Mr.Durbeyfield maybe,
But the lease on their house ended with his life,
No more as freeloaders Durbeyfields in that house can live,
Once conquerors of land now homeless peasants,
Material life once more handed Durbeyfields defeat,
Still hopes about a soul in the mind of Tess, lingered.

The agro world into mobility went,
Around the old lady day in the Wessex lands,
Joan Durbeyfield to a defined decision came,
To move to Kingsbere where D’Urbervilles lay,
Knowing or unknowing a true D’Urbervile family,
Homeless, with a little hope for a plight prepare.

The day before the move a rainy one in Marlot,
Tess knelt on a bench and the falling rain she watched,
Then thoughts from the depths of mind sprouted,
As the return of her and restoration of a baby grave,
Oh’ those actions and her presence questioned,
By the society against which Joan fought,
And agreed to leave as soon as they can,
But for Tess, her mom and siblings could have stayed,
As weekly tenants in the home from birth they lived.

As the rain ceased to pour,
Tess near the window in her thoughts stayed,
Oh’ her thoughts far, far away from there ran,
As even when Alec D’Urbervilles arrival went unnoticed,
Woke up from her thoughts the casement she opened,
Welcoming an enemy with smile to her home came.

First Alec made fun of the dreaming Tess,
Then told old folklore about the D’Urvervilles,
The legend about the D’Urberville coach,
In which in old times a real D’Urberville abducted,
A beautiful woman and her struggle got herself killed,
Or she killed the pagan D’Urberville Alec was unsure,
Then he noticed all the thing packed,
For the reasons in eagerness he queried,
Tess told the reasons for their preparation for the plight,
As she is no proper woman in the eyes of the country side folks.

Alec the convert who first became a preacher,
Now in the masquerade of preacher the old wolf howled,
Yelled, screamed and the country folks he cursed,
To his home Tess and her family he invited,
Still prying on a prey who have only pain in her veins remain.

Tess in all her eloquence and charm declined,
Alec’s offer of help, though she very well knew,
Her husband in real had estranged her for too long,
The more she stay around her own family,
Would only hurt what she loves and in all surety,
The one who loves her, though no sign of his love found,
When the fake love of her enemy in all brightness,
All around her and the ones she care with her life found.

Alec left with his curses and screams,
Near the window looking at the gravel road Tess stayed,
For a long time deep in thoughts about that day,
Then a rush of tears consumed her as she thought,
How hard events, society and even her own dear husband dealt,
Though from the depths of her heart no wrong she ever intended,
Still all judgments without understanding her taken,
Leaving her and all she care in shame and evil minded enemy,
Who thrive on her tears spiritually and smiles in love so fake,
Offering help materially where so much of a peasant she was made.

Without more thoughts she passionately took,
A piece of paper and on with she wrote,
“O why have you treated me so monstrously,
Angel, I do not deserve it,
Thought about it all, all over so carefully,
And never, never can I forgive you,
You of all know very well I did not intend,
To wrong you, but why have you so wronged me,
You are cruel, cruel indeed that I will try,
To forget you, as it is injustice I received,
At your hands, injustice I have received.” T.

She gave the letter of bitterness and frustration,
To the postman who passed her home later,
Then got back to kneeling posture near the window,
Nothing changed in the months passed in Angel’s eyes,
As nothing new into his eyes Tess can bring forth,
But something new happened around her by that time,
As her younger ones around the fire place gathered,
And with them without giving much more thoughts,
To darker thoughts that grew darker Tess joined,
And told them it was the last night for them all,
In a place where they were born and grew up,
That made those little ones quiet as they knew not,
What to say or even think in their age of innocence.

Tess changed the subject and started singing,
Old folk songs and the children joined,
And as in singing they spent their evening,
Joan and Liza Lu back to home came,
As to her mother curious question about who came,
To their home Tess first said none,
When about the man on horse back children reminded,
Joan once more curiously asked,
If that was her husband who came.
To which with all irony and hopelessness Tess said,
“No he’ll never, never come”
Then to her dear old mother Tess assured,
She will tell her who came and what he said,
Every word, when in Kingsbere next day after they settle,
But once more said, it was not her husband who came,
Though the thought that in physical and material sense,
The one who came was alone her husband in her weighed in.

The small hours of the Marlot morning woke,
To the rumblings of a family leaving,
Tess her siblings and mother left,
For Kingsbere where Tess decided to wait,
For her estranged husband only memories remembered.

On the way Tess met Izz and Marion at an inn they stopped,
About the preacher looking for her, to Tess they told,
Whom she knows still will be in her trail,
They once again asked if her husband returned,
Tess answered in negative though in positive hoped,
After saying bye to her friends Tess and family continued,
To Kingsbere where later in the evening they reached,
To learn that the room they reserved there were gone,
As no word of their arrival the land lord received.

With little money and no home Joan with her children roamed,
All around Kingsbere to find lodgings for the night,
None they found and in the end before the church yard they came,
Joan in ironical tones told the wagoner to unload,
The household goods and their owners whose ancestors,
Lay in graves right beside where they stopped unnoticed by all.

Joan with Liza Lu to look for lodgings left,
As the little ones in the makeshift place rested,
Tess went around the church where she found,
Centuries old graves covered the yard where she entered,
For the first time in her life the church where her ancestors rests,
As through the dying day in the church yard walked,
She came to a stone that said,
“OSTIUM SEPULCHRI ANTIQUAE FAMILIAE D’URBERVILLE”
As through her fancy thoughts about ancestors walked,
The oldest effigy to which she looked and to her shock,
It moved and towards her side came,
In the fading light the almost fainting Tess saw,
The figure of Alec who came fast to hold her from falling.

Once more Alec and Tess argued in his offering for help,
And Alec asked her what he should do,
To which Tess gathering the cold of the evening,
And ancestral strength though dead and buried murmured,
“Go away”.
Alec left promising to try his luck,
With Joan where he knows lives the weakness of Tess.
After he left bend down on the vaults gates Tess said,
“Why am I on the wrong side of this door!”.

Meanwhile Izz and Marion continued their journey,
To almost an unknown destination in talks,
About Angel Clare and his unfortunate wife,
They talked in length about how he means nothing,
To both of them anymore and no more grudge to him they keep,
And to meant up the quarrel between Tess and Angel they decided,
But a new unknown place and re-establishing there too all attention,
As they settled down in a month they heard,
About the approaching return of Angel Clare,
Together they both came up with these lines,
“Honored Sir,
Look for your wife I you do love her,
In the same way she do love you,
For she is sore put by an enemy in shape of friend,
And the one who should be near but who is away,
A woman should not be try’d beyond her strength,
And continual dropping will wear away any stone,
Ay more a diamond.
From Two Well Wishers.”

The letter was addressed to the only place they knew,
About Angel Clare, the address of his parents,
They both in mixed emotions first sang aloud,
And in thoughts wept at the same time.

End of Phase the Sixth.

Here are the previous phases.

Tess Of The D’Urbervilles. Phase The First–The  Maiden.

Tess Of The
D’Urbervilles-Phase The Second–Maiden No More

Tess Of The
D’Urbervilles-Phase The Third–The Rally.

Tess Of The D’Urbervilles Phase The Fourth–The Consequence.

Tess Of The D’Urbervilles Phase The Fifth–The Woman Pays-Part 1.

Tess Of The D’Urbervilles-Phase The Fifth-Part 2-The Plight, In Tears And Hope.

Tess Of The
D’Urbervilles-Phase The Sixth–The Convert-Part 1.

Here is the original text I followed to write this part of the Novel as a poem. Tess Of The D’Urbervilles-Phase The Sixth-The Convert

Rhythms Of An Unchoreographed Dance.

I am still sick actually not a lot more sick but I am sick. Coughing at steady intervals. Medicines have made my body very toxic that’s what I can say. So I am staying away from everyone sitting in the basement. I hope everyone survived the arctic blast. Woo that was cold but you know what, even though it makes me sick, I love the cold, freeze, snow and Ice any day. What else is going on? Mmm Obama received the Nobel peace prize pssst and justified wars. Daang he is one lucky guy who is fighting war on one side and receiving peace prize on the other. Anyway no other news really touched me than that. Actually it made me laugh. The world was way better when I was a kid at least spiritually.

   Well, you all might’ve seen the video I posted along with the last poem. I can add just this. I am not a person who takes my way upon others, there is a way each and every person live, believes and achieves. It differs from person to person. One person’s treasure is another’s trash that doesn’t mean all are trash. I don’t thrust my ideas upon others just because I think for me it is right, it may be wrong for another person. So people should understand we are in many ways a collection of more than 6 billion islands connected by the care and love we give each other. It is those connections that makes life peaceful and more wonderful. Some people from totally different backgrounds, age and even geographical distances connect together in this age of information highway. Once connected even though people may not see, hear or communicate each other just don’t lose the connection between themselves. It will be there beyond, past, present and future which is defined by time. In the spiritual world, there is no time factor. Well, that’s just my way. Tell me about your way of dealing with things from past, in present, thinking about future.

       Here is a poem I wrote as a first draft a while back and now gave a different context. The word Unchoreographed is not a perfect word as one may not find it in any dictionary. But it conveys the meaning in my mind. The idea of the poem is simple. It takes two to tango hehe. See, a connection happens between two people. It is up to those two to decide where to take it. Sometime one will fail to understand or some people go through delusions of just not accepting the fact that there is a feeling of care for another person. They try everything to just get rid of the feeling, justify with every means why they don’t care. Each time, they will only underline the care and love for another person. At times that reality makes both very, very sad. These are the thoughts that came to my mind when I wrote this poem. The whole idea is not depicted in the poem as is. But you all will know what is implied when you finish reading this poem.

Rhythms Of An Unchoreographed Dance.

Step by step the dancer moved,
The rhythm from music in mind heard gathered,
Picturing next steps standing on the present,
Not knowing anything about the next steps,
As all that is real is the past and the new born moment.

The mysterious illusions so tempting to follow,
The tender naked feet so fast lay,
Dragging thoughts way deep in the past erupted.
All those thoughts under those well laid steps buried.

Past is the history, the well laid foundation,
Future is the illusion the hunter in everyone hunts,
And present is where past can bring us,
And the bows well stretched to fire the feelings to morrows.
 
Though so wonderful to watch the dancer’s dance,
Taking rhythm from heart in spontaneity births,
For the odd laid steps a rhythm in another heart births,
For which no tune the dancer heard.

Every step of the dance piece of the jigsaw puzzle,
Every piece placed in the order it meant to be,
The puzzle when finished should always look,
In the past when the puzzle was drawn,
And step by step of a dance from a dynamic mind,
Portrayed the face of a lover the dancer never expected to see.

Oh listen to your own heart beat,
The whistling tunes gather the dusts of past,
From which colors of all kinds in love brewed,
And a jigsaw puzzle through fate of life made,
The finished jigsaw puzzle is meant to be in your heart,
Reality of all this is a dance none choreographed,
The rhythm of that dance can be heard,
Only when counterpoints of two heart beats are heard.

Here is the BlogTV presentation of the Poem.
Rhythms Of A Dance – Broadcast your self LIVE

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved

The Girl In A Poet’s Soul.

I am really very sick, my sinus literally started bleeding after sneezing so much. I’ve heard from many of my friends they are all sick too. Oooh what is going on around? This is not flu it just makes you sneeze forever blasting your brains off.

  I thought of doing all day and night shows on blogtv this weekend. But blah blah blah ouchooo still sneezing. I may do a show briefly to record the poem I am posting below. I hope you guys like this poem. It was written to get a thought out of my mind. Then I ended up in a fantasy world hehe hope you all will get the idea behind this poem. It is really simple… when one dreams so hard eventually one will lose the reality altogether. I once faced such a situation that was the starting point. But what if the dream is a comfort place from where one never want to leave? That thought brought the rest of the poem. Feel free to comment on this one.

  There is something I wanted to do and I ended up saying.. I don’t know if this is right or wrong. If wrong please forgive me. I should have never put myself in that situation. There is one person sad about it all, unfortunately the one single, lonely person is me. There are a bunch of lines removed from this poem after I finished it. That’s another unfortunate, sad thing. Do you know that you want to say something and then you don’t know if whatever you may say will have an adverse effect???  mmm that’s where I am. I wrote in my Twitter Love is like water, it takes the shape, color and characteristics of the place where it is in. It can be a blessing or can become very destructive. I thought love indeed destroyed my life. Then I smiled and said…. Love indeed made me who I am. Thank you my darling who never loved me.


Have a great week ahead everyone.

The Girl In A Poet’s Soul.

Once upon a time when summer gave dreams,
A girl in a strange world I met,
Though unknown never a stranger she made me feel,
And a whistler I became and along my own tunes I danced.
 
In the tunes I played, wrote verses understood,
By that wonderful soul better than anyone else,
Every doubt about me the summer sun erased,
Though none seen or heard, whistling went on and I danced.
 
Oh’ many steps I danced and all were wrong,
Many tunes I whistled O wrong thoughts they invoked,
In a mind filled with verses of love and by passions twisted,
But in the love seen in those eyes O all my thoughts purified.
 
In the pure mind she made, myself I can never forgive,
From the mind in her care molded, her image I can never erase,
And from a soul only for her soul dedicated,
No more verses about another soul I can write and recite.
 
Darker and clueless days birthed became,
And dream filled sleep only portions of nights consumed,
Still smiles of blessings every time the sweetness of that soul gave,
And no more tears I can shed as its love for her from my eyes spread,

Days with chaos, life in limitless pains and loneliness may come,
Nights in little sleep, rest in meaningless thoughts I may spend,
Years ahead empty they never will be,
Decade after decade in the penance of loving her, this soul will survive.
 
Seeking forgiveness the poet concluded,
The whole nature in pause, long nightly hours stayed,
I can only say, the poet love like the flow of a river,
Steadily and slowly it consumed but still flown.

Love like the water took shape and color of all places passed,
Seeking the depths of ocean the river in gallops roared,
But the ocean the river in eagerness sought,
Oh’ an illusion erased without a trace.

Here is the BlogTV presentation of the poem with an introduction explaining this poem further.

The Girl In Poets Soul – Broadcast your self LIVE
©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved

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The Lost Kite.

I love winter days. Last night the temperature came down to about 19F here where I live well it gave me a running nose which may eventually give me the flu. But isn’t that the fun of winter. Well what do you get when it is cold cold cold…. a poem written in thought of days of warmth.

The Lost Kite.

The sun from the depths of night crawled,
And sailed through the morning warming,
Lands, water and the bright lit gardens seen,
Smiling through the face of flowers and waving,
And the glory to yester nights lost sun regained.

Through the ridges of paddy fields walked,
With care not to fall among tadpoles,
Never really looked back ahead or up,
Just saw a face from above looking sharp,
Oh’ my own little face I remember.

My shoulders in the love of summer sun shined,
Then with old news papers and coconut leaf sticks made,
The kite only in imaginations seen,
A big kite with a long, long tail and pointed tips,
Like a creature in summer afternoon wind waved.

The summer wind to heights closer to white clouds took,
The kite flown so high like a dot far, far away moved,
Every stretch of string in the way I want, the kite moved,
Slicing sunlight and the blowing warm wind,
And through the edge of ridges in joy I ran.

Oh’ the joy made me blind and nothing I have seen,
And the fields don’t last forever and the ending I have not known,
From the edge into the pool of mud and water I fell,
Oh’ my joy just dissolved into mud with muddy face I looked,
Saw the kite waving bye, bye to me swaying head in disgust.

When in disappointments my hands and face I washed,
An image from far sight of life to my mind came,
A kite in the shape of heart I saw,
In all lost hopes and dreams with broken threads,
In winds unknown, too far and too high swaying and disappeared.

With eyes closed in the pond I sat,
Until nothing more in my minds eyes I saw,
When standing up and eyes I opened,
Darkness all around me and nature filled,
Instead of kites, material sight and sky with blinking stars filled.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved

A Tree At The End Of Fall

Hello Everyone hope you all have had a good Thanksgiving weekend. Here is my latest work.

A Tree At The End Of Fall

 

Silence will never touch your heart,
As the beat of your heart universe takes,
And in the rhythm stars dances,
From where born the light lovers forever will see
And to my heart I speak not,
As forever to the rhythm of your heart I listen.

Among the wandering winds I walked,
And still heard the whispers of my own soul,
Whispers of my soul I listen not,
As the wind howled in chanting,
The words of love you said.

Thunders I heard far behind,
And lightning showing horizons blazed,
And the clouds scattered drowning shinning stars,
Scattered may be all that can bless with rain,
And the scattered ruins fell far behind you and me.
The leaves may have all fallen away,
But still stand withering the storms with the will of love,
Like a tree Oh’ even in the rains at end of fall.

Winds from ahead may come uninvited,
And the winds that surrounds scatter leaves fallen,
Oh’ in them still remain veins undead,
As gather you can the leaves of fall,
And make them the fuel for springs yet to come.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved

The Serpents Of Time

Here is a poem called The Serpents Of Time. It is a simple poem not a lot of twisted ways or ideas in it. Enjoy the thanksgiving eve folks.

The Serpents Of Time.

Far beyond skies, far beyond stars,
Consuming all, Conquering all,
Crawling through every bit of space,
The serpents of time defeats all.

But beyond the grasp of time live,
Feelings of humans that sprouts,
And in those feelings outlives time,
Images of a beautiful face.

Oh’ the history of time will speak,
Volumes about the events,
Events that brought two hearts together,
Conquering, consuming, each other.

All those who spit venom of hatred at us,
Oh’ in the honey of the flower of love,
All venom of hatred will dissolve,
And mists of doubts about our love will clear.

And every serpent of time will spit,
The feeling of love we together made,
And forever will live the legends of our love,
As time crawls through time itself.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved

The Invisible Dream

My friends, relatives, xanga family I hope you all had a fantastic weekend. It was a great one for me. My sincere apologies for not really coming in here actually I was here most of the time those who checked the xanga would’ve seen me talking on the video blog show. Well if you have any questions you can chat with me right under the video. The xanga chat is not working so I needed to add a chat thing under the video. This is the thanksgiving week folks so enjoy every bit of it.

The Invisible Dream.

The whispers of the wind, to listen I tried,
The falling of the leaves, to listen I tried,
From depths of mind a wish to be heard pried,
As silence all around me, loomed.

The face of a naughty girl time took,
And from the days light she stole,
And from the nights stars she stole,
But in chaos of fate lucky stars of mine she lost.

Oh’ lightless in days, starless at night,
Far sight of mind darkness held,
Even in minds ears Oh’ only an echo heard,
Somewhere far echo of a dream still floated.

Love whispered, passions awaken,
Lover with flickers of light came,
But to kindle candle that will show dreams, failed,
Oh’ only pathos of a dream lost, heard.

O dear your face I have never seen,
Your eyes to every reality you closed,
Your voice among screams of material life unheard,
Dreams about holding each other in arms, invisible remained.

Though unreal it all seems and sounds,
The reality never seen light from both our love,
Speak the truth, dance through the paths,
Break loose from heart those invisible dreams.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved

Jimmy Fund

Hello everyone, hope you all had a fantastic weekend. My weekend was hectic lot of things to do and I came around and did about 25% of it. Well in the weekend I attended this blogtvshow by Artists4Life who was raising money for Jimmy Fund to provide for Cancer Research. Lot of musicians, artists and poets turned up there for doing co-hosting with Artists4Life and contributed for this good cause. As for me I donated a poem I wrote for the show with some well wishing messages. Here are those messages and poem. Later tonight in my show I will be presenting the poem and messages live.

The Power Of Heart.

Talking through time in limitless words,
Walking through in rhythm heart listens,
When painless one wish to feel,
And pain from all sides squeezes, mercilessly.

The world in sympathy speaks and looks,
Some minds in empathy adores,
Love defines meanings in new found ways,
Material of another life cut short, but in love fulfilled.

Medicines, therapy, effects and side effects,
All ready to crumble even the strongest,
But deep inside a power reigns and consumes,
Every corner of soul, mind and in turn the whole body.

Be the power that thinks not about past,
Bring forth the will that crowns every supporting soul,
Fall not in despair of pain or weakness of blood and marrow,
Every sickness holds the cure to heal itself.

Every beat of heart empowers the soul,
Every moment a well cherished fulfillment,
In the power of heart no pain felt,
A power that heals every wound in light of love.

No pain can over shadow the healing touch of love,
None can stop anyone from giving love,
Such was the power of heart one in will can give,
And in giving everyone can find.

 
Here are the well wishing messages.

 
(1)
The smile and laughter you bring,
Became the prayer of mine for you,
Every moment passes in past drowns,
Every moment together spent as a blessing taken,
Oh’ a century of happiness I wish for you,
In the wellness of heart, soul and body gains,
And every breath of mine will be a prayer for you.

 
(2)
Daytime brings light everywhere,
In nights we see stars spreading the beauty of light,
May the light of healing spread night and day,
And make you the light in starless nights.

 
(3)
On any given moment billions exhale and inhale,
On every moment, everyone is part of a bigger picture not seen,
On this moment unwell you maybe,
But in every moment in every heart that known yours,
Very well you always will be that gives you strength to get well soon.

The Fallen Lover.

The Fallen Lover.
Oh I look at those eyes with tears in my eyes filled,
And think about the days, in which I loved,
Though the merry feelings in my heart you left,
Brings image of you stand holding the light in your hands,
Light upon your face reflecting,
Those lovely lips, straight nose upon which some shadow fell,
Those rose colored cheeks, pointy chin,
Irregular eyebrows, brown hair in candle light as reddish seen,
But those eyes as little shiny ones in the image I see,
But deeper than the vast outer space mankind ever known,
Now in that image I see no love in your eyes for me,
No love in your eyes for me O dear,
All I felt, misunderstandings of a mind lost in fantasy.
Tired hands never rose to wipe away those tears.

Why did I loved you, for what I loved you,
Oh’ God, why did I ever met her and took her in my mind,
And cared for her more than anyone ever cared for her,
From falling in love with her Oh’ God why you never stopped me,
If ever the charm of that soul I ever swayed,
Oh’ forever in my own curse, my life will crush,
As for the wonderful soul she is no forgiveness I deserve.

Never for her words will I wait,
As forever I will remain in dark searching for more darkness,
And forever my own shadows I will curse,
For the wishes, hopes, dreams and my moth eaten soul,
Filled with only her image and love only for her.


©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved

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