Tag Archives: life

It is so charming and a true delight
To feel mostly the mosquitoes bite.
When the sluggish sun breaks its own crust,
wind can teach you how to smoke some dust.

When the air smells of somnolent bliss,
Any bee can give you a sweet kiss.
When you are bored and you stifle yawns,
Spunky crickets trigger songs on the lawn.

If you go for a refreshing swim,
Jellyfish come beneath the surface dim.
Maybe at home, the things can turn out cool,
But your car stops because it’s out of fuel.

 

Poem by Marieta Maglas

Life is Transient

Life is a transient mirror
Reflecting in it
The eternal presence of Being;
All the troubles are
Just shadows…

The shadows are a mirage
Tempting one to cover
Some miles of days
Or leave behind some dark nights
In the oblivious past
And all its vicious circles
Of vices and vile…

Life is a walk
A perennial walk into the shade
Of continuum beliefs,
A long experiential journey
From self to soul
Through a testing trajectory
Where one has to prove
The worth of one’s soul
In the ethereal light
Of quietude and equanimity…

Living experience always unfolds
The absolute truth
And the ultimate realization:
Everything exists
Yet exits as nothing ever exists.

– Bhaskaranand Jha Bhaskar

Horizon

I time travelled
I moment moved
Through freezing fog
Through stilled air

Where dreams blend with reality
Where souls battle in serenity
In the deep of the night
In the depth of despair

I crossed the seven hills
I crossed the seven seas
Where lost souls hover endlessly
Where cursed souls wail in peril

I saw where the earth
And the heaven unite
There my journey begins

Senbon Zakura Mirror Dance

I had closed the cracked window.
The gust of the first born wind
disappeared into the coming rain
together with the flute, the drums,
and the fleeting nature
of the movements-
explosions, distortions.

‘Twas like dancing slowly with
the image in the mirror
or like fragmenting
the memories of love
to empty the minds-
emotions that were eaten by
the heat of the summer.

I took a seat near my neighbor
whose husband had been
a soldier fighting in Asia
until having his half of the head
removed by a bullet.
He had always been
one of the best.

 

Suddenly, the movement
became very fast while continuing
without music
like in a sequence of movie frames
that builds tension
to enhance the consciousness-
euphoria, chills.

The dancers were, in fact,
impair numbers having
their white sashes wrapped
around their heads
while pirouetting
at a heightened tempo
to give this motion a sense
of living.

The window opened
to bring the noise of the metropolis
and the smell of the twisting wind.
Well, it was not a killing one
like those coming from the polls
and being filled
with some tiny bacteria
that had been left by the meteors or
by the lost civilizations.
‘Twas only a rainy wind.
These bacteria are not fictions;
they warm up to become
real weapons,
not Disney animations.

Life itself is not an illusion.
When life becomes hallucination,
then, something else
must be actual.

The hail hit
the roof of silence.
The dancers
were waving their arms above
their heads while clapping wildly
their swaying bodies
to express the words-
numbers of God.
I would say that
’twas not a previously
choreographed dance.

Ancestral emotions moved
all the things of the mind
out of the free space.
Crawled swiftly within
the suffering souls from which
have started to disappear peacefully.

 

Poem by Marieta Maglas

The Last Cicada

The sadness scattered
over the walls resonating
with what was
in the heart
of the mountain.
No sound could be heard.
A myriad of eyes belonging to cicadas
were shrouded in mist.

A somewhat long-winded
like a speech
surrounded the sky.
Maybe it was an echo,
a sesquipedalian one.
It wasn’t breathless at all.

Nothing could have saved
nature around.
Neither of the forests,
neither of the birds,
and neither of the bears
could survive…..
Nothing more
could have been done.

All the moving peaks became
small stones, as solitary
as the moon,
at the fugitive horizon.
The last cicada
disappeared.

Everything became motionless.
There were only the shadows
of the trees
to follow the sunbeams.
The nature game
turned detrimentally
into a disaster.

In an illuminated city,
a man bought
a lovely bouquet of red roses
wanting to bestow
what it is considered to be
a symbol of romance.
This man needed
to express his love
and to let his woman know
how he feels about her.
This man disappeared.
He was the last one.
Nothing could have saved him.
Nothing more
could have been done.

Poem by Marieta Maglas

The name of the painter is Adam Sturch.

What’s Going On?

A shrill sound of hope
From anthems and hymns alike
A wave of despair
Touching everything it sights
You watch as from outer space
As life daily pass by
On the rich and poor together
But never in the same manner

What is going on with me?
You wonder out loud
Why are my days marked with so little
Why do I make a faint sound
In a world full of noise
When will I make meaning of my days?
And time will eventually hear my voice

When the wave passed
And the days find a rhythm
One you grace with a slow dance
You realise as you pick your pen
And once again fill up blank pages
That all the words you formed now and then
Are louder than all the noise the world daily screams.

Billboard at the Junction

A billboard stood proudly
at a busy junction of the city,
offering moon to earthlings.
It had a beautiful model
smiling graciously,
showing the product
as the panacea of all ills
and promise of living happily
forever after.

The advert stood there,
a picture of calm,
indifferent to the chaos
of traffic at the junction.
The model smiled
during the day and
shined at night,
mocking at and untouched by
the squalor beneath her,
like lotus blooming in muck.

Right under the billboard,
in makeshift huts,
lived deprived beggars,
ignorant and so stupid
that they never tried
to get the product
that sold the promise
of life’s fulfilment.

Life is Great

Life is always great
It’s we who are afraid
Give yourself wings to fly
You will see a change
Which no one else can create

It’s fascinating to live
But it’s pampering to die
Live with your passion
Show your democracy to fly
That’s how you survive

Loads of enormous courage
Not necessary be required
Little things put together
This is what we live
And this gives reason to strive

Let’s not run
Let us all fly
As scenery
Can be more beautiful
Up from the sky

Don’t give up
It’s not the end
The twist of the story
We can see
When the road will bend

06.04.2016
© Sha Azam Siddiqui
#Azamsuniversepoetry

Life is changing Everyday

Life is changing everyday
It keeps moving day by day
We walk we run we fall
That’s how we learn each day

Today we fall
Tomorrow we will get up
This is our life
Why should we be fed up

Fighting is the nature
Which warrior decide
Which in their heart
It always reside

Life is a journey
Live it with serenity
Everyday share smile
It will remain till eternity

04.04.2016
© Sha Azam Siddiqui – All rights reserved
#Azamsuniversepoetry