Tag Archives: love poem

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

Finding my Guru

Hovering between Known and unknown
Judging what is right and wrong
Whether all is just a Maya
Or a science of facts

Juggling between dreams and real,
Virtual world’s lure or calmness surreal
To tighten which rope, to follow whom

I discover a world of my own
Somewhere in between
Where I am free to ride on a swing
One leap inside, in the arena of ecstasy
Where I float like a cloud
Become One with all that is

And this power of being nothing
Declutters, makes my luggage light
Thrusts me to take a leap with greater push
To reach to a greater height

In this swing, I find a light
In the valley of my own darkness
I become my own Guru
When I become nothing

Love

I am a wraith

Fanning away at your bedewed forehead

A gentle breeze in a window less room

 

Sometimes

I am a fluttering heart beat

A flitting thought

A joyous song

 

I am a mist

Rising and falling

With each breath
Living in utterances
losing myself in silences
I am a shadow

Melting happily into contours
I fall as tears from adoring eyes

And dart back quickly

To snuggle between supple lips

Yearning for Love

Life is unfilled,
I have lost my pride.
Dejection is making me crazy.
Still, you’re not close by. . . .

The torment you are putting me through,
The hurt and the tears,
Don’t you see ?
How much you intend to me?
Do you even give it a second thought?

My smiles have fallen upon blind eyes,
And, my words upon deaf ears.
The sunset falls on one more day,
But, I have yet to see its wonder.

My spirit whispers tenderly for your love,
However, the night is my chilly sidekick.
Annoyance and dissatisfaction concentrate intensely,
While my heart is wrapped in misery.
Regulated I proceed with the voyage,
Yearning just for the glow of pure love.

My love for you I now bury.
The inclination I believed was solid
Has vanished and gone,
So it’s a great opportunity to say farewell.
Adieu Adieu…….

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

Life is a Process

Life is a process
Where everyday
People feel that
They are into a race

Life is when
You learn everyday
When you fight
And you win each day

Life is not
To stay in misery
It gives you lesson
To understand each day

Life is blessed
So why to take stress
Smile and be happy
Enjoy life even in distress

Life is always
Work in progress
To prosper daily
Shine everyday

25.03.2016
© Sha Azam Siddiqui – All rights reserved
#Azamsuniversepoetry

The return of unconquerable spirit

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The place is like an estuary vandalized
Where once the peaceful river of life
And the fiery sea of human greed met
In that cartography, between the dreams
Unfolds continents of real-life-miseries
Inside the blue-sheet tent she sits stone-like
With a docile brain, trained to cease thinking
Staring at the young man – fair and tall, who
Stands with his eyes on her pale boney face
Where life remains with its broken ribs
As if in a flash back scenes started playing;

– – – – The thud of thundering missiles
– – – – She hugs the 7 year old boy to her bosom
– – – – Covering him with her body
– – – – The walls and roof collapse
– – – – From under the debris she struggles
– – – – Somehow reaches the open
– – – – Some people come, pat the dust off them
– – – – Days without eating, under the sun and moon
– – – – A truck load of them get transported to the border
– – – – She hands the boy to her sister and yell “go and live”
– – – – She turned to her man, groaning , wounded
– – – – The boy struggled to reach her but the soldier pushes

The scenes end and the boy yells “Maaaaaa”
A glint of life crossed her face – “Ma”
She looked at the skeletal form sitting near her
They were yoked on a same electric pulse
Yore in the west, through the low opening of the tent
The sun radiated a golden smile
Now even the death is welcome
And she smiled, the father too
After the unflinching wait of so long years
The unconquerable spirit smiled in them

 

sarala

Frederick and Geraldine (Part 7)

Chiara, Arturo’s wife, approached them together with
Lucca and Francesca, the other Italian pair
Saying, ”Is Quare’s invention real? I think it is a myth.”
” His barometer measures the pressure of the air.”

Chiara wore a red big gown, with lace trimming the low,
A green velvet mantel, which was lined with some ermine,
Square neckline and sleeves, which were gathered at the elbow.
She spoke well Italian, Spanish, and German.

Italians wanted to disembark at Syracuse.
Bella and Miguel traveled to Barcelona home.
To find a new home, Naimah and his son had an excuse.
Out of their Turkey’s limit, through the storms, they would roam.

Tia, Athan, Megan, and Karsten would disembark
At Selanik, an Ottoman province, where Ahmed
The Third was reigning while his war was a fire in the dark.
They were Greeks being born during the reign of Mehmed.

Marco and Rosa, Cruz and Pedra, Pedro and Carla
Were Portuguese pairs coming home from America.
They had bought from the Pueblo Indians some ollas.
They gave one to the Russian pair, Ivan and Erica.

Ivan said, ”Tell me something about these Indians.”
Carla said, ”Their belief means dualism; they eat corn.
Some of them became Catholic due to the Spanish civilians.
They think they emerged from the underwater space to be born.”

Carla wore a black cap, having a veil, and a green gown
Patterned with acorns and flowers, and her sleeves were caught
With jeweled clasps on the lace at the elbow; her eyes were brown.
”The water is fresh in the ollas; I like their color a lot.”

She asked Ivan’’ Now, where do you go? ’’ ‘’We left the war.’’
”Ahmed and Peter the First! ” replied Cruz, ” tell me something,
How could you reach Constantinople after coming from a far ”
Zone? ””I do trade with them, but this war destroyed everything.”

”Did you lose everything you had? ” Marco asked Ivan.
”To make business in Turkey, I sold all my Russian goods.”
Erica tried this conversation to enliven,
”In Portugal, we’ll search for a job in cities and hoods.”

Marco wore a banyan with a patterned lining; his cuffs
Were embroidered in gold; his justacorps and stockings
Over his breeches were red like Rosa’s shoes and muffs.
All of them wore periwigs and talked a lot while walking.

(to be continued)

Poem by Marieta Maglas

The Gypsy

O’ mystical mystery!

In your asymmetrical symmetry, many a clue derives shape

The strings of Apollo play in gasps

The gypsy watches, rims agape.

 

Those founts teased by pecks silvery

Desires he too a drop to pen

Desires he too a drop to quench

You, an innocent verse turned ballad juvenile

The gypsy waits to drench.

 

Shivers in noon, shivers in moon

O’ mystical mystery!

To your shanty mellow, do invite soon

Beneath the ray laden gem in the night half crescent,

The gypsy begins to croon.

 

Amidst the penman’s bliss; a few letters amiss

Where lost are you?

What marks the pain?

Is it the cycle with patterns mobile?

Or is it the equilibrium-

The stagnant call ‘Rain’.

 

O’ mystical mystery!

In your asymmetrical symmetry, many a clue derives shape

The gypsy figures the canvas

Emotion, none but a conjuror’s trick

The show, its staged

The gypsy watches, rims agape.

Phase

Fail did he

in scripting the wild

Though promises seemed

like candyfloss to a child

Fail did he

in breathing for a while

That was the time

he parted with his quill

He couldn’t be with her.

 

Realise did he later

what he had lost

The rain in its flowing beauty

just before the frost

Realise did he

the eternal knot

That was the time

he again cuddled his quill

He again breathed her.