Tag Archives: writer

A whiff of the past…

Some aromas give you
A whiff of the past;
And you breathe in,
A part of your own yesterdays,
Like forgotten melodies rippling away
To faded pages
Of a yellowed diary.

Last day, the scent of turmeric
Took me with absolute ease-
To a pampered childhood-
Of healed bruises-
It showed me a serene face
With a sparkling nosepin
And a purple kumkum
And wrinkled palms with rough fingers-
Adept at hardwork-
Tending to my wounds.

I reminded myself that the earth, in fact, had gulped down her soul-
And I wondered if she had left parts of herself here with me-
Probably her best ones.

A Home Upon the Hill

 

I will build a home upon the hill

With windows for every sun

Each room with mountain air shall fill

And night and day will be as one.

Bird song will waken the day

While cicadas lull it to sleep.

 

The fragrant air so wholesome

With shades of

Eucalyptus, pine and balsam

Will make a confluence

Of every room.

 

In Spring time flowers will bloom

In Summer the drones will moan

Punch drunk on pure nectar

Teetering to the honeycomb

In Autumn the colours will flow

The world will dance

And fall in a trance

From the crystal shine of the Winter’s snow.

 

The warbling stream

Will feed an afternoon’s dream

Where the muse will descend

Her song to lend

Our blended song shall delight

The daze of moon blanched nights

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 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

Life is Everything

LIFE IS EVERYTHING

This world is wonderful
It has an enormous beauty
Enjoy life
Each and every moment
Life is everything
It’s precious more than anything
.
Live each day with blessings
Blessed are our souls
Blessed are we
Life is everything
Make someone’s life meaningful
A life that is so beautiful

© Sha Azam Siddiqui – All rights reserved

Life is like Raindrops

Life gives many reasons
Everyday to smile
Like a cheerful raindrop
This makes earth smile

Life is a wet road
On which we all walk
Let’s start enjoying rain
And we will see
Glory of life in soothing rain

Life is to enjoy
Every drop of rain
We can’t hide ourselves
So let’s start enjoy this drain

Each raindrops is small
But together it’s rain
This has the capacity
To remove barren lands in vain

Let us all try
To be like rain
Wherever we move
Let’s remove all pain

Life is better
And always it will be
If we have the courage
To be happy
In every situation
Whatever it may be

24.03.2016
(c) Sha Azam Siddiqui – All rights reserved
#Azamsuniversepoetry

Life is a Myth

LIFE IS A MYTH

Life is a mystery
With untold stories
People live life
With blind eyes

Life is here
It’s everywhere
If you see
Life surrounds us
With incredible delight

Still we run
Looking for life
But we forget
To see within
Where actually
Life resides

We live here
Where we have to show
And to complete that
Everywhere we vow

Live is living
With our own existence
Life without pride
It’s how we live
And we have decide

Let’s make this world
A beautiful place to live
A place worth living
For that love everyone
And learn act of giving

23.03.2016
(c) Sha Azam Siddiqui – All rights reserved
#Azamsuniversepoetry

(Geraldine was walking on the deck while waiting nervously for Fredrick. Suddenly, he appeared while speaking quickly and gesturing.)

”I’ve waited for you all day long to come up with some fuel.”
”I went to buy charcoal, water, and outdoor lamp oil.
At a crossroad, I’ve seen a stage driver who has been so cruel
To whip his horses to run faster; the oil spilled on the soil.

He drove a stagecoach; my horse was frightened by the sound
And my trolley overturned. I had to come back to buy
Again three barrels of oil.” ”That oil spilled on the ground, ”
Said Geraldine, ”the money has gone, and this is not a lie!

I don’t ask you to tell me where you’ve really spent the money.
It makes no sense to ask you for the truth. Is she beautiful?
Did you have a good time? To wash laundry in public, honey,
You may bring her here. This way, you can be dutiful.”

”I love you, ” screamed Frederick, ” so, you think you’re funny.”
”Well, I may be funny although I’m never stupid.”
He held her, ”I sold some jewels. Take the money.
I could lie to you, but you’re the one. I’m down with Cupid.”
”Do you remember that man having a ring with a skull? ”
”You’ve met him in Constantinople, ” ”I’ve met him here, too.
He was in that stagecoach liking this way his horses to cull.
He laughed saying, ”I’m a captain in search for my crew.” ”

”Frederick, I want to return home at Khadjibey.
Do you remember when we’ve met in the port and you
Gave me an emerald cut on a gold ring shining at the ray? ”
”I’ve asked you to marry me, ” ”I love you; you know it’s true.”

”Then why do you want to turn back home? ” ”You know I’m scared.”
” This is our chance. If we turn back in that unknown trading port
For slave markets, I will not survive; I’m not prepared
To ask the sanjak bey some protection and a lot of support.

I am an Italian and I’ve seen so many things.
I saw the terrible fate of those becoming galley-slaves,
The women enslaved being sexually abused, in sufferings,
But someone living in Khadjibey is a plow and a scythe. ”

” Is this artwork painted by Paolo de Matteis or not? ”
Asked Francesca while coming to them. ”What are you doing here? ”
”We really like to admire that splendid island a lot.”
”Shall we offer them a string instruments’ concert, Chiara dear? ”

Khadjibey was controlled by the Ottoman Empire
As a part of Yedisan in the Silistra Province.
To build a fortress named New World was the Turks’ desire.
Carla said, ” This meeting has been chosen by The Providence.”

Carla concluded that Geraldine was an American,
But Geraldine did not understand the confusion.
She learned Spanish from the Jews, who were Spain citizens
Coming to the Empire to avoid the conversion.

”My father lost a lot because of the plague and the disaster, ”
Said Miguel, ”a half of my wealth has been gone in the warfare.
We thought to immigrate to a new world which was moving faster
Than this one in which we were living as those lost in the nightmare.”

Cruz asked him, ”Why didn’t you try your chance for a new life? ”
”I wasn’t strong enough, and my son died in this war made
For the Spanish succession after the King Charles’ death; my wife
Still grieves for her unique child; our life cannot be repaid.”
” In Gibraltar, the property that had been taken
By force became a British one; we moved to Barcelona.
The power balance mirrored those widows standing forsaken.
Let’s cheer this Grand Alliance! It’s as the sun’s light corona.”

” The Anglo and the Dutch kings used the navy to open
The Strait of Gibraltar needing the naval power
In the Mediterranean zone.” ” Guess what was broken? ”
Asked Bella, ”I think it’s about our transatlantic economy shower.”

”By the Treaty of Constantinople, our Russian
Forces had been withdrawn and Zaporozhia lost all
The army protection, ” said Ivan, ”then, our discussion
Was to sell our goods and to leave a life that apart could fall.”
”In the Holy League, Russia joined Austria and Venice
To drive the Turks and to sign a treaty with Poland, ”said Cruz.
”Those horses have never met the steppe, ” said Ivan, ” became a menace,
”Leopold The First was helped by the Turks that Partition could refuse.”
(Geraldine and Erica were talking on the deck.)
”His father had been a soldier that came home after many
Years of serving the czar; he found that his wife had died and
Ivan had lived with an aunt that spent money but didn’t have any.”
For a few minutes, Geraldine was speechless and stunned.

”Erica, why did his mother die? ” ”She was the wife of a serf.
She was a subjugated slave laboring for a lord.”
”Was she beaten? ” asked Geraldine while dampening her scarf.
”She had been raped before she took her own life with his sword.”

”Who’s sword? ” ”The lord’s sword! He was drunk when he beat and raped her.”
”It was a matter whether she overcame the pressure
Of the peasant village where this mother lived not to err.
She died, but I’m sure she loved Ivan without measure.”

His father took Ivan home and worked a part of that lord’s land
As a serf, barely leaving time to cultivate
The land allotted to him while taking care of his child.
Ivan didn’t go to army but asked me to immigrate.”

(Erica, Ivan’s wife, ended the conversation while starting to cry.)

(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.