Still, as I'm placed gently, carefully, so I may not spill over, 

Dial me up to medium to simmer the symposium that's eager, 

Waiting patiently for my bubbles to burst, to stimulate my undying thirst.

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Oh, look how far I've fallen
Like Icarus with his waxed wings 
Melted by the burning desire; fell hard not soften
What does my actions do? nothing, it brings

Oh, who do I point my fingers to?
It does nothing but makes it more grim
Surrounded by shadow of guilt, no hope nor light's dim 
Thoughts are loud, i just might cut a limb

Everyday I try, everyday I submit
I speak good deeds yet ...

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i sat under an arabian jasmin tree
with a leaf on my mouth and a fire on my fingertips
it has been a long time since i've done something i once loved
i became somewhat aggressive, yet i dont hold no grudge

fallen too deep into becoming what i needed to be
takes time, takes hardwork, and takes responsibility
my question; will the sister of fate spins my thread?
"they are not real, you are ...

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I cannot sleep when the tears never fell when they were meant too.

I cannot sleep when someone I thought I knew never spoke another word to me.

I cannot sleep when all of the voices from past influences are telling me not to waste my potential, my talent.

I cannot sleep.

Knowing i’ve been hurt.

Knowing i’ve hurt people.

Knowing time is passing while I rest my eyes.

Know...

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The only thing that is left,

                        After people die.

Is an essence all bereft,

                        Of every earthly lie.

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Slug – Free Verse Poem

That slippery slime,

That crawls out of damp places,

In the sorrowful night,

It wishes to find a home,

A home of vegetables is like a dream,

If it was a dream like no wonder any slug likes one,

When they crawl out in the day light,

In the garden full of vegetables,

Their dream becomes one.

Sarah Shahzad, November 2019 Short Poems About Life

I...

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after the end

before the beginning....

underneath the lies

over the pain....

with the belief

against the fact....

behind the mask

opening the veils....

in-between time

and eternity....

our sun drops the shadows of the words;

penned down by prophets and poets!

saints and leaders!

 

and singing with the chorus....

flowing with the chords;

when we decei...

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curled on a velvet chair

in a darkening room

is a monstorous teen. 

outside the blackening,

is a fading pink sky.

the clouds within whisper to shepards, 

"Delighted I Hope"

and on the highest grassy hills,

the shepards face eternity.

 

 

 

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Smooth with the blemishes of upside down soccer nets, the permeating stench of feet hollering surround the sand of a beach ball court. The sight of opposite conversations inject the ear with distinct memory ; a 'wake me up before you go go' over "my god i cant fucking stand this school." Small in a way thats new, movements fade as legs pull forward, with fingers spending time typing t...

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I want to tell you.

 I want to write it down. 

I want to have the right words.

I want to feel them. I want you to feel them. I want you to feel what I felt. 

I want you to know. About everything. I want to show it to you in broad daylight. 

I want you to see it. I want you to face it. I want you to taste it 

when the water turns to bleach. I want it to blister the inside of your ...

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From here—

I wish I could capture this moment with my eyes:

 

A rose-golden mist of salt

shimmering in the glow of the setting sun

falling like stardust into the grey-green seams

of water, pulled tightly over by the crest of a broken wave

 

She could devour me in an instant with 

white-water jaws;

swallow me whole and 

spit me into her dark abyss

 

But here—

...

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All these people are walking into my heart.
Sidling up casually,
Loitering inconspicuously,
No wonder no-one notices.
All these people are falling into my heart.
Not watching where they are going,
Momentarily distracted,
No-one notices.
Tall ones, small ones.
Old ones, young ones.
It's a great big party going on,
Still no-one notices.
All these people arriving in my heart.
All these...

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(Wrote the other week in a zoom poetry reading after hearing a Indian Poet describe about how they are constantly hearing ambulances going past their home with ill people from pandemic. I aimed for a haiku with this but the poem decided otherwise and it became a closeish Haiku instead)

 

 

No Ambulances

you long for peace

from the sirens

 

 

 

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Why do I feel like crying
When his arms would rush to comfort me?
When his heart beats alone for me,
Still, 
Despite his love,
Alone against myself.
If he surrounds me,
I am still caged within myself.
Then he catches my mind's gaze,
Says "Look, There is beauty."
And all is still again.
And all is peace again.
The lulled hush of the midnight heavens,
And the beauty of a star,
Takes me...

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I was better off feeling dead
Than feeling alive.
I was better off feeling low
Than on this false height.

I was better afraid of the dark
Than afraid to open my eyes.
I was better afraid of cutting myself
Than scared to survive.

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These bloodless wounds will never heal.
Pray,
         "Father Time, save me."

I grow so weak as the not-blood spills.
Pray,
         "Mother Nature, cure me."

Brother wind,
Sister rain,
Rock me. Wash me. Make me clean again.

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I don't suppose you'll cry to lose
A broken heart.
There's certainly no use in tears
On spilt milk.
But teddy bears are often loved
The more for being old and used,
And holes give special comfort to
Those shoes unfit to walk in.

Dream on,
Why not accept the truth?
Even apples are despised and scorned
Once bruised.

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You beckon to me.
Uncertain, and vaguely guilty.
And how you "know how I feel - but",
I can feel the urgency grip you.
And how we "don't have to if...",
I can feel the expectation.

You touch me,
Too gently,
I can feel the inexperience.

Do you expect me
Suddenly to tell you
If you can.
Or suddenly to let you
If you can't.

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We fight to first blood
But he has no weakness,
It will surely be me who loses.
One way, or another,
It will surely be me who bleeds or bruises.
There can be no lenience
Between me and my lover.

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I am a finger puppet.
He plays me in a mime.

Upon a sheeted stage we lie,
(about all kinds of things).

A marionette,
If words tug strings.

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A gap in the storm:

After the unrequited love, there were a couple of fledgling relationships in the summer before university. Whatever I may have felt during those relationships, there are no poems from them.
As much as I may have wanted to write 'a cheerful poem', cheerful poems were not my forte then.

The relationship I was in before heading off to university may have been sweet and deve...

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And are you he?
No shadow softened sun
Could ever cause this fire in my heart
Alone,
Nor too, the lingering ember in the grate.
Oh, it is not the culprit that I seek - 
That seeks me too.
Oh, tell me, is it you?

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We are both naive young fools.
You do not see
What is in front of your face,
And I do not hear
What is behind my own.
We are both amateur players,
In a game with no rules.
You missed your sights,
But you shot me through,
And now
I am blinded by you.

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It should not be a sad thing,
                            To be a friend.
But I cry at night, on an empty pillow.
And every day I dream about you,
And see your face, in shadows.

It should not be a bad thing,
                            To be a friend.
But every night I dream about you.
And in the day, I cry without you,
And give myself to sorrow.

        It should not be so maddening
...

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I want to write a cheerful poem.
I want to sing a song of joy.
And clap my hands,
And throw my caution to the wind,
Not this misery, I.
This drivel,
                  without end.

I'd wear a dress of red and gold.
All laced up,
All softly flowing.
I want to joke, and laugh, and talk,
And brave this storm.
Not go in black,
Not me, this wreck;
This back-wind
                        ...

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Can't get you out of my mind.
Can't halt your stay in my mind.
Can't halt my mind.
Can't hold my breath.
Can't hug death.

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Time to visit my 17 year old self, for the next sub-theme in Love's Tempest of 'Unrequited Love'.
With low self-esteem and low social confidence it was kind of inevitable.
But that's not the only way this particular storm can brew.

This first poem in the sub-theme, 'Reckless Abandon' is presented in two forms.
In its original version, and as a shaped poem.

 

The original version 

...

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To celebrate that I have completed posting the sequence of almost a hundred meditations (thanks to everyone for all likes and comments on those), and also in honour of it being World Poetry Day today (thanks to Dean Fraser for the reminder) - I thought I'd post this little something.... 

 

I've got a poem that gets stuck in your head
stuck in your head, stuck in your head
I've got a poem t...

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If where you are is terrible
Only think of where you want to be
If what surrounds you is awful
Only think of what you want to see

If emotions are painful
Only think of what you want to feel
It is OK to step into fantasy
And make it real.

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Alphabet soup was too expensive
Instead, I have spent my life
Making poetry
Out of ordinary spaghetti
 

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I once was as the limber branch
but now become the torpid trunk.
I sparkled under summer suns,
but now in dusky shadows hide.

Spring leaf has turned an autumn hue
The autumn scene borne frosted ice.
As winter grips in burning cold,
Comes next the springtime of the soul.

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Happiness is victory
Though I won't win every battle
I will win the war.

 

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Fear cannot hold where it is shrugged off
With my smile I am ready for life’s hardships
Other things may come and go
But my smile remains
 

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Whatever my body, my soul is beautiful
Whatever my wealth, my soul is rich
Whatever the chaos, my soul is tranquil

Whatever the burden, my soul supports me
Whatever I lose, my soul will stay
 

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The person that I want to be
dies every day.
I never know exactly when, or how.
Sometimes it is sudden,
Sometimes lingering,
I often struggle, I often cling,
Sometimes, fatalistically, I just give in
But the person I want to be dies every day
Sometimes many times.
 

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Sleepless night, cold thoughts, 
with the hidden warm spots. 

Novel plans, scared mind, 
with the tight positive bind.

 Large world, little we, 
with the strong belief tree.
                 And
Inside us, heart and mind are having terror play, 
Where heart always scored high, With the point
''Everything Is Okay''. 
                             -Prachi

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The roads where we walk, the houses and cars
Are hiding this planet
We forget who we are.

The shops and possessions, our jobs and our greed
Are hiding our purpose
We forget what we need

It all happens so quickly, there’s no time to think
But where are we rushing
At such a great speed?
 

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Still practicing life
Determined. Will get it right
Given enough time.
 

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Sometimes the safest questions to ask ourselves 
are about other times, other places, and other people. 
It is so much more pleasant to guess what might have been, 
how things might have felt, what people might have wished for,
and what might have lain ahead along unspotlighted
corridors of time.
Rather than dwell where we are, with ourselves,
Feeling far less happy to not know the answers.

...

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The winds of chance blow harsh
The sands of time run fast
Caress it whilst you can
While life is in your grasp.
 

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Now that all my dreams are gone
There's nothing to do 
but carry on?
Dreams are as necessary to the mind
as blood is to the heart.
And what do we do if we are short of blood?
Surely I need a transfusion of dreams!

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There is no winning or losing possible
Only what we let go of and what we keep,
Because we don't know the final outcome
Or the purpose of anything.

And positivity and negativity are as good as each other
When nothing much matters,
So it all comes down to not what we want to be or have
But what we want to feel.
 

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I am the real deal, and so are you.
But what is the real deal?

Is it all of the cards we're given
Or the purpose of absolutely everything?
Or is it the sum of both?

We are the real deal
And we are finding out what that is.
 

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Below these clouds I wonder when I'm going to see the sun again.
I heard a rumour it might not be there... anymore.
But come the rain, and come the wind...
Come storm, come thunder, come lightning...
Come every single shoddy thing the world can throw…
They'll find me no downtrodden sod,
No trembling leaf, no breaking clod,
For I, and the wandering sun, do not so quickly pass. 
 

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I am everything in my children's lives;
There is scarce little that they have
That doesn't come direct from me.
And sometimes this makes me proud
That I could be enough,
But more often not:
The first and usual thing I think
Is how I have let them down,
That I am all they have got.

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Somewhere in your mind are all the strengths you seek
But say not into your mind 'Do I have strength?'
For only the laughing strength will answer 'Yes'
And only the teasing strength will answer 'No'
And all others will be silent, or will stay asleep.

Somewhere in your mind are all the strengths you need
Not always in the moment you expect.
But in the moment that matters.

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Stay with me, I beg you
You’re all that I have left
My safest place
Greatly, I fear
That the more I think of you
The more you will fade from me
Like others that I could not keep 
You are all the spirit I have within me
My intangible dream
Without you
I would know nothing of hope
But
If the light you give 
Should be smothered into smoke
I would not fight the dark
Rather,
I would hav...

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today I saw the sun
for the first time in 
a long time
a cheerful ray brushed itself
against my cheek and
under my chin
as if to lift my head for my eyes to see 
the world lit up
and for the first time in a long time
it made me smile

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