These are just fragments of my life and thoughts. I love to write non-fiction essays, poetry and prose. My work is based on contemporary literature. I'm especially interested in young adult fiction as the undertones, innuendos, and profound concepts can be conveyed in simple language.
The meat I've gained is more of me to love now. I'm the wildflower that has just blossomed, the butterfly with wings wide open, the full moon that illuminates the darkest skies, the aged wine that you sip slowly, the deeply rooted tree that has taken years to provide you shade. Come love me, all of me.
She was intimidated by him but he also made her heart flutter every time he caught her looking at him. She fell for his courage and sincerity, and even if the world didn't believe him, she wanted him, she loved him for what he was, and that was all there was to it.
Have You Prayed
Dear Love, Is there a way to hide my intentions from God? To pray for you and not want you in return, when I know she makes you happy. 1. I pray your health never comes in your way. 2.I pray you're successful, but never alone when you reach that pinnacle. 3. I pray you're content,but never complacent to aim higher. 4. I pray you never get tired of rediscovering beauty in simplicity and not complicate the simple. 5. I pray you never suffer, but if you do, you emerge as the strongest soul. 6. Most of all, I pray you've found love and she prays for you more than I do. Love, Afshan Afshan Amin Mohammad
وَخَلَقْنَاكُمْ اَزْوَاجًا "And we created you in pairs" [Quran, 78:8] If there was a compass that could point out the route to your heart, I'd be an unwelcomed guest. For I know, lovers' path is not orchestrated, it is a divine coincidence. So I've left all those superficial means of reaching out to you. This free will of waiting must also be destined. Blossoming alone with patience, full of unanswered prayers, waiting for our paths to intersect. --Afshan Amin Mohammad
If this mirror could reflect the deep-seated scars in our withered souls, we’d understand why do these emotions always manifest in tears, whether we cry or laugh the hardest. -- Afshan Amin Mohammad
The Other Side
Walking down the street, my hand in my pocket. It's better this way, alone. Unlike the half hearted hand-holding you offered. A simpleton could reason, this was not love’s path. Yet I walked on with conviction, and you doubted my motives. Each time our hands clasped together, they drifted apart in the midst of c r o s s i n g the road. I would wave you on the other side. Go on, this time I have decided to stay back.
Today, he taught me the science behind why love is a verb. This was without haste, This was without inhibitions. This was tender, like a healer's hand. This was a need for my survival. A practice test, a viva, a demonstration of the dissection, a prerequisite for labelling the diagram. He handed me the flower, looking straight into my eyes. It used to be a bud, that blossomed into a prunus persica, peachtree flower. Its nectar, so sweet. I felt the petals, with my fingertips, a gentle rub, caressing its softness against my cheek. This is the stamen, the pollen sac. These are the masculine features of the flower. To distract him from the lesson, I began to peel the petals: “He loves me, He loves me, knot.” He quickly pinpointed, That is you. This is the ovary, the most treasured part, that bears the fruit. How the garden outside the window, turned the barren land into fertile soil. Just us two are enough. Within us, the philosophy of botany. Try the peach, Sink your teeth into the flesh, now suck the nectar. I gazed at the wonder of how simple the act is and yet amazed at the signs for those who contemplate.
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
- 2022 (11)
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