When you speak I hear a song
That is ointment to my soul.
What will happen
If I hear you pray?
Tag: Poems
Each Other’s
It knocked on the door of my solitude
And shacked the frame of its temple.
Id always thought I would rejoice
But oh to be someone so simple!
I never learned the loneliness
Of two that met each other.
Of how languages and eyes
Could never meet each other’s.
My City
I want to paint a city
with letters and words…
Lift it up
with .’s and !’s
Slip away with me
Between the words
Into an alley
Of memory
Where the soul paints
On crumbling cinder
with ideas and where
We find a silence different
From that of .’s and !’s
For what is left…
You will never be blinded, for you see through the eyes of my faith.
You will never feel lost, for you walk through the gardens of my wonder.
You will never know cold, for you wear the garments of my soul.
You will never meet thirst, for you have the pools within my eyes.
You will never lose breath, for you are carried in the winds of my spirit.
You will never speak with pain, for you live within the temple of my prayer.
You will never aqcuaint hunger, for you dine on the essence of my dreams.
And you will never be alone… if you can settle for what is left.
After a prayer for my love
I saw two birds perched on a tree’s thin branches,
Swaying, gently, in the winds enchantments.
It was after a prayer for my love…
Again, after a prayer for my love.
I saw two shadows wavering about
And then, one…and of only one I thought.
At a still dawn
Our earth awakes to a call.
From within itself a voice
Lays truth, an amber spell.
She pulls across her body
The sunlight shawl of morning,
Across amber fields of barley,
The swell of dew filled dreaming .
Two golden seas mix, this instant,
And truths blend,indifferent;
For what is taken… is uplifted.
Let the leaves of the olive tree,
Let a past’s youthful brew.
Let me hear their silence be
A prayer she listens to.
I dont usually ask for input, but I’d love to hear your reactions to this one if you may :).
~Love and Peace
Abid
Come
And come to me truth,
Even as the sweetest sorrow,
That a morning
May be free tomorrow.
A stanza for thought.
That Night Be
But had I many nights serene
When with me in midnight’s walk,
Only that on which I lean
Was my standing thought.
Had I many nights to see,
Surely one would that night be.
Bluebird
A little bluebird came by sound
And why it was I did not know,
But after time, talk, looking around…
I thought I thought it through.
I did not know it, but this house
Was the sort with birds about.
So it goes,that this bird throws
This thinker for a think about.
I’ve been recently interested in writing children’s poetry, so a couple days ago I was unusually in the mood to writing something happy, and this happened.
A Window sort of Frame
One day I sat in a wooden frame
That I found in the attic,
And as I thought all stills the same,
I set out to frame some music.
And what trouble did it seem,
To make this fancy true,
That I didn’t think of a likely thing
And think of a window!
So I took a hammer and the frame
And thought of every sound
That never could be heard in dream,
But could be by a window found!
I dedicate this poem to siti (my grandmother) who spends long hours by a window reading the Quran, or watching us children play. I love her greater than life.
ahorsealone 
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