If dreaming about you is so intense,
what would be to meet you?
To talk to you would be heavenly,
to hear you speak-fatality;
to see you, in person-syncope;
to feel you, touch you-dyspnea!
If dreaming about you is so intense,
Never do, never do.
Admit not, whatever you do.
Being wrong is a sin,
in this world of righteousness.
Pretend, my friend, always pretend.
For if you do, admit to one wrong,
they will put all your rights in that box.
They will say you’re wrong in all,
when you were right in being strong-
strong even in admitting your folly.
But what shall one sad soul like me do,
I cannot say, “I was right” when I was not.
I cannot say, “I was wrong” when I was not.
So, I suppose, I shall remain forever so,
wrong in being right
and right in being wrong.
When you were a million miles away,
you were closer than ever.
Now that you are so close,
you’re further than a million miles yonder.
My love for you is
But, you are there,
burning in my heart,
and nothing can be
She was the bright sunshine,
in the lives of many sad souls.
But she was neither yours nor mine;
she belonged to a facade of control.
Her beauty was in her words,
but eloquence evaded her tongue.
Her smiles were like painted birds-
always flying; never perched, never sung.
Existing only at the center,
she fades around the edges,
which, to non-existence, tether.
Among people she builds bridges.
Inside her own, she is destruction abound;
inside her soul, nothing but self hate is found.
Given the time,
the right circumstances
and the right amount of insanity,
any man can love any woman,
and any woman can fall for any man.
So to love was never unique.
It was always an illusion of something
that should be.
is a mirror.
I asketh thou
to utter ‘be’.
A/n: Micropoetry all week. No illustrations / pictures / images this week… 😛 Enjoy! 😀
Thou art my grandest love,
for I love thee with mine self
without knowing thee,
without seeing thee.
Your love for me is grander,
for you love me-
a lowly ant of no consequence-
whilst you have so much to love
and so many to care for.
A/n: Today’s inspiration came from the song “Aik Alif” by Noori feat. Saieen Zahoor. The song is based on the work of the great sufi poet of the sub-continent, Baba Bulleh Shah. Here is a link to the song, if you want to check it out: https://tune.pk/video/61725/Aik-Alif-Noori-Saieen-Zahoor-Coke-Studio-Season-2. The translation is available here: http://www.koolmuzone.pk/forum/music-infonews/bulleh-shah-aik-alif-(lyrics-translation-history)/. 🙂
The poetry is beyond anything I can achieve, but it does inspire you to write now and then… If it inspires you to writing something, or if any song inspired you to write something, do share with me through the comments below. I promise to read! 🙂
A spark of electricity,
a shadow formidable;
you are insanity personified,
an epitome of coherence.
You are a sin most sinful,
you are a blessing most sweet!
Every imperfection is perfect,
and every edge, amiable.
A/n: This week it’s all about music, folks. 😀
Today, I have gained inspiration from “All of Me” by John Legend, especially by the lines: “You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind” and “You’re my downfall, you’re my muse”.
Go check out that beautiful song and I hope you enjoy my little poem too! 😀
Don’t forget, if that song inspires you to write something too, share it with me through a link in the comments and I promise to read! 😀
Disclaimer: The image was retrieved from http://angelicophelia.deviantart.com/art/Wilted-Rose-19777878
The dark red Henna on her hands:
a symbol of beauty, a promise of change.
All dressed up for a new day,
a new year, a whole new life;
she knew not what it meant.
There was laughter and giggles in the air.
Drums were beating, music aloud,
rose petals were thrown as kinship renewed.
She sat there with her fingers crossed,
wondering of what surprises life brought.
She knew not life’s purpose,
she knew not her future.
She just relished in the joy of one day’s fame,
as she sat there on the stage,
a heroine, but only for the day.
A/n: The photograph inspiring this post belongs to midnight studios and was viewed on http://www.mehndiequalshenna.com/wedding-henna-414/
She was Time’s mistress.
Time- her soul’s companion.
For long, she did what Time dictated,
and Time was kind to her.
She flourished and blossomed,
attracting Envy- her lover.
But Time changed and
became wary of her.
It demanded she retire:
let her hair gray and
let her beauty wane.
She refused, holding tight
onto fabric of Time’s past.
Like a lover anguished,
she abandoned all,
clutching to what once was
and was no more.
Time pitied her
as a foolish foe.
It let her stay,
it let her fray.
A/n: This turned out a little longer than I thought it would. Oh well, the picture was just too beautiful to ignore. I viewed it at
—> http://bcr8tive.com/category/photography/models/. Go check it out but beware, they have a strict copyright policy. Remember, if it inspires you to write something, please do share your work with me in the comments below! I promise to read and leave a response. 😉 😀
Burning her was easy for him:
He blew heartlessly,
she combusted instantly,
her ashes flew
as the air turned smoky
with her remnants.
There was a knock on the door.
She woke up with a start to hear the distant sound of an owl hooting.
She looked at the clock on her bedroom wall: the hour hand was cautiously approaching the number 1, as if scared of what might conspire if it touched it.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
‘Who could it be?’ she whispered to herself. She threw her duvet away from her body, got up with a jerk and yanked her dressing gown from the chair beside her bed. Her heart paced fast as she approached the front door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
‘Who could it be? Who could it be?’ She tried to catch a glimpse of her late night visitor through the peek hole only to view the empty hallway outside her apartment. She was relieved and perplexed at the same time.
‘Maybe they left?’
She was just about to look away when there was another knock on her door.
‘But…’ Her blood chilled in her veins. ‘How…’ There was no one in the hallway, then how?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Tears sprung into her eyes and she wanted to run back into the warmth of her bed. But something was holding her back. It was as if her feet were glued to the floor and she couldn’t move. Her hand was not her hand as it moved steadily to open the door. As the door swung open, she caught sight of a black shadow swooping into her apartment.
The vision of a man standing in the middle of living room enveloped her as she heard the door bang shut. There was music in the distance- a sort of humming in the background as she stared at the being in front of her eyes.
She knew he was Death the moment she laid eyes on him.
His face was clear yet indiscernible and his presence was undeniable except at the edges. He seemed suspended in time, as if he existed in every moment, in the past, in the present and in the future unknown. Yet, he was nowhere. He was nothing. He was her long lost friend. He was a foe formidable. He was everywhere. He was everything.
The music in the distance grew louder, a strong beat drummed through her body as he held her in his arms. It was strange dancing with Death. There was a thrill in the way he twirled her around. Her whole body lit up in his arms, yet the flame of her existence began to extinguish. He smirked at her loss of control and her body began to shut down-bit by bit.
The music consumed her as she began to fall through the abyss. Light turned into darkness and the din of life turned into the silence of death.
The clock struck one as her soul left the hubbub of the world.
Disclaimer: The image was retrieved from: http://earthlymartian.blogspot.com/2010/07/beautiful-death.html
A/n: Okay, so ladies and gentleman, I am going to get a little more organized. 😉 If my muse permits, I will be posting short stories every Sunday/Monday, a poem every Saturday and micropoetry throughout the week! So stay tuned folks. A lot more to come your way.
Have a great week ahead! 😀
“What is reality?” they asked.
“Anything that doesn’t last,” I replied.
A/n: The image is titled, “Escape from Reality” by Norman Deunas.
Swag and tall hopes,
cars and long shot dreams,
delusions and elusive hope
do not pay the bills…