Isam Hussain Poems

The servant aspired to be like his master,
he sought to please and serve him better
hoping he would one day barter
his service for the status of his master.
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Oh, how time plays tricks on a sorrowful heart
And how it appears to save then casts adrift
And how it magnifies a straw into a saving raft
And how it turns a ray of hope into a golden sun
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Emotions, like a yo-yo,
swing high and low,
tears ebb and flow,
brief flashes of joy
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The earth shakes, hearts miss a beat,
walls sway, doors and windows rattle.
People run outdoors, gather in the street.
A mother runs towards the village school.
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We used to meet them in pubs,
spend time with them over a drink,
play a game of dominos or darts,
engage in serious and idle talk.
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Love loves to love love;
beware of this kind of love:
narcissistic, overtly possessive
self-centred, strongly addictive.
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Time is a stream of moments ethereal,
invisible, intangible, yet very familiar,
its meaning is elusive, mercurial,
Time, indeed, is most peculiar.
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The Ship of Life sails upon the sea of Time,
courting the fair wind, battling the storm.
I chart its course, guide its wheel,
but there is an Other, I feel,
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Autumn, wearing laurel for a crown,
clothed in leaves of gold and brown,
stands head bowed before his victor;
awaits the judgement of King Winter.
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We didn't expect him to make such an appearance,
believing Global Warming had banished his presence.
But he came marching in with a vengeance,
confounding our knowledge and intelligence.
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