He wrote a new poem today
Composed after hours
There in the middle-distance
Down the street half a block
...
Following one week
It was fairly fatigued, so It spoke:
'May there be one rotation of the globe
Devoted to meals out-of-doors, including fermented grapes and manna'
...
Hello to the words on the page! When we meet it is like pictures in the mind; it is like slipping behind a mask made of smoke and speaking in the voice of a stranger; it is transformative. Thank you words, I am flabbergasted, amused, and terrified. We are trapped
...
Slowly shaking her head,
Mouthing words,
She warned me away;
But I saw you
...
Last night I had a dream,
A garden party with Radish Moran,
In which I wore your dress.
At the end of the night
...
'Twas Christmas
And the lithe wee bells did gyre and jingle in the wabe
All nimbly were the stockings hung
While consulting astrolabe.
...
'Daddy, ' said the little man, 'are you 'fraid of Eateemores? '
'Of what, dear? '
'Of Eateemores.'
The little man had a serious, probing look in his amber eyes.
...
Behind the face, the skull within
The organ pulses.
Beyond the brain, the mind: a place
Without substance.
...
There is pride in endeavouring
To have no pride at all
A diabolic il-oba ida
Following a fall
...
Two eyes, afloat
Sloshing about on a bus
Buoyant on the tide of
Watery ooze -that is to say,
...
You say the pain is back
behind your face
between your ears?
Place one plump blueberry
...
Thirteen is a number
and this number thirteen
is a number that only goes into
thirteen
...
First, a singular spirit who
Comes to us now and then
Goes without saying
Goodbye
...
#pomes ar dum
excep teh juans i mek
sais all le franch
an tou les poemetieres
...
A lark for a pussy-cat, getting something for nothing
Siamese cats swimming Southward
Swallowing the small birds they seduce
Whose titterings seem
...
It is yet worth the effort
To put oneself forward in order
To put oneself in order. Be forward
Be playful, be brave.
...
How is the quantity of a feeling qualified with language? Does love come in bunches the way flowers may, and if so, is that passé? Maybe love flocks like sheep before sleep and dreaming, or heaps up in a chest that bursts open revealing its treasure. Anger might be a murder or a parliament of dark croaking throats with no physicality just burning and turning thought to ashy dust. there are probably myriad answers to one such question i like the word panoply poetry is the clothing for my invisibility)
Grassed
He wrote a new poem today
Composed after hours
There in the middle-distance
Down the street half a block
Then straight up half a mile:
In the diminishing place.
I arose on a green, reedy carpet
Adroning
And stole it away.
Strange but alluring poetry Have to slowly ingest it To see if it is really pleasing to me
People aren't commenting. There are plenty of fish in the sea. But, if they are not hungry, it is impossible to catch them.
Md शकील Ahmad