Month: August 2005

Hi All,
  I apologize for using the word shutdown in my previous post. Iwill not close down this site. But considering the little amount oftime I have. I will not be updating this site often. I will be updatingmy site LonelyPoet.Orgeveryday. I know some of you will sure miss my comments. I don’t thinkI can do a lot about the comments as I won’t be having too much time tocomment on others works.

Love.
The Signature Of A True Human Is The Smile He/She Brings On The Face Of Others.
LonelyPoet. 

I think people are all busy, many kids
preparing to go back to school many others busy saying bye to their
summer love and a lot of others still perplexed before some lost
opportunities. I am seeing summer and all its ingredients for a long
time now. I myself have gone through it many times. Even
though I hate the summer heat, I love the arrival of fall and bright
days hesitating to give way to those dark days to come. In those days
I take a walk and there is a spiritual nurturing to my soul in those
walks and every time I walk like that I know I will end up with some
piece of verse that makes me feel real good for sometime. I usually
give that piece of verse some time so that it can mature in my mind.
But today I thought those people who comes out of their busy lives to
visit this site may need this.

Well said that, there
isn’t much people visiting my site these days. Hate me for this, I am
seriously thinking of shutting this down and concentrate more on my
poems and my own network of sites. I may miss a lot of you, but there
is a time to move on. I don’t know when that time will reach my door
step.

Here is the poem.

The Chance.

The summer wind blown up the dead dust,
And so on went up a tale untold,
Through the digital magnificence,
I saw a face so close but yet so far
away.

The ways are all closed I thought,
No more dreams I can weave,
As entangled I felt in the unfulfilled
ones,
Not anymore I can drag my heart,
And back trace the passions deep inside
so fragile,
When in the depths of thoughts bury
Dreams in a lifetime weaved,
As I may see you go holding another
hand.

But as the dust settles and heat bids
farewell,

When earth turns away into another
side,
There is a cool breeze brewing,
To blow up the dead leaves falling.
In those leaves some days rested,
My dreams I thought will remain green,
Everlastingly through many seasons to
come,
But no well said verse may describe,
A feeling I wish I could repeal.

Alas, the seasons have changed,

So the clarity of the reality,
That face will remain in memory
evergreen,

So I will feel what felt
every time I walk,
In a summer evening
bidding farewell,
To the singing birds and
welcomes,
The fall of life all
around nature,
The cold breeze reached
the top of the trees,
And the howls sounds like
a prayer,
Of nature to nurture the
beauty,
Through fall and the
freezing to come.

Will I ever get another
chance to dance,
In the April rain and
whistle,
On a bright summer night?

I will not get another
chance I am sure,
As forever I will remain
in this chance I’ve got,
As the warmth of the
memory of these days,
And the light left in my
heart of my love for her,
Will always keep the
freshness of spring,
Even when everything dies
and freezes over.

It is raining outside, I love the sound of it, smell of it, sight
of it and touch of it. There is a lot going on inside of me but little
outside of me. There is a passion for action but there isn’t anything
that I have to support that passion. There is a world out there that
defines everything differently than me. Or am I really passing that
thin line here? The thin line between insanity and the normal. One
thing is understood, normal is defined by a set of fools who never
thought how life can get complicated in this era.

What do I do for fun? A set
of things which includes writings, talking, dreaming and a lot of
sleeping. Well I think I’ve had a lot more free time when I was working.

Here is a poem I wrote
while sitting in the flight from Milan, Italy to New Delhi. I wrote
kinda a first draft of this poem at that time but did not reached
anywhere. I added some more in Kochi, where my mother lives. Just two
three weeks back I broke that poem into two. This is the latter part.
The first seven lines which I added last week was very real.

Featherless Wings.

The bad ways that led me in paths unwanted,
At a dead end left alone,
Nowhere to go, not a step ahead possible,
And the ways passed all puzzled in time passed,
 North, south, east and west don’t meet anymore,
Horizons left astray colorless,
Every moment deep in the womb of time died away.
Every prayer, every good ever existed,
Passed through mind to gather oneself,
As deep in the heart once lived the feeling,
Of love for that soul unknown,
Came back with a tempest,
That took me away in flight,
I flew with birds of colors,
Who all sang about the pastures destined,
Wordless in the awe,
So pleasant and in the flight so focused,
Whistled a tune that came to my mind,
My hands guiding the mind through thick snowy clouds,
And upon the hand came and rested a bird,
She sang into my ears,
A song that counter-points my tune,
“I flew to the north,
I flew to the south,
I went east and west until tired,
I heard the pride of the birds,
In the beating of the wings,
I have seen the beauty of minds,
In the respect for each other,
But none came together anymore,
As lifeless became every creation,
Until this tempest came,
With a passion took us in flight.
But the power of the feeling so great,
When I sat on the featherless wings,
And listened to the tune of yours,
I see the direction of your flight,
And feel the intensity of your will,
Can you hold me on your featherless wings,
Till you reach the destination of yours,
Where north, south, east and west will meet,
To celebrate the love of yours in her soul.”

 ©RIAZAHAMMED.COM.

My busy days are over, the
project I was working on was implemented successfully. Thank to the
great effort of a great team that worked hard. I am proud of being part
of those wonderful guys.

Last
four days went like the click of my hand. There is uncertainty looming
outside my door, but I am too lazy to walk out of door and shook hands
with that bad guy. You know what I mean. In a nutshell I was sleeping
most of the time. Now I think I am well relaxed. Because the following
is what came out of a deep rest. Enjoy this one. It came out of one of
my drive recordings.

About Life Around.

As if like a puzzle at life looking,
And wonder what made it so complex,
Everyone for everything in life competing,
When so simple was everything in its creation,
Oh’ God may be laughing at all the winners boasting,
And pathetic losers, who all fought for illusions on earth,
When in reality both will storm the worst cell of hell,
Which they created when complicated life with,
Laws, rules and unrealistic order,
That made simple life unlivable,
For themselves and in that frustration,
Made hell on earth for every soul of truth.

Oh’ the fighters who believed they are for truth,

But seen only the shadow of truth,
Who all walked through the path evil paved,
With an illusion that showed mind-boggling beauty around,
They all believed, fought and died in those illusions,
When what they should’ve sought,
Was the simple truth that lies in the compassion for others.

Oh’ the very truth I’ve learned from the history of mankind is,

Actions with no faith is like a bubble in the wave,
It just crashes on the rock of truth,
Faith alone will leave one isolated from reality,
But the union of both with compassion and unselfishness,
Will untie the unknown meanings of life sought by those who fought.

I may elaborate on some part of it. But tell me what you all think?

Busy days are
blasting into my life. The best part of it all is I still have a job.
How long it will go? Who cares! As long as the money is coming I don’t
mind doing this job. What is next? God never told anyone to ask that
question to even lifeless things. So I don’t ask that question either.

   I
miss commenting on many sites and I am really sorry about that. I will
do that as time permits. Other than posting a book in my lonelypoet.org
site and commenting on a poem posted there by ShadyLane I did not do
anything poetically. I think I am going through a sluggish time in
reading and writing. That is what this job(computer programming) will
do to a poet. Keep him grounded without allowing anything. But I have
found a way around I have a digital recorder. I get most of my ideas
when I drive. So I always keeping my recorder on while driving and
whenever I get an idea I just record it by saying it aloud. There are a
lot of them now. I will get back to it all and write it “as time
permits”. Said that I remember one of my ex-girlfriend Valentina  who
wanted me to recite my poems, recording my works recited by me. It is
horrible to listen to my froggy voice with the worst possible accents.
Somehow she found some enjoyment in that.

 I
am not happy or sad so I think I need to get really angry. The best way
to do it, listen to my own voice. That’s what I am going to do. Pull
out those recordings and listen to it.

  Xangans
here is another poem I wrote a long time back. I am also posting the
original comment I left on top of the poem when I first posted this
poem in LonelyPoet.Com.

 I
went for a walk in the gloomy evening, all through the walk some
feelings were making me pleasant. It might be the thought of my sweet
heart, that’s the only thing that will make me happy now a days, but
when I came back home I was feeling very thirsty but I don’t drink even
a glass of water for about an hour after my evening walks, but the
thoughts about the love of my sweet heart for me, filled my heart, soul
and all my nerves and my thirst had faded away. These lines of verse
came out of me during those hours of thoughts. This poem was written
not in a day but took three weeks to finish.

 Stranger

Upon the hill I see,
A vanishing shadow of my dreams,
So far, so high they show up,
And fade away like mirages,
But through the golden light of dusk,
I saw a tall lean figure,
Thought it was just another dream,
Left my thoughts, left my hopes,
Back to my sleep went I,
But expectations brought them back,
From my dreams, from my sleep, woke up I,
My big-ben clock reminds me about noon,
But through the window I still can see,
The golden light still upon the hill,
And the figure near the well,
Woke up now is my soliloquy,
Just murmured into my soul,
‘Upon the hill you see the light of her love,
Near the well you see herself,
Waiting for you to be there to kill your thirst,
Not with the water from the well,
But with her love from her soul’.

 
©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. This poem was released in LonelyPoet.Com in early spring of 1999.