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.
Hello. I too enjoy it when it rains. It tends to be such a reflective time where we tend to be more forgiving & allow ourselves to breath a bit more. Not as rushed as at other times. Anyway, a couple of things about what you wrote. “There is a passion for action but there isn’t anything that I have to support that passion.” I disagree. You have a great passion & talent for writing. A great way with words, that’s for sure. I think it’s good that you define things differently from the rest of the world. The world tends to be too cliche & cookie cutter. You want to be your own individuality. Pushing the envelope is always refreshing. Who says that crossing the line between insanity & normailty is a bad thing?
Enjoy.
The rain is a wonderful thing to soothe a tattered soul in a days breathing. Enjoy it my friend.
As to your words “Featherless Wings”… it was a wonderful read. Your sentence structure has a flow that is needed to progress through the sense of hope finding flight within a moment of reflection and memories wings touching a needing place.
This was uplifting… but realistic…. I have missed your words my friends. Hopefully life will allow me a bit more time to stay caught up soon.
Take care of you, thanks for the visit and the insight and suggestions…and always… I send my love and support.
SA
i love the rain…it rains here (portland, oregon) all the time. and i agree with you on the inner peace thing….but i dont think anyone ever gets out of the shit there in to get to tht kind of nirvana. life is crazy.
yours truly,
sundes
Hi Honey, I welcome any an all comments. Criticism is helpful and I need that as Iam still learning as a writer. I was trying something a little different today and am glad for your input. Thank you!!! (((((hugs)))))
I love your respect for the rain. The smell, sound, touch, sight of it. I always adore the rain. It brings out the warmth in me. “There is a passion for action but there isn’t anything that I have to support that passion”….how I feel exactly. I appreciate the last four lines of this poem. I always appreciate your writing. Thank you for your comments of late. …Love… was written primarily about love among young folks and how love has lost its meaning. But I find that poem to be so close to me and I feel strongly for it and inside of it. Thank you for your comment. They always take me to another place.
i want to fly.
why shut your self up?
its a waste of perfectly beautiful ideas on the tip of your tongue
that i darn well want to hear.
I love the rain, nice poem
Bright Blessings
I just wanna grab you and give you a big ole hug!!!!