Rhythms Of An Unchoreographed Dance.

I am still sick actually not a lot more sick but I am sick. Coughing at steady intervals. Medicines have made my body very toxic that’s what I can say. So I am staying away from everyone sitting in the basement. I hope everyone survived the arctic blast. Woo that was cold but you know what, even though it makes me sick, I love the cold, freeze, snow and Ice any day. What else is going on? Mmm Obama received the Nobel peace prize pssst and justified wars. Daang he is one lucky guy who is fighting war on one side and receiving peace prize on the other. Anyway no other news really touched me than that. Actually it made me laugh. The world was way better when I was a kid at least spiritually.

   Well, you all might’ve seen the video I posted along with the last poem. I can add just this. I am not a person who takes my way upon others, there is a way each and every person live, believes and achieves. It differs from person to person. One person’s treasure is another’s trash that doesn’t mean all are trash. I don’t thrust my ideas upon others just because I think for me it is right, it may be wrong for another person. So people should understand we are in many ways a collection of more than 6 billion islands connected by the care and love we give each other. It is those connections that makes life peaceful and more wonderful. Some people from totally different backgrounds, age and even geographical distances connect together in this age of information highway. Once connected even though people may not see, hear or communicate each other just don’t lose the connection between themselves. It will be there beyond, past, present and future which is defined by time. In the spiritual world, there is no time factor. Well, that’s just my way. Tell me about your way of dealing with things from past, in present, thinking about future.

       Here is a poem I wrote as a first draft a while back and now gave a different context. The word Unchoreographed is not a perfect word as one may not find it in any dictionary. But it conveys the meaning in my mind. The idea of the poem is simple. It takes two to tango hehe. See, a connection happens between two people. It is up to those two to decide where to take it. Sometime one will fail to understand or some people go through delusions of just not accepting the fact that there is a feeling of care for another person. They try everything to just get rid of the feeling, justify with every means why they don’t care. Each time, they will only underline the care and love for another person. At times that reality makes both very, very sad. These are the thoughts that came to my mind when I wrote this poem. The whole idea is not depicted in the poem as is. But you all will know what is implied when you finish reading this poem.

Rhythms Of An Unchoreographed Dance.

Step by step the dancer moved,
The rhythm from music in mind heard gathered,
Picturing next steps standing on the present,
Not knowing anything about the next steps,
As all that is real is the past and the new born moment.

The mysterious illusions so tempting to follow,
The tender naked feet so fast lay,
Dragging thoughts way deep in the past erupted.
All those thoughts under those well laid steps buried.

Past is the history, the well laid foundation,
Future is the illusion the hunter in everyone hunts,
And present is where past can bring us,
And the bows well stretched to fire the feelings to morrows.
 
Though so wonderful to watch the dancer’s dance,
Taking rhythm from heart in spontaneity births,
For the odd laid steps a rhythm in another heart births,
For which no tune the dancer heard.

Every step of the dance piece of the jigsaw puzzle,
Every piece placed in the order it meant to be,
The puzzle when finished should always look,
In the past when the puzzle was drawn,
And step by step of a dance from a dynamic mind,
Portrayed the face of a lover the dancer never expected to see.

Oh listen to your own heart beat,
The whistling tunes gather the dusts of past,
From which colors of all kinds in love brewed,
And a jigsaw puzzle through fate of life made,
The finished jigsaw puzzle is meant to be in your heart,
Reality of all this is a dance none choreographed,
The rhythm of that dance can be heard,
Only when counterpoints of two heart beats are heard.

Here is the BlogTV presentation of the Poem.
Rhythms Of A Dance Broadcast your self LIVE

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved

The Girl In A Poet’s Soul.

I am really very sick, my sinus literally started bleeding after sneezing so much. I’ve heard from many of my friends they are all sick too. Oooh what is going on around? This is not flu it just makes you sneeze forever blasting your brains off.

  I thought of doing all day and night shows on blogtv this weekend. But blah blah blah ouchooo still sneezing. I may do a show briefly to record the poem I am posting below. I hope you guys like this poem. It was written to get a thought out of my mind. Then I ended up in a fantasy world hehe hope you all will get the idea behind this poem. It is really simple… when one dreams so hard eventually one will lose the reality altogether. I once faced such a situation that was the starting point. But what if the dream is a comfort place from where one never want to leave? That thought brought the rest of the poem. Feel free to comment on this one.

  There is something I wanted to do and I ended up saying.. I don’t know if this is right or wrong. If wrong please forgive me. I should have never put myself in that situation. There is one person sad about it all, unfortunately the one single, lonely person is me. There are a bunch of lines removed from this poem after I finished it. That’s another unfortunate, sad thing. Do you know that you want to say something and then you don’t know if whatever you may say will have an adverse effect???  mmm that’s where I am. I wrote in my Twitter Love is like water, it takes the shape, color and characteristics of the place where it is in. It can be a blessing or can become very destructive. I thought love indeed destroyed my life. Then I smiled and said…. Love indeed made me who I am. Thank you my darling who never loved me.


Have a great week ahead everyone.

The Girl In A Poet’s Soul.

Once upon a time when summer gave dreams,
A girl in a strange world I met,
Though unknown never a stranger she made me feel,
And a whistler I became and along my own tunes I danced.
 
In the tunes I played, wrote verses understood,
By that wonderful soul better than anyone else,
Every doubt about me the summer sun erased,
Though none seen or heard, whistling went on and I danced.
 
Oh’ many steps I danced and all were wrong,
Many tunes I whistled O wrong thoughts they invoked,
In a mind filled with verses of love and by passions twisted,
But in the love seen in those eyes O all my thoughts purified.
 
In the pure mind she made, myself I can never forgive,
From the mind in her care molded, her image I can never erase,
And from a soul only for her soul dedicated,
No more verses about another soul I can write and recite.
 
Darker and clueless days birthed became,
And dream filled sleep only portions of nights consumed,
Still smiles of blessings every time the sweetness of that soul gave,
And no more tears I can shed as its love for her from my eyes spread,

Days with chaos, life in limitless pains and loneliness may come,
Nights in little sleep, rest in meaningless thoughts I may spend,
Years ahead empty they never will be,
Decade after decade in the penance of loving her, this soul will survive.
 
Seeking forgiveness the poet concluded,
The whole nature in pause, long nightly hours stayed,
I can only say, the poet love like the flow of a river,
Steadily and slowly it consumed but still flown.

Love like the water took shape and color of all places passed,
Seeking the depths of ocean the river in gallops roared,
But the ocean the river in eagerness sought,
Oh’ an illusion erased without a trace.

Here is the BlogTV presentation of the poem with an introduction explaining this poem further.

The Girl In Poets Soul Broadcast your self LIVE
©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved

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The Lost Kite.

I love winter days. Last night the temperature came down to about 19F here where I live well it gave me a running nose which may eventually give me the flu. But isn’t that the fun of winter. Well what do you get when it is cold cold cold…. a poem written in thought of days of warmth.

The Lost Kite.

The sun from the depths of night crawled,
And sailed through the morning warming,
Lands, water and the bright lit gardens seen,
Smiling through the face of flowers and waving,
And the glory to yester nights lost sun regained.

Through the ridges of paddy fields walked,
With care not to fall among tadpoles,
Never really looked back ahead or up,
Just saw a face from above looking sharp,
Oh’ my own little face I remember.

My shoulders in the love of summer sun shined,
Then with old news papers and coconut leaf sticks made,
The kite only in imaginations seen,
A big kite with a long, long tail and pointed tips,
Like a creature in summer afternoon wind waved.

The summer wind to heights closer to white clouds took,
The kite flown so high like a dot far, far away moved,
Every stretch of string in the way I want, the kite moved,
Slicing sunlight and the blowing warm wind,
And through the edge of ridges in joy I ran.

Oh’ the joy made me blind and nothing I have seen,
And the fields don’t last forever and the ending I have not known,
From the edge into the pool of mud and water I fell,
Oh’ my joy just dissolved into mud with muddy face I looked,
Saw the kite waving bye, bye to me swaying head in disgust.

When in disappointments my hands and face I washed,
An image from far sight of life to my mind came,
A kite in the shape of heart I saw,
In all lost hopes and dreams with broken threads,
In winds unknown, too far and too high swaying and disappeared.

With eyes closed in the pond I sat,
Until nothing more in my minds eyes I saw,
When standing up and eyes I opened,
Darkness all around me and nature filled,
Instead of kites, material sight and sky with blinking stars filled.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved

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