Category: New Poems

I like what I wrote. I’d love to make this a reality. Pray for me or wish me all of your luck in making this a reality..

The Tired Storyteller.

The ways of life so wonderfully planned,
And through fulfillment of dreams so well written
Life of many goes through discipline drawn,
By passionless freaks, ah’ interpreters of life.

A system of combinations,
Combinations of many permutations,
All well drawn angles and perfected equations.
Math only half-understood by a handful nerds.

No equations can solve the math in her mind,
No combinations can unfold the puzzle of who she is,
Ah’ in a whirlpool of silence with eyes shut she fell,
Then stretched a hand for help opposite to mine.

And throwing every wish of mine into that whirlpool,
My mind, my life and my dreams to new paths directed.
Never can I look back as even the prettiest girl’s shadow,
Will be dark even in the brightest sunny day.

A story ended, storyteller tired,
The new paths directed to a desolate desert,
Somewhere will be pretty mirages,
Somewhere will be a life stretching oasis.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2013.

Just Read!!

A Bitch.

Happy hour poured through bottles and took,
Many minds away from many pains of life,
Intoxication through veins raced
And the illogical subconscious spoke aloud.

Sitting at the bar and at all these drunks smiled,
Like an insane soul who don’t need no alcohol,
To be intoxicated to take mind away from world,
As life into me poured events that intoxicated me.

In the sudden rain that lashed all around,
With thunder and lighting in fury threatened,
Everyone out of all intoxication and think right,
Many then understood the good old monster, reality.

When walking out into the rain I smiled,
With a thought how wonderfully I eluded,
The pain and the pathetic artificiality,
Oh’ life is a bitch who gives me happy hour every hour.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2013.

 

This poem came out of a conversation with my brother. I told him about some weird dreams I have seen recently. They made no sense at all. At that time my brother said. Those dreams are just junk thoughts my mind want to get rid off. After that I thought is there any thought I can get rid off. Automatically I thought about a girl in my mind and I smiled and said the last but one line of this poem. Enjoy Sunday.

Writing A Dream.

Said to my mind about a beauty who conquered,
My soul and from my mind and life erased,
Every dream and every bit of life lived till that day,
And with a little smile my mind listened.

“Such is the tenderness of her beauty,
Love will be a perfect ornament upon her I can place,
And every smile of her added more ornaments,
And rich in my mind she became.”

Thoughts about that beauty became wonderful friends,
Who all sang me to sleep every night,
And woke me with their soft hands touching my eyes,
Ah’ they never said anything cross to me ever.

Words about that beauty every day line by line I wrote,
And kept under the pillow upon which I slept,
They all united in my subconscious as wonderful dreams,
Ah’ every known moments of my life I want, to be a blessing for her.

Last line I wrote knowing I just wrote the only dream in my life.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2013.

 

This poem can be treated as a stalker’s song. Well that’s what people get called as, when one side of love just falls away and the other stand perplexed. Nothing can be done at that point other than declaring the love one has, and what will the lover get? Minimum is getting called a stalker. I am not kidding I was called a stalker for writing poetry about love. Well I don’t care about what others think. I just write my poetry. You come, you read and you take whatever you want from it and live with it. That’s it.

My Will.

Foregone are the days of myths,
Where lovers loved like you and I,
Gladness in beat of our hearts danced,
And in the joy of each other we smiled.

Where have you hidden the smile of mine?
Oh’ failed in every search of mine,
To find the gladness with which you once blessed,
My every living moment with a whisper from far.

In what graveyard you buried the love you felt?
In which demon’s whisper your mind deviated?
Oh’ your heart become a devilish sepulcher,
Where purity of love forever buried.

When every heart that loves I see,
When every girl I met who spoke
About the love for their lover they have,
Oh’ still I wish it were you telling your love for me.

Never will I seek a graveyard to bury my love for you,
Never will I let demons whisper a word against you,
Oh’ my heart will be a sanctuary for my love for you,
As forever dedicated to loving you is my will for you.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2013.

One drop at a time rain came,
The drops so continuous I felt,
They are the lines directly from heaven blessing,
Mind, eyes, earth and everything living and makes,
Life more beautiful, bringing more life even from mud.
Bless Me.

Put a head phone on and play these videos together… Close your eyes… Feel what I feel. 

 

I announced the name of this poem during the first BlogTalkRadio show and at that time I gave an idea about the poem in a series of poems I was writing. I brought the series to a halt but they are not abandoned yet. I took the name of the poem and wrote a poem with some different thoughts in mind. The very name will give you insights into the thought process that went behind writing this poem.

Have a great time folks.

The Blasphemy Of Romance.

Weeping through the night without a sigh
Weaving dreams in which we both dance
Where are you oh’ my dearest darling?
Why are you so silent with your love?

Let the world throw a storm at you,
Let life throw you in a whirlpool,
Let the skies shower hail at you,
Let the mountains fall all over you,
The will of man still can make you smile.

As, in your love filled smiles will melt
Mighty winters that froze,
Mountains and seas and will calm,
Storms that clashed within our minds.

From far, far away my eyes searched,
For the feeling seen in two eyes yearned,
Oh’ you are the light of the present,
You will be the light of future ways,
Come to me and honor the love of mine.

Pure is my love, though life never was all pure,
In the age dictated search for truth,
Sleepless nights and lust filled games
And the lies ah’ they built life.

Ah’ my romance for you a mysterious blasphemy,
Of love and romance by you and all you love defined,
All I have become was a scattered summer storm,
And the shattered broken heart by the heat of life,
Dried, yet still whispered to you in language of the heart.

Whisper of heart became screams of soul,
Silence left life stealing your image from mind,
Oh’ wonders of life and time lied they will heal,
All wounds filled with painful regrets.

When regrets with vengeance I washed away,
Ah’ all left was a nightmare filled,
With poisonous snakes from all around biting,
In those venom filled eyes I looked and learned,
They are manifestations of my own love for you.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2013.

There are no explanations I can find for this poem. It is just the way it is.

The Girl On The Wall.

Through the sidewalk like mist she moved,
And nature danced along her charmed filled walk,
Through her morning walks expressed,
Her art, her poetry and in rhythm all felt, her music.

From her heart came a wonderful smile,
And the morning spread imitating her smile,
Ah’ what wonderful dreams her love can fulfill,
What wonderful life holding her hands can lead.

Then thoughts veiled eyes from the beauty passing,
What terrible disappointment her negative answer can bring,
Thoughts became scenes of nightmares in the depths of mind.
From a slap on the face to running away from a mob.

All passed in a minute or two and upon a nearby stone sat,
Many, many nightmarish scenes haunted mind but still there sat,
A naughty little boy passing by gave a mocking laugh,
And the bird on the tree just missed with the poop he dropped.

Then got up and all around the neighborhood looked,
“Where is she? Where is she?” the swaying mind asked,
Nothing seen, not much heard, long time back she was gone,
With the mystery of many “Why” questions, went back home.

Back home, sweet home, ah’ a safer place from all other life,
Empty home, Oh’ a dreaded home, lightless and cold,
The magic of electricity and bulbs brightened home,
Yet, mind in a gloom never spoke anymore.

On the wall, the plain old wall a smiling face rested,
What beauty to life that wonderful girl brought,
What gladness from her heart she shared,
All memories from mind with giggles woke.

Ah’ all nightmarish scenes those memories erased,
Life once more felt like a never ending symphony,
Then a little moment of pause brought to mind a reality,
The girl on the street was just an imagination of unspoken love.

The smile of the girl on the wall erased that thought too.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2013.

A lot changed today… Frustration filled it by the end. I wanted to write a lot and decided not to. I never expected life to be easy but nothing changed, so I rest. There is this one girl to whom I should say this. You are in the most fantastic way to getting yourself fucking fucked you fucktard.