Home Of The LonelyPoet

May 17, 2010 9:31 PM

Gone By Days.

Gone By Days.

The golden feathers of a bird in the spring sunshine glittered,
Oh’ upon her soft feathers wind glided,
Alone she rested and in thoughts maybe,
About the flight when summer warmth in air dance,
And in the cold morning of the fall fly,
Through the falling leaves low,
The ones once were green and large and gave,
Shelter and cover from mother nature’s wrath.
Then about the migration paths to find,
Leaving the howling winds and the piercing frost,
When to the southern thin and warm air fly,
But nothing down south can comfort,
Like the big green leaf’s touch,
When the piercing sun rays of the late summer noon binds,
When rain down comes and upon the leaf and splash,
And under it when with soaked feathers sit,
With nudging little ones for cover squeaking,
Yet another season unfolding,
Yet another set of events to come,
So much dynamism,
So much fascination,
Yet, results of events and actions,
Same as gone by days.

January 8, 2010 5:48 PM

The Essence Of A Lover’s Life.

This is a fantastic day, the Arctic blast is tap dancing around me. I am not a big fan of tap dancing still the tap dancing from North, yeah I can live with that. Tomorrow is going to get more colder in my mother tongue they say “Rudra Thandavam” it means the dance in Anger and Vengeance. Maybe what we are going to feel tomorrow is that kinda dance. I love cold, snow, ice and everything of winter. Today I was driving around in the cold by late afternoon I understood, I am an expert driver on icy roads but most others are not. So I got back home. Hope everyone is trying to stay warm this weekend. Enjoy the cold.
This poem is not a happy poem. For not a happy reason I thought of shutting down this PoetryBox. I am not going to go into the details of that. At that time I wrote this poem. It kinda gives the essence of the reasons. Well as I have decided not to shutdown the site I kept this poem away. I am not going to shutdown and go away from here. But the poem in its essence is very real. Sorry everyone on a cold winter day I only have more cold to give you all.

The Essence Of A Lover’s Life.

Sunday came and Sunday left,
He wished the sky were blue and air more warm,
He wished his love where in her arms,
But further and further form him she too left.

Wishes were all good, bad and many were just to be dreamt,
One way or the other from bad to just another dreamer he went,
A mad man talking to himself in the eyes of the world,
As so much about her love to himself he told.

The sleep in love brought the dream,
Then the dream through every corner of life weaved,
A drag net that gathered every bit of life and filled,
Love for her in way humanity unknown.

The wishes were like glaciers moved,
Eyes can’t see, legs can’t feel, no noise heard,
Love indeed is an unseen, unheard, untouched feeling,
Uninvited into him from all around consumed.

Unreal, impossible Oh many words from her he heard,
Mind like horses in a stable back and forth swayed,
As through every means love for her to erase he tried,
Ah’ the pain of the unloved he himself forget to forgive.

All he left, the pain still he felt and to erase he talked,
Talked again and again about all that came and gone,
To a wild world that danced around she too joined,
Unknowing, hearing his talks to erase his pain, to forget all, she too told.

A corner unknown, a way unknown he searched,
To go far, far away, far away from her he decided,
Oh’ then a drop of tear from the page he wrote erased,
The word love he wrote with the essence of his life, filled with her face.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved.

January 3, 2010 8:47 PM

Hooded

Hooded

In the cold of winter; trying to hide from Nature

November 13, 2006 3:40 PM

The Lonely Gardner.

The following poem is a test. Failing the test will have severe consequences. Read the poem very carefully, the lesson is
in the poem, there can’t be any questions, if you still have any ask me. You need to figure out what is the test by reading
this poem. I am posting this poem earlier than the test. Starting 6:00PM Eastern Time in United States Of America on
November 13^th 2006 my readers will have 24 hours to pass the test. Keep in mind asking me questions will not extend
the finishing time of the test. The test will end exactly at 6:00PM Eastern Time in United States Of America on
November 14^th 2006.

Good Luck.

This is me stitting on the edge of a fountain in front of the Eddie Bauer store in Kansas City. This picture was taken by
my brother on October 23rd 2006.

The Lonely Gardner.

The strip of barren land I own,

Upon which weeds and wild plants grew,

With creepers through land crawling,

As upwards to climb nothing they found.

With spade and scissors a long time I spent,

Cutting and cleaning and the land I ploughed,

Sowed the seeds of flowers and many roots I planted,

All in order and in order they grew.

The violets and bluebells spread through the strip,

The tulips behind them in aristocracy stood,

The roses spread pleasantness in mind with smiles of their own,

And orchids blossomed showing kaleidoscopic patterns.

Days I spent in keeping the garden bright and clean,

As eyes of mine and my minds eyes in happiness stared,

And with satisfaction of my own expression,

With smiles in the middle of the garden I stood.

Even when the garden in bright colors stood,

Onlookers from far away looked and with murmurs went,

Their eyes I can’t see as far away they were,

But none said a word as none close to me came.

Then there are those, whom I thought close to me they were,

They in silence wandered around, did they looked or not, I know not,

Mystery my mind love, but sometime many mystery hurts,

And unknowing what the world thinks about my construction,

Tired I sat, watching my own smiles fading away.

Then conscience asked why not build a wall around,

So that none will see the beauty about which none speaks,

The beauty of the garden only myself will enjoy,

That which for the world I constructed,

For my own satisfaction forever will exist.

I will grow more flowers and green smooth grass,

Forever the sight in my mind will live,

In those sights the sound of soul I will hear,

The soul of mine alone will sing in the happiness of mine.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM

“If you want to comment on my poems please visit and post your comments in LonelyPoet.Com all the poems that are
posted in this site will be there in LonelyPoet.Com“.

October 16, 2006 4:08 PM

The Last Word Of Love.

The book Age Of Survival my collection of poems is available in all major online book outlets.

Click here to buy at Amazon
Click here to buy at Buy.Com
Click here to buy at Barnes & Nobles
Click here to buy at Booksamillion
Click here to buy at Powells.Com

Healing Hands, you can see the video of that song in thegiven video here. I have seen this video on MTV when I was in India. There isa big fan of Elton John out there somewhere in Michigan who got all these rare videos ofElton John. Now this song… amazing lyrics and as usual the music was so wellwritten for the lyrics one will never say that the lyrics were written earlier.Elton John truly is a master who knows how to blend music into the poeticlyrics of Bernie Taupin. Enjoy the video.

Where is the darkness that haunted my mind?
Where are the faceless images that tried to scare me?
Illusions in a battered mind scatter,
As reality of a wonderful dream as your face seen.

I started gnawing on those four lines I wrote on Friday evening all night Friday night and the weekend then on Sunday. Eventually the following came out. Finishing a poem in the middle of the night and posting ittowards the middle of the day. See those four lines stands on its own, but I know there is more than just the four lines in there. If I try I can write a poem like this for each of those lines. But I don’t overwrite consciously. Last couple of nights were amazing. I have no words to explain it. Well that helped to finish this poem.

Read.

The day upon my side of earth ended its reign,
But no darkness entered my life as bright everything remained,
Where is the darkness that haunted my mind?
Everyday I can remember from my life.

Those images all days and nights that haunted,
During day time through wind slapped my face,
At night in the cover of dark hunted my mind,
Faceless they were, now into thin air disappeared.

Are those mere illusions that out of fear, sprout?
Or, are those byproducts of fantasy from childhood days?
But whatever they may be inside the walls of mind they scatter,
As the battered mind with merging of senses rejuvenates.

Through every senses to my mind storm,
The reality of all dreams I’ve ever seen and known,
And through every veins of mine roam,
Feeling of love from my senses, newborn.

Oh’ my senses forgot the material existence,
Of everything natural that exists,
As what felt in every sense,
Held them in the prison of passions.

Time reckoned the arrival of perfection,
Nature into a soul in essence dissolves,
And in meditation of love to you I come,
A God given blessing for every dark hour I spent.

Now I remember the sayings of the spiritual people,
More blessings and glow nights holds,
Than the brightest sunny summer day.
As to my soul you whisper,
The last word of love I wanted to hear.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM

October 8, 2006 9:13 PM

The book Age Of Survival my collection of poems is available in all major online book outlets.

Click here to buy at Amazon
Click here to buy at Buy.Com
Click here to buy at Barnes & Nobles
Click here to buy at Booksamillion
Click here to buy at Powells.Com

Written out of sheer frustration. Well… the paragraph “Oh’ in gladness you smile” was written long time back and the rest of the poem was added before and after in the last couple of days. Yes, when I am frustrated I write about beautiful things. When happiness overwhelms me, I write about sadness and anger and frustration. I hope everyone is enjoying good weather and good times with their loved ones. I rested this day…. I slept at about 4:00 in the morning. Then woke up at 6:23 in the morning again and prayed. Then slept at around 7:00 in the morning till 3:00 in the afternoon. So one can imagine how relaxed I am. Good for me. Haha…

Have a great week ahead of you all.

The Oasis Of Beauties.

The dry winds of days and cold of nights

The dust filling and covering even the depths of soul,

Cloudless, no greenery seen, no songs of birds,

Oh’ lifeless became every bit of senses.

Slowly through deserted paths I walked,

The call of the Ravens in distance I heard,

The call of the dead as old folks in my childhood days said,

But for the empty ears, Ah’ what a relief.

The paths broadened and softness under foot felt,

Life always will find its way,

Some old folks in youthful days said,

But what came to my senses was just not life.

The shine of every green growth upon your eyes seen,

The shine of every star upon your skin glowed,

The dance of all fairies seen when your lips moved,

The sound of all spring time birds united in every word you spoke,

Oh’ in gladness you smile,

And with happiness you dance,

Feelings of a new kind were born,

With your face in every bit filled,

In the amazement my mind float,

Watching the glory of beauty of the best kind,

And in fulfillment of a dream enlightened I am.

Through the light, love and passions shown,

I passed through the valleys of wonders unheard,

Everything beautiful in lost meanings faded,

As everything beautiful in union merged,

Into the depths of your soul when you said,

Those words of love in which my soul too dissolved,

As you became the oasis of all beauties.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM

“If you want to comment on my poems please visit and post your comments in LonelyPoet.Com all the poems that are posted in this site will be there in LonelyPoet.Com“.

October 6, 2006 5:02 PM

Last Drops Of Tears.

In less than 24 hours I don’t have much to update. But I found out there are more than Americans and people normally hates poetry, know about my book. Here are some interesting places where I found my book.

Age Of Survival In France It is no wonder why the French are so quite these days. Trying to figure out, what the heck we just read now.

Age Of Survival In Germany Even Germans are banging their heads on the wall after the read.

Age Of Survival In Forbes Book Club ????&**&**&%$ that’s what I am hearing from Wall Street. The Market needs correction as people are blabbering language we don’t understand. Business men/women read poetry. Unbelievable.

Have a great long weekend everyone.

The book Age Of Survival my collection of poems is available in all major online book outlets.

Click here to buy at Amazon
Click here to buy at Buy.Com
Click here to buy at Barnes & Nobles
Click here to buy at Booksamillion
Click here to buy at Powells.Com

Life sometime is veryhard to take. Some days are so harsh, one will feel nullified insideout. I still smiled at mankind, my hypocrisy, when I know deep inside Iam burning like a blast furnace. From one of those flames I wrote.

Last Drops Of Tears.

Upon a shore once I stood,

And the cool breeze caress my face I felt

And waves in curves rolling upon the shore in ecstasy.

Upon the hill once I stood,

And the naughty wind blasting upon my face I felt,

And the streams danced underneath with passion filled joy.

Upon the sand dooms of desert once I stood,

And the naughty winds hands through showering sands I felt,

And the earth underneath flown up with the wind enlightened.

Burying passions of my love I now stand,

And the naughty wind sharing my sadness, stood still,

And the earth underneath in tremors wept.

The shore, hill and desert all as monuments stood,

The wind flown through the monuments lazily,

The earth still mourned with my heart.

Nature so much into my soul filled,

So my feelings in Nature I see,

Still energetic and wonderfully beautiful.

The beauty of life through every feeling I understand,

This be another feeling, of lost love I learned,

Holding a handful of sand I shed, last drops of my tears for love.

“If you want to comment on my poems please visit and post your comments in LonelyPoet.Com all the poems that are posted in this site will be there in LonelyPoet.Com“.

September 30, 2006 5:59 PM

Blessing Of A Nightingale.

The book Age Of Survival my collection of poems is available in all major online book outlets.

Click here to buy at Amazon
Click here to buy at Buy.Com
Click here to buy at Barnes & Nobles
Click here to buy at Booksamillion
Click here to buy at Powells.Com

I don’t know how many of you ever read my poem “Song Of The Dying Nightingale” my favorite poem from the book “Age Of Survival” Thatpoem took about 10 years for me to figure out and write. There isreality, dream and pure fiction in it. You all may be thinking why am Isaying this. To really understand the following poem one need to scrolldown and find the recital of “Song Of The Dying Nightingale” at theleft hand side of this site. Listen to it. Then read this poem. I wrotethis poem as an aftermath to that poem.

Lastnight I was sitting in my room and it started raining, the rain dropshitting hard on the window glass. Then I remembered when I was astudent in Mysore, India, it is one of the mornings when it was rainingbadly I first heard the sound of that bird. I learned to speak andwrite English language to express what I felt. Now I am writing againabout that same bird. This time there is nothing real, just a feelingfrom a memory and rest is fiction.

Enjoy my friends, countrymen and of course…. My Darling. You all have the best of all weekends.

Blessing Of A Nightingale.

Darker everything they made,

Darker everything looked,

When upon the windows the cold drops shattered,

For a moment mind in the chill swayed.

Only the drizzle and my breathe broke the silence,

And drags of air in the autumn cold in my chest filled,

The phantoms of a dreamy past my only companions,

When breath grow longer, in the dream they joined,

Hand in hand for a wild old dance.

A cold wave from the glass window caressed my face,

And every bit of a beautiful dream erased,

When consciousness to my material being stormed,

Ah’ I said as the feeling in my mind still remained.

Then through the window I saw,

Sitting on the wide edge of the window,

A bird all wet, in the cold, shivering,

Without making a move to the eyes of bird I looked,

As the bird deep into my eyes looked as if in compassion,

Oh’ then the dream I remembered,

When in my younger days every morning I heard,

The sad tune of a bird in sadness sung and with sadness I listened,

And me holding the featherless corpse of that sad singer,

Pledging “I will rather live as a broken hearted,

Than break any lovers heart” I remember my own hand trembling,

Holding the corpse of that bird in sadness,

Whom never ever in all prettiness I have seen.

From my thought I got out still looking at the bird,

Looking at me the bird to the side took off,

And through the cold, windy rain flown far, far away.

“If you want to comment on my poems please visit and post your comments in LonelyPoet.Com all the poems that are posted in this site will be there in LonelyPoet.Com“.

September 27, 2006 9:36 PM

A Prayer Called ‘Love’.

The book Age Of Survival my collection of poems is available in all major online book outlets.

Click here to buy at Amazon
Click here to buy at Buy.Com
Click here to buy at Barnes & Nobles
Click here to buy at Booksamillion
Click here to buy at Powells.Com

Happy Wednesday everyone…. What’s up? I write this upon adark screen with green letters, mmm that’s a lie. You all read it upon a darkscreen in green letters. The first computer screen I have seen had this colorcombination. So I keep my Xanga like this. I can keep on talking about my Xangahistory. But it will only lead me to hate myself for my mishaps. Now this dayis a pleasant day. Some Wednesdays are like this they will makes you say “GREATGREAT GREAT, LIFE IS CLAAAASSSY” I love those days and at the end of those daysI write these kinda poems.

Thispoem is written out of truth. Pure and crystal clear truth. I lovespeaking truth and it pinches my heart when I have to lie. So this poemis written because someone told me the truth. The one truth Ialways wanted to hear. Please read the poem to know what truth I amtalking about.

A Prayer Called ‘Love’.

Life as if in a swing, up and down swings,
Every day one goes up and at night comes down,
The masquerade hiding the true self,
Wonderfully done all through days,
Still some frustration haunts mind that thrived,
In ambition, hypocrisy and deception of oneself.

What are the aims of the righteous mind?
I know not and don’t want to know more,
What is right and wrong, good or bad,
Pretty or ugly, Ah I don’t want know,
As everything when peeled away the outer layers,
In flesh and blood mocked mind and soul.

May be the closeness of heart and soul with many,
Punctures the feelings for each other disastrously,
And lost I many feeling upon my unshaven face,
But far away a soul knowing all misdeeds,
Still said, “I accept you as you are”
Oh’ wonderful I felt and all hypocrisy left,
I can’t deceive my soul anymore and all frustration melted,
Reality may still keep us apart,
But the tranquility of a dream in my soul I feel.

After bowing before God in thankfulness,
When raised my hands for a prayer for that soul,
My own soul in soliloquy said,
“Love needs no prayers, love itself is a prayer,
In the prayer of that soul, eternally you will live”.
Once more I bowed before God and away I walked,
With a heart with happiness filled.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM
“If you want to comment on my poems please visitand post your comments in LonelyPoet.Comall the poems that are posted in this site will be there in LonelyPoet.Com“.