“A TALE OF A DESERT -I L L A T I O N”

When the rain ceases the reins of weather

To aggravate the shallow walls of plastic smiles

To raise a scented insurgency

In the parched veins of the soil

I remember the contours of your face

Your smile, the subtle tilt of sin was enough

To give me wings to soar to a moon of bliss

The sublime hunting of your gaze

Was an invitation to plunge myself into a wildness

Now there is nothing but adjectives to explain you

And dreams where you’re hauntingly copious

So much so that when awake

I feel, this life, this shadow of existence is nothing

Except finding a glimpse of your proud features

In every stranger’s face

And a wanderlust to collect

The faded vapours of your whispers

At this moment I meet a truth

Which is jaded by its own grief

Translating me into a withering cherry tree

Knowingly, my eyes shed a smile

A smile of a ripe autumn

Denuded by red chaos

Melded in hot liquid sorrow

Which flows inside me, shrouds me completely

I become all the particles of sand

Burning naked in the deserts of the Sahara

Comes the night, lightening up her dark magic

The burnt sand glows in the majesty of yearning

And the cactuses don’t protrude, rather, grow inward

Mirages seek a fantasy for a living

The only oasis, I harbour, resides in your touch

If this rain could brim you to the edges

Draw me in, in one giant quaff

The desert shall be receding into the depths of immortality

Dedicated to the oasis of words which keeps a desert hydrated enough to live.

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“Even If” (Woman in Love)

Shereen's Blog

Image Woman in love by Henry Nelson

Even if you’re no longer the destination to submit myself to

I, within myself, keep flying towards you

Like it’s the only justification of me being intact without you

 

Even if your form & fragrance is not mine to hold like a treasure

My lips, in their pursuit of forbidden, drench your soul in their moistness,

Like it’s the only prayer, they’re obliged to utter when devoid of sustenance

 

Even if your name is no more but a relic of the days of yore,

My hands can fathom your tenderness in your disappearance,

Like it’s the only allegiance my senses are devoted to, madly, chastely

 

Even if time has broken the bridge we meant to cross as one soul

The infinity of yearning is sharp enough to carve a secret pathway within me

Like it’s the only road, my strides would worship long after death

 

Even if the promises are lost in…

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“Even If” (Woman in Love)

Image
Woman in love by Henry Nelson

Even if you’re no longer the destination to submit myself to

I, within myself, keep flying towards you

Like it’s the only justification of me being intact without you

 

Even if your form & fragrance is not mine to hold like a treasure

My lips, in their pursuit of forbidden, drench your soul in their moistness,

Like it’s the only prayer, they’re obliged to utter when devoid of sustenance

 

Even if your name is no more but a relic of the days of yore,

My hands can fathom your tenderness in your disappearance,

Like it’s the only allegiance my senses are devoted to, madly, chastely

 

Even if time has broken the bridge we meant to cross as one soul

The infinity of yearning is sharp enough to carve a secret pathway within me

Like it’s the only road, my strides would worship long after death

 

Even if the promises are lost in the ruins of togetherness

They are sacred as forlorn temples, glorified in the tradition of desire

Like it’s the only understanding of the divine & desolated

 

Even if we are two bodies, pawns in the hand of destiny

I grant you my soul, pursuing you when you’re far away

Like it’s the only worship to atone for the sin of existing without you

 

The title of the poem is taken from Henry Nelson O’Neil’s painting “Woman in Love”. The poem is to express a defeated stance yet a determined soul of woman in love.

 

 

“I N C U R A B L E”

Chasing an escape from the siege of memories.

Memories have got a merciless hook;

The hook is invisible,

It doesn’t bleed flesh,

It spears into the tapestry of spirit,

Unknots the threads of existence,

Pulls me inside out,

Wounds the air I inhale,

Puts distress in the ebb & the rise of my chest.

An ember like presence invoking an inferno in every breath.

This madness of the hook;

To be a permanent premonition,

To excavate my soul & douse it in an acid rain…

A testament,

That the vows of languish would tend to my every step,

The siege of memories would last longer than me,

The ever smouldering void would nourish itself

Into an accomplished hell.

Waiting would be like a fairy tale;

A fiction misleading the naïve reality.

And you, my savage sun, wouldn’t be mine

Yet I, a snowflake, would be your ceaseless lover..

Melting in your downpour yet never fading nor staying.

“U N F O L D I N G”

A predator,

Who’s eating his prey whole, every moment.

Then recreates her to devour, again.

It’s like time & space are writing this tale

Where prey is torn_

Torn between an illusion and

The agony of letting the illusion elude.

The prey wants to cling to what’s destined to burn into ashes;

Yet the burning drives the prey more,

More Than it ignites the predator to pounce.

The predator is beautiful,

A ravishing creature of living_

Living that tastes like dying & reincarnation.

This baffling state of being

Binds the prey to her predator.

A cataclysmic magic blinks in triumph,

Keeps the complete ruin at bay,

Allowing a mourning to mark all escape routes.

A mourning that no one can witness,

Albeit it’s a recurring event in the soul.

Surmounting the prey like a snarling sea

Who has renounced loyalty to its boundaries.

The prey kowtows before the deluge while giving up herself

Predator, that hopes are,

Accepts the sacrifice & disappears forever.

“A Moment An Eyeful”

Image
The Love Toke by
Charles Lebrun Guillaume

(What she says)

A thirsty stolen glance

Beckoning a heated, hedonist urge,

A worshipping festival of gratitude

Flourishes in waiting shrines of yearning,

Coveted tunes of a forgotten spell

Spread their inviting arms.

 

A quivering moment between marrow & breathing,

An awakening bout of “the love toke”

Waltzing tendrils of a merry drunk spring,

Convolute around that profound awareness,

Oscillating within my heartbeats.

 

Narrow alleyways of life,

Veils of obscurity

Can’t restrain the pulsating pink tulips in my soul

Turning into fiery red rebels

_Waving flags of his anarchist scent

Blowing petals of his sinful lips_

Whenever his eyes claim my existence.

 

(What he says)

Clad in ancient customs

And my favourite colour

She’s my patience & provocation.

Arresting my strides

Liberating my eyes, sight by sight.

I wrote these words just to pay a tribute to this brilliant painting. And I know I fell short of what I wanted to say. What a perfect moment painted by the painter…etched on the marble of centuries yet might’ve passed in a blur. This is my version of what transpired between the two lovers when they catch a glimpse of each other.

“A Journey”

A mad urgency to kiss the face of an elusive love

And to tear apart the oath of loneliness

Lying sacredly in the depths of her soul.

She surrenders the destiny of her footprints

To the seal of an endless journey.

Carrying in her hands

A lantern with aureate glow

Which gobbles up a dream, daily.

Then burns as if

Eternity is evolving in the womb of its taper.

The path she’s trudging alone is life itself_

So alive & alluring in its appearance,

Yet deep down a rapaciousness_

Flowing towards its own fall.

The journey;

Crowned upon the spear of her reluctant expectations,

Doesn’t need roads,

Albeit make inroads to the field where hopes grow,

Feeds on their beauty & seeds starvation instead.

Image