Holding your hand…

If there is a bit of possibility leftHolding hands
or even a grain of sand like hope

          I will be holding onto that
          that someday,
          may be someday

holding your hand —
your fingers firmly locked with mine
we will walk towards the horizon.
On the other side of the horizon
a life waiting for us
a life — once we dreamt together.

photocredit:pinterest

KaziMustakim_All Rights Reserved © 2017

Advertisements

Art of Scars

Girl 4

Seeing an unfathomable darkness
from the cracks of her sparkling eyes,
he dove in and there he met her scarred
— vulnerable self and the beauty of her
broken heart which he was completely
unaware of, and he couldn’t restrain
himself from falling — for
The art of scars she bears beneath
her skin…

photocredit:zastavki.com

KaziMustakim_All Rights Reserved © 2017

Gest for my love

O’ my Goddess,
in your hair-
cryptocrystalline blackishness
pierce deeply the sunshine,
when sway –
light withers
and night invades the day.
On your lips –
twilight deepens to scarlet
like vermilion-
forming in crimson red,
crowns softly your twinkling smile,
when your celestial beauty
lilt an ethereal whisper –
sighs only I hear.
And those eyes –
penetrate my being with such affection,
inebriate gasp in my breath –
your love,
your touch,
your gentle confluence.

KaziMustakim_All Rights Reserved © 2017

Beauty lies in the eyes of its beholder

Crystal Ball Sunset

Just like Plato said- ‘’Beauty lies in the eyes of its beholder’’, I would love to think alike and same time I earnestly believe so. Basically things are all same, made of same ingredients with picturesque details perchance and through your eyes, your imaginative requirements of mind make it grand, rich and sumptuous to you……..or beauty is just of little consequence perhaps!

© copyright protected 2015

photocredit:google.com

Fragments from lone hours

And I close the door of my darkened chamber; I sit-
(midst of my four-walled confinement)
Beside fire- heaving a sigh of relief- Numb. Then hours fled-
My inanimate world comes to motion; commence with the recall of-
Forgotten past in an undignified manner. Faces arouse in suspicion-
From a curtained bitterness;
And I listen to those unheard voices from many years back,
All those symphonies which counts no one no more.
Slowly and softly my flattered thoughts embark on a saddened ride,
And the stormy wind outside turn into a grieving companion,
Rains strengthen its piercing arrows hurting upon the window glass
-in a sinful excitement,
And that is when all the noises turned off- like none of them ever existed
Quicker the foot steps of the last pedestrian dwindle away from nearby road,
Leaving a loner behind in solitude.
The enthusiasm in the fiery flames deaden quietly,
And a cold silence wrap me up. I crawl into the bed and no sound I make
I dare not awaken the ghosts from the dreamless slumber of night.
So I close my eyes-
But I hear again somewhere near a lost wind bewailing.
Somewhere falls a broken branch crying aloud
I become so aware of my frenzied spines- my anesthetized being,
And then I fall into sleep-
Or I compelled to die . . .
Adieu! Cursed shadows- the dwellers within me.

© copyright protected 2013

Note: Last night when I truly was feeling so lost inside and I started writing the feelings . . . . .

Creeping into Darkness

Crept into the cursed corner of my darkened dwelling –
When the accusation of innocent hours defunct me.
The silence of crowd penetrated my being with countless venomous darts,
My affectionate heart blackened by her rancorous touch;
When all the companions obscured my sight like stormy clouds
The voiceless scream palpitate my innermost rhythm with sarcasm,
When world’s all perplexities became incomprehensible statements,
And all arguments culminated in mockery and all seriousness into irony,
The Epitomes enraged a battle against each other in falsified manner,
And love deformed into an exchange of materialistic possessions,
Life lived by sensibility of cognizance where only nothingness nurtured,
And death reformed the world inexorably into a sane factor,
That delineated the whole play terminating all hope to the brink of bathos,
Where I no more contemplate my endeavors and-
That is when I crept into the cursed corner of my darkened dwelling . . .

© copyright protected 2013