Writer
Who would have known
That I would sit here
Whiling away my time
Staring absently at the sky.
Sometimes a honey bee
Breaks my reverie
Sometimes I sip on my tea
Listening to chirping melodies.
Hours fly by
From daylight to twinkles in the sky
As I sit and dreamily wait
For my lover to walk through the gate.
A fallen Autumn leaf swirled up in the air.
Slowly it drifted down the lane.
A graceful glide with the gentlest wind waves.
On a rainy morning,
At some time of the day in mid-winter
I heard a sound of hustling,
Was it the trees rustling?
No silly, it’s the silver crockery
Crowded in Malvern Buttery.
The sounds of murmur rise in the air,
Is this a cafe or a winter fair?
With the warm smell of coffee
and oven-baked soft breads
A tingling grumble rises deep in the belly.
My path; piled-up by snow
I continue to walk slow
Towards the imposing Mount Kilimanjaro.
*Inspired by the famous quote of Fyodor Dostoevsky, “To live without Hope is to Cease to live.” No matter how difficult life gets, we continue to give our best to achieve our dreams.
I am sorry, I was away.
When I arrive,
I will search in your eyes
for longing and desire.
I guess,
you would miss me.
When I arrived,
You never turned my way.
Or look towards me.
You even failed to realize,
I was away.
I am standing by your side.
With longing and love in my eyes
Hoping, one day you’ll turn my way.
What is wrong with me?
Why is my mind treating me so miserably?
All I ask for are a few words..
To please my soul.
But seems like my numb mind
Is being too difficult
To let it all flow.
All I ask for are a few words
To rain down from my brain.
But every time I sit down to write
Holding this pen with all my might,
My mind remains to be distracted
Refusing to partake in my efforts
That could possibly bring me
Some glory.
Every flower needn’t have to be a rose.
A simple nameless plant,
Blooms when everything is dry and withered away.
Bringing hope and tiny smiles.
Some fools sketch,
Trying to capture beauty in simplicity.
A whisper in the darkness of the night
Made me pull my blanket up tight.
I lay inside with eyes wide open
Holding on to my breath.
The bed creaked; sheets rustled.
I shut my eyes.
A whisper again
It said,
Mine!
Haunted castle.
Restless ocean.
Dreary thunderous night.
Dusty curtains.
Lost footsteps.
Creaky wooden floors.
Dirty hingeless doors.
Rusty leaking taps.
Sleepy rabid bats.
Withered old trees.
A rustle on dried leaves.
A shadow with the breeze.
A lacy low-cut red gown.
A gasp.
A silent forgotten scream.
It was a chilly winter night when I saw her.
Haute or mysterious?
A black floppy wide brim hat covered her eyes.
Her red lips left behind a trail of smoke,
as she walked past me
with the echoes of her high heels
resonating in the dark alley.
Nuraine Sadaf 