Writer
Day 62
Give me inspiration, oh lord!
To write a few words,
That sound pleasing to the heart.
I am yet to complete my daily tasks,
Before I return to my chamber of slumber.
Strike me with a divine light of wisdom, dear God.
So I can learn to master,
The art of meeting with triumph
and not the disaster.
Day 61
I write this note
To say a few things to you
Please do not stare at my b**bs
What’s wrong with you?
It makes me uncomfortable
I never look at your dangler
Hidden deep in your wrangler
Why so disrespectful
My, so ill-mannered!
Day 60
I’m wickedly passionate
Thoroughly delightful.
My mysterious charm
Will truly enchant you.
A fragrant passing breeze
Or a joyful ecstasy
Just one gaze will totally bewilder you.
Day 59
Mad, mad world.
Why trouble me so,
The mind refuses to think.
The body needs some rest.
Let me be.
Let me free.
Day 58
Step into the darkness
Hold on to my hand
I will guide you alright.
Heard some whispers?
Never mind them,
Just stay on beside me!
Shadows on the walls,
Crumble of the rocks,
A howling call of the wolf,
Let them not scare you a bit
With my coldness around you
You know you will be just alright.
Day 53
There is something about mornings.
A fresh dampness in the air,
Calm, undisturbed terrain.
Light grey clouded skies.
Soft breeze rustling the leaves.
and birds chirping from afar.
The undisturbed innocence of the morning mind
Helps in appreciating these little things of life.
Day 52
Stretch of barren land.
Desert rose, faltering petals.
Tombstones, serene cemetery.
Rising, grey dark clouds.
Bare isolated, autumn tree.
Fallen lonely, maple leaf.
Old dusty, deserted library.
Fallen shoe, on an empty road.
Rusty green, park bench.
And her tranquil gaze.
Found beauty in all of these.
Day 51
Like a flower,
Your kind kinship blossoms my life.
Your negligence and anger
Pierces through my mind and heart.
Making me shallow,
Wringing the inside of my soul.
And I still do not hate you.
I feel you stronger in me than ever before.
You are so good that no matter how much it hurts.
I bond with you a little more than the day before.
Day 48
It was the first snowfall of the year.
The ground had turned white.
I looked out of the window,
Watched people walking by,
Wearing woollen caps and gloves.
I went out to feel the coldness in the air.
I picked some snow off the ground, made a ball of it in my hand
and watched it melt away.
Day 47
Crafting words in the mind’s eye.
It’s a persistent process.
Jumbled ideas pounce around.
Need to go grabbing and gathering.
Putting it all together right.
Writing is like..
A game or a piece of art,
or more like a..
Reflection of who you are.
Nuraine Sadaf 