No More

Ah, 'tis sad for me to tell you, dear friends, that I am intending to stop blogging. I am not very into computers anymore. It's getting annoying logging on, and everything.
So, thankee kindly for your positive comments. I'll still be dropping by onto your blogs, though.
So byyye!!

My Child

I'll work night and day
just to protect my child.
I'll spill blood and pray
just to protect my child.

Sword in my hand,
hatred in my heart.
Stare at her lustily,
and your brow will be marked!

SS # 54: In the News

In the news

they keep on repeating

what happened years ago.

Keep on making me

feel the pain

and the anger

at my brothers and sisters

in Islam.

No sense of decency,

no sense of respect.

O Muslims!
Why do you not follow

the best example

that has been laid out for you

on a clear path!
O Muslims!
Why do you not

observe the Quran

and treat it like it is meant to be treated:
with respect!
O Muslims!
Why are you

marking all of our foreheads

with blood

and making us all criminals

in the eyes of the West!
Why do you not let the truth

shine through?
Surely,

Islam is a sacred religion,

a pure religion,

not a religion meant to be laughed at.

If some are so blind,

do not poke their eyes with sticks,

to heal them.

Whisky

Sweepin' the floor daily,
watchin' my masters drink.
The bottle's emptyin' itself,
need a new one, quick!

'Else I'll be whipped,
across the back, and will you care?
Where are the rights the government
promised me? where are they?

I suppose they're like the whisky:
temptin' at first, but do not last
& they give a false sense of
hope and security.

She's Gone Upstairs

"She's gone upstairs,"
they tell me.
"She's just gone upstairs."

I look at them like they are crazy.
How long can she be upstairs?
How can a Mommy leave her Child?
I thought that we had a bondage, a special thing.
Mommy and Daughterl,
and little Baby with Daddy.
But she's not coming down.
Oh, when will she come?
I want her so much,
My heart is aching beneath these white sheets.
I'm sick and tired of doctors and nurses!
Why, my mama, would never wear anything that ugly!
What's taking her so long?
These wires sticking out of my neck are annoying.
Not until I see Mom will I stop complaining.
Yes, I know I'm a brat,
but Mommy never thought so.
When will she come back?
Tell her to hurry!
I want to tell her about that crazy driver
who smashed into our car!
And where is Daddy?
And little Baby?
Tell me! Tell me!
I know that you're lying!
What is she doing upstairs?
Why doesn't she just use the elevator?
It's very fast, you know.
Oh, where is my Mommy?

"She's gone upstairs."

Oh!
She's...gone...
SHE'S GONE?!

"Upstairs."

Without My Glasses

I walk unsteadily down the path
that was once surrounded by greenery.
Guards stand like trees,
forbidding me to loiter.
Little moons hang in the sky like lanterns,
and if I jump I can touch them.
Obstacles litter my path like rocks,
struggling to trip me.
I raise my eyes and see my destination;
my heaven.
A doorway looms like a hedge,
entrancing me.
I break into a run and reach out...!

It was only ever a hedge.

Freedom to Smell

Whiff
the aroma.

What aroma?
The smell of cars and petrol?

No,
smell beyond that.

Smell the sea,
from away in Hawaii.

Smell the mountain air,
on Mount Everest.

Smell the flowers,
blooming on the country-side.

Smell the wind,
brushing against Bambi's side.

Smell the sweat,
of free hands,
working in liberty,
to do their will.

Just Another Day...

(BEFORE DANCE)
Smooth skin
Like in Nivea commercials.
Perfect hair,
A picture to drool over.
(DURING DANCE)
All gone.
Make-up a disaster.
Flustered, sweaty,
Zits, acne, pimples.
(AFTER DANCE)
Tired.
Mourning over lost boyfriend.
Drop into bed
And snooze.

SS # 52: In the Kitchen

As a child,
rushing from the TV,
running, running,
to find that meal,
set on the wooden table.

Now,
when I find time to come home,
I see,
maybe cookies,
maybe cakes,
desserts to delight in,
memories to roll in.

Where did it all go?
The aroma,
waffles,
sizzling eggs,
where did it all go?

Bright and Bonny Eyes

A kiss,
A smile,
A laugh.
Waves of curls,
pushed aside,
to find...
Little blue buttons,
Bright and bonny.
Laughing now,
chewing then.
Beginnings of teeth
like little daggers.

Who knows what the future holds
for those bright and bonny eyes?

SS # 51: Inspiration

The fairy's wings flutter and,
a little wind crosses my path.
Some dew an maybe even grass
stuck in it.
I catch it in one hand
and like a bird,
carefully carry it home in two hands.
It's trying to escape.
It knows it can.
But my grip is iron,
and there's no escaping.
I carry it along the path,
a struggling, pecking bird.
A few bruises here and there,
not enough to scare.
Putting it on my desk,
a messy tangle of nature's trash.
Pick out all of the garbage,
only aiming for the gold.
And ah! there it is!
Glittery, golden ideas.
Shining like light on a mirror.
Rippling like a fish's scales.
But oh no! my hand loosened
and there it flutters away,
out the window and away, away, away.
Me clawing at useless air,
my pen untouched and paper not crumpled.
Fool's gold.

???

Curly hair,
Round face,
Fir trees whistling,
Town wondering,
Uncle Alp,
Up in mount,
Invalid friend,
Homesick then,
Learn to read,
Learn to write,
Can you guess
My name right?

Whenever I See You

Whenever I see you
I feel like jumping,
yelling,
screaming.
Just wanna get you attention.
But you always ignore my efforts,
wave them aside,
like they're an annoying fly.
Maybe you enjoy watching me suffer?
Maybe you enjoy feeling admired?
But what about me?
Making a fool out of myself
when you pass my locker.
Watching you flex your muscles,
drooling.
Watching your hair bounce
with every step.
Like a dog,
I follow you.
And heartlessly, you allow it.
Why do I love

a man with no heart?

Hide

breathing
loudly.
never
has heart
pounded
against chest
with such
noise.
"they are coming"
I whisper,
but it seems
like a scream.
"hide! run!"
I order
with as much
urgency
as one can
say while
whispering.
hide-
all that I want
to do.
let mommy &
daddy & the
other adults
take care of it
while I hide
under the

covers,
fearful of

monsters.

monsters,

I think.

scaring my

children.

so much

they have to

understand.

and as I grip

the table,

someone,

or something-

knocks on

the door.

when I get that idea,
it hits me like a bolt
of lightning, it slaps me,
trying to get my attention.

it bangs against my door.
full force! it cries.
it swears & pounds & stamps,
an idea to its core.

never mind creeping! it
shouts. subtlety is for the
tactful! it declares,
and I can't agree more.

Fried Egg

'Mommy,
if you break that egg,
will a chick come out?'

No dear.
There's no chicken inside.

'Then why do
they always show that
on National Geographic?'

Because, dear,
those are special eggs.

'Am I a special egg,
Mommy?
And what's a special egg?'

It's an egg
that was treated well
when it was young.
You are my very special egg.

'How do you know
that there is no chick inside,
really?'

They know because
they have machines to check.

'What if the machine
is wrong and a chick
is boiled to death?'

If a chick comes out,
I'll turn of the stove
and you can keep it.

'I don't want to eat
breakfast anymore.
And you don't eat it either!
Bye, Mommy!'

Bye dear. Drink some milk first.

trickling down my neck
a sweet river.
following its own path,
or is it?

trudging down the road,
a muddy mess.
bag in my hand,
feeling sleepy.

bumping on the adam's apple
should it turn left or right?
which shoulder was
more sympathizing?

a rock on the ground;
a minor setback.
a bend in the road,
another obstacle.

not knowing what
would come next,
it heads for the left
and falls.

unaware of the sign,
i turn for the left,
and, still a sleepy song,
fall off the cliff.

Tiny, Miny Me

Big, Tall Me
Sitting In My Tree.
Chewing A Twig,
Feeling So Big.
Then The Branch Snaps,
And I Collapse.
Down I Fall,
And Manage To Crawl.
A Man Comes Running,
Calls The Police, Hurrying.
Tiny, Miny Me,
In The Hospital, See?
Don't Feel So Big Anymore--
What If That Man Hadn't Picked Me Off The Floor?

after the fire

they say it will go away.
they say all i have to do is blow
and the ashes will sail away
like the have fluttering wings.
but i tell them that hurt
is not light; it is heavy,
and i carry a heavy heart.
but they reply that if i try,
the hurt will become a feather,
only a reminder
of the bird that once flew.
i am ready to blow.

Dawn in the City

Dawn in the city,
and what can I see?
Buildings,
huge buildings,
blocking the hidden,
consuming sky.
Dawn in the city
and great people say
that the more buildings we have,
the more advanced we are.
Dawn in the city,
but what about me?
Who can only imagine
the extuinguishing sky.

Wilting

Its pink
is dropping
and dripping.
(Drip, drop.)
It falls onto the ground,
a splash of colour.
But above
there is now
black and white
like a film,
or the negatives of
the pictures I took
on our trip to India.
Colours,
sucked to the mud;
you are wilting.

Sunshine

They stuck the pieces together carefully, like they were pieces of gold. Each piece was special: a puzzle piece like that could not be found again. It was an old jigsaw puzzle, almost antique. The children's grandfather had given it to them when they had turned ten. Together. Their birthdays were always on the same day-they were twins.
Ralphie and Lynn couldn't help but love jigsaw puzzles. They had lived with their grandfather most of their lives, and their grandfather was an expert at puzzles. He always said that puzzles strengthed the mind. He remembered everything. When Lynn and Ralphie had sked him what his oldest memory was, he had replied, "My father hugging me when I was born."
Grandpapa had wrinkles the shape of puzzle pieces. Lynn thought that his face was a very much like a jigsaw puzzle-hard to figure out. She had worn his cheeks with kisses. Ralphie, who had started to think himself a young gentleman, was too manly for that now. But even he could not help but hug Grandpapa tightly when they went to his house.
The puzzle was almost complete, only the sun was missing, when their mother rushed in, tears sparkling like diamonds on her cheeks.
"Oh! Darlings! Your grandpapa, he's...he's," she hesitated. Lynn and Ralphie's hearts skipped a beat together. A rush of fear flooded their minds. Lynn suddenly had the urge to clamp her hand on her mother's mouth. Let not the awful truth come! But...
He was dead. Grandpapa had died. Nothing painful, just a heart attack. He couldn't have felt more pain than his grandchildren. And how much pain they felt! Lynn felt like her heart had dropped on the ground and cracked. All of Ralphie's manliness had slipped away with his grandfather's life. He cried openly now, not even bothering to wipe his tears. His friends had deserted him when he needed them most. And Lynn's friends stayed when she wanted them to go.
The day of the funeral finally arrived. Lynn had been dreading it. Though it seemed silly, she spent hours deciding what dress she was going to wear. Most of her clothes were black, a colour her grandfather hated. She finally chose her long skirt and blouse. But they weren't black.
When Lynn arrived at the funeral, all eyes followed her like magnets. She heard someone gasp. In pink and white, she looked like she didn't care at all. They didn't know how much she cared. Enough to humiliate herslef in front of the priest, her mother, her friends, everybody.
During the funeral Ralphie had felt his heart being buried with his grandfather. He couldn't bear to watch Grandpapa die. It seemed like yesterday when he gave them the puzzle. Only yesterday.
Yesterday they had been arranging the puzzle. When Ralphie went home, it was still there. Incomplete. He picked up the last piece, and finished it.

The sun was shining.

Lost Dog

A scent...
she sniffs her nose.
Now its on the ground.
Past candy wrappers,
and cotton candy sticks,
she zig-zags through the maze.
A mime makes a face,
but she doesn't care.
Only one aim:
find.
And until she doesn't,
she'll keep sniffing
with her nose on the ground.

Beneath the Flowers

Beneath the flowers
that try to smother the stink,
I can still smell pain.

War of Words

The pen held upright
like a sword.
Both;
Ready to fight
for all he was worth.

“We’re neck deep in trouble,”
wrote He.
“We can’t stop now,”
wrote his double,
and took out his paper.

“Ready?”
wrote He.
“Go!”
wrote his double
and they bent over.

Two humps
scribbled
all the insults that they could think of
in ten minutes.
Scratch, scratch.

“Ring! Ring!”
screamed the alarm.
Both humps got up.
“Mine are better!”
wrote He right away.

“No! Mine are!”
penned the other angrily.
They decided
Logically
to call their mother.

Poor fools were punished
right away.
Mother led them away
By their ears,
red and stinging now.
Two brothers
fought each other.
None could speak now:
They had lost their pens and papers
and both were dumb.

The Music's Still Inside Me

Dancing to the beat
of my rhythmic wooden spoon.
Fiddle playing right outside.
(spin, ladies, spin!)
Twirl my way
into my lover’s arms,
a bowl of dough in my hands.
(turn, twist, splat!)

The cleanings finished,
the chores are done,
and I’m washing my hands.
(Tap, Tap, Tap)
The music’s still inside me,
my lover’s at the door.
Who says I can’t
Dance anymore?

Blizzard

Numb

hands
and
freezing

toes.
Only warmth

is coming from
my heart.
Nose

frozen;
ears

icicles.
Wind

howling

like a

wolf

at the moon.

Aware and

so

sleepy

that I could just

d

r

o

p.

Want to

lie down

on the blanket

of ice

and wrap myself

in clouds

of snow.

Maybe

it will

make my dreams

softer

if I dream

with soft feathers

for my pillow.

But I trudge

on

with hailstones

prickling my face

like pins,

my brains supply

thoughts of

finally getting

home.

I

trudge

on.

Tragedy

for Rahah

She didn't know it was
coming. How could she?
Daddy driving, Mommy
feeding the baby.
And she was playing with
her little sister.

All five happy,
unaware,
but angel Gabriel was close,
a hair's breadth away.
He reached for her, and her, and her,
and him.

Unaware.

Remember all those times
when classmates laughed at you?
Who were you able to call
friends,
and who was just another
person in your tragic life?

Closer...

All at once
but in slow motion.
Red car;
vroom!
Sister opens her mouth
in a scream.
Lost in the air.
Mother ducks
to protect child.
Father spins wheel
swearing.
Baby,
for once,
silent.
And she, the
heroine in this tragic story,
saw:

Saw the blood,
the heads,
chopped.
Saw the people crowding.
And saw blackness.

He had reached them
and spared only one
from five.

No more family trips,
no more laughter.
Gloom,
a silent depression.
Just one phone call to Mom
she begs.

Wires line her body,
skin inside-out.
No one left to turn to.
No one left to call.

A Year Wasted

Minutes pass
Like grains slipping
From the hands of life.

Seconds tick
A timeless waste
How much longer?

5...
4...
3...
2...
1!

Fireworks!
Crackers!
A glass of milk!

A year thrown away
Burning in hell's fire.

Maybe

Maybe one day
the moon will rise before the Sun.
Maybe one day
your heart and mine will beat one.
But until that day
I'll keep in mind what you say
And stay away.

On the Beach

thunderous waves
in a dreadful blue rage

sparkling skies
how many secrets you hide

twinkling sea
shells specially for me

wet sand
a sinking brown land

glowing sun
how much work you get done!

Ten Things That Define My Style

I've been tagged by Kai, so here goes nothing.

1. Being a proud Muslim. Praying, reading the Quran...that sort of thing (by the way, its Quran, not Koran)

2. Anything that is remotely connected with nature. :) That means gardening, growing, eating fruits & veggies...Mother Nature is very artistic, no? Oh, and this point also includes cats and ladybirds. Mew.

3. Gazing at the sky, esp at night, sunset and dawn. Truly amazing!!!

4. Crafts. Jewellery making, painting, cooking (that is a craft, right?), sewing...I'm a true housewife (even though I'm not married (; )

5. Candles. Soooo romantic. When I'm around candles in a dim room, I can feel myself floating away to Magic-land. Plus, they look awesome.

6. Writing poetry. Its like all of my worries have been transported onto the paper/monitor.

7. Yoga. Soooo calming and very, very good for me.

8. Whenever I'm worried, I just turn over my problems to the ocean. Its so huge and so thunderous, like it ha a bad temper. Strangely calming.

9. Music. Any type. It just hypnotizes me.

10. Babysitting. Why? Power!! (Muhahahaha!!!) Plus, they're cute. :)

anyway, this is for whoever wishes to have a burden of writing ten points that define themselves. what else?? oh yeah. Girls Only. :) And now I shall go and philosophize over great (and useless) thoughts and ponder over the creation of mankind and such. Goodnight.

an idea
blooming into a worn-out thought
hints
falling from my mouth
and slanted eyes
a touch
a moment
only in memory.

You

you stood by me when i was arguing
you helped me through-out my life
and not saying a word,
you sewed up my ripped heart
and forever glued a smile on my face.

salty tears
drive down my cheeks
dirt cleared away
but what about inside?

my heart is broken
no amount of UHU glue shall fix it
it is rusting
and no tears can wash the rust away.

then your smile
a sun in my rain
clears the clouds away.

how can i thank you
for what you have done?

and the kiss seals my envelope.

hidden in the corner
forgotten, like rotten milk
she cries
hears voices shouting,
louder,
and louder

you promised

oceans of yells
flooding her mind
bangs against the door of
lawyers and
fake white wigs.

im sorry.

lost in arguments
who's side is she on?
black, or white?
a chess board...
black, or white?

a thought

magic's in the air
like swans floating by
i see your hand holding mine
briefly, a fleeting image
racing against time
against shouts and pleas
a thought,
a moment,
a scrapbook of ideas
only in memory appear again.

Stop

Stop.
Stop to see the waves
of the flag,
Stop to see the ripples
of the puddle,
Stop to see the smoothness
of its fur,
Stop to hear the wind whistling
like the boy next door.
Stop to smell the spicy, tangy taste
of that onion.
Stop.

Secret

Digging my nails
into blood-stained hand.
Straing eagerly
at fair face.

Tell me all!
I'm at the edge of the cliff!
I'll jump off,
for your secret!

Whispers it
in my ear.
Giggles girlishly,
I just stare.

That was my apple
of appeal?
That was what you
penned about?

Pooh!
I'm going tobagganing;
and you may not come!