Tag: poetry

to the poet

you spin with the rings of Saturn
and twirl around the stars when they combust
you catch wisps of their memories
as they die having witnessed centuries
and use them greedily as you
scribble your poems, unconscious of yourself.

-Moniba.

“I wish, I wish, with all my might…”

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Lonely days and lonely nights
Make me wish wish all my might
Someone here would share my time
Share my dreams and share my fears
Make me smile and just be mine…

Read my mind and help me find
All the bad and all the good
All the things that make me wild
Take control and make me good
Make me pure and make me true
True to Him and true to all…

Give me hope and make me shine
Make me happy, share my time
Lonely days and lonely nights
Make me wish with all my might
For someone who would share my time
Share my dreams and share my fears..

Lead the way to paradise, take me far from hell-it’s cries
Gain me pleasure, not His wrath
Make me one of the Beloved
Lonely days and lonely nights
Make me wish with all my might…

~Moniba.

“Without”

Trying to write
without words.
Trying to speak
without voice.
Trying to draw
without lines.
Trying to listen
without sound.
Trying to see
without light.
Trying to feel
without emotion.
Trying to be
without being.

Can you do the essential without the essential?

And here sits the poet

Black crows, circling the sky
Beneath dark clouds, alone they fly

Coconut trees, with lush green blades
Swaying leaves, and trunks with plaids

Gravel, marked with tire tracks and stones
Footsteps strange and familiar it owns

Along the road, a light turns on
A swing set, a porch seat, a life is born

And here sits the poet, watching with awe
Looking with her pen, writing what she saw

~Moniba.

 

Unity: Black+White=Grey

She said she liked uniting black and white.
To wash the black with the purity of white,
And to swipe the white with black, and make it invincible.
Once and for all.
I told her she was prejudiced.
That white wasn’t pure, and black wasn’t evil.
That they were colours that,
When united, make grey.

~Moniba.

The little girl and her balloon

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{Watch the slideshow too, it’s just a doodle for fun.}

The little girl clutched her balloon tightly
Careful not to let it go.
She loved it and wanted it to stay with her
Forever.
Alas, she clutched too tightly,
The balloon flew up to the ceiling of the room.
Horrified, she looked. Determined, she climbed
One height to another, to get her balloon.
Stretching her tiny hands out, she reached the string.
And just when she had it, she fell.
From height to floor she fell
Hurting her fragile frame.
The balloon in her hand, she braved the fall.
And just when she smiled
The sweet smile of success
Her balloon burst.
Her face fell.
The child grew up.

~Moniba.