This one is about me and my writing. I have this amazing – and annoying – talent of being able to forget almost anything, and my writing stuff is apparently no exception. (My brain just randomly goes through and deletes stuff, I guess . . .) Just to sum it up, I wrote a haiku on it.

MELTWATER WORDS
In my mind, words flow
like meltwater, there, and yet
gone the next moment.


This one is based on a dream I had. It was kind of scary, considering I was dreaming that I lived in the past, and I was attending a woman's funeral. (In retrospect, I can tell that the woman was an embodiment of my mother, which freaks me out even more. She wasn't my mother in the dream, though.)

BEAUTIFUL IN DEATH
Covered in flowers
she loves, she lies forever,
beautiful in death.


This one's about sports. I'm a dedicated volleyball player, plus I recently got addicted to American football (to watch, not to play). In a particularly reflective – and morose – phase, I wondered why everyone who plays sports really tries so hard; thinking it over, only one person can be the best in the world, and even that can be overcome by others, later. But we still try, anyway.

PERFECTION
To reach perfection
we must strive always, though it's
unattainable.

Perhaps my favorite poem, most certainly a classic of contemporary Southern literature. "Half-emo" up there will be able to appreciate :P

"Ode to the Confederate Dead" (Allen Tate)

Row after row with strict impunity
The headstones yield their names to the element,
The wind whirrs without recollection;
In the riven troughs the splayed leaves
Pile up, of nature the casual sacrament
To the seasonal eternity of death;
Then driven by the fierce scrutiny
Of heaven to their election in the vast breath,
They sough the rumour of mortality.

Autumn is desolation in the plot
Of a thousand acres where these memories grow
From the inexhaustible bodies that are not
Dead, but feed the grass row after rich row.
Think of the autumns that have come and gone!--
Ambitious November with the humors of the year,
With a particular zeal for every slab,
Staining the uncomfortable angels that rot
On the slabs, a wing chipped here, an arm there:
The brute curiosity of an angel's stare
Turns you, like them, to stone,
Transforms the heaving air
Till plunged to a heavier world below
You shift your sea-space blindly
Heaving, turning like the blind crab.

Dazed by the wind, only the wind
The leaves flying, plunge

You know who have waited by the wall
The twilight certainty of an animal,
Those midnight restitutions of the blood
You know--the immitigable pines, the smoky frieze
Of the sky, the sudden call: you know the rage,
The cold pool left by the mounting flood,
Of muted Zeno and Parmenides.
You who have waited for the angry resolution
Of those desires that should be yours tomorrow,
You know the unimportant shrift of death
And praise the vision
And praise the arrogant circumstance
Of those who fall
Rank upon rank, hurried beyond decision--
Here by the sagging gate, stopped by the wall.

Seeing, seeing only the leaves
Flying, plunge and expire

Turn your eyes to the immoderate past,
Turn to the inscrutable infantry rising
Demons out of the earth they will not last.
Stonewall, Stonewall, and the sunken fields of hemp,
Shiloh, Antietam, Malvern Hill, Bull Run.
Lost in that orient of the thick and fast
You will curse the setting sun.

Cursing only the leaves crying
Like an old man in a storm

You hear the shout, the crazy hemlocks point
With troubled fingers to the silence which
Smothers you, a mummy, in time.

The hound bitch
Toothless and dying, in a musty cellar
Hears the wind only.

Now that the salt of their blood
Stiffens the saltier oblivion of the sea,
Seals the malignant purity of the flood,
What shall we who count our days and bow
Our heads with a commemorial woe
In the ribboned coats of grim felicity,
What shall we say of the bones, unclean,
Whose verdurous anonymity will grow?
The ragged arms, the ragged heads and eyes
Lost in these acres of the insane green?
The gray lean spiders come, they come and go;
In a tangle of willows without light
The singular screech-owl's tight
Invisible lyric seeds the mind
With the furious murmur of their chivalry.

We shall say only the leaves
Flying, plunge and expire

We shall say only the leaves whispering
In the improbable mist of nightfall
That flies on multiple wing:
Night is the beginning and the end
And in between the ends of distraction
Waits mute speculation, the patient curse
That stones the eyes, or like the jaguar leaps
For his own image in a jungle pool, his victim.

What shall we say who have knowledge
Carried to the heart? Shall we take the act
To the grave? Shall we, more hopeful, set up the grave
In the house? The ravenous grave?

Leave now
The shut gate and the decomposing wall:
The gentle serpent, green in the mulberry bush,
Riots with his tongue through the hush--
Sentinel of the grave who counts us all!



The irony is bitterly delicious, no?

the perfection one is really meaningful.

hmm my hidden talent.

If you are the moon that never sets.
I will walk the night.
I will be a quiet light in the endless darkness that surrounds you.
To protect the kindness whitin your eyes.
That is my wish.

That is soo nice! Did you write it?


This is an awsome poem by Dylan Thomas- it is about facing and fighting Death.


Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Before You Came
By Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Original Urdu (Translation follows)

tum jo naa aa'e the to har chiiz vahii thii kih jo hai
aasmaaN hadd-e-nazar, raahguzar raahguzar, shiishaah-e-mai,
shiishaah-e-mai

aur ab shiishaah-e-mai, raahguzar, rang-e-falak
rang hai dil kaa mere, "khoon-e-jigar hone tak"
champaa'i rang kabhii, raahat-e-diidaar kaa rang
sur'ma'ii rang kabhii, saa'at-e-bezaar kaa rang

zard pattoN kaa xas-o-xaar kaa rang
surkh phuuloN kaa, dahakte hu'e gulzaar kaa rang
zahar kaa rang, lahuu rang. shab-e-taar kaa rang

aasmaaN, rahguzar, shiishaah-e-mai
koii bhiigaa hu'aa daaman, ko'ii dukhtii hu'ii rag
ko'ii har lahzaah badaltaa hu'aa aa'iinaah hai

ab jo aa'e ho to Thahro kih koii rang, koii rut ko'ii shai
ek jagah par Thahre
phir se ik baar har ik chiiz vahii ho ke jo hai
aasmaaN hadd-e-nazar, rahguzar rahguzar, shiishaah-e-mai,
shiishaah-e-mai


English Translation by Naomi Lazard

Before you came things were just what they were:
the road precisely a road, the horizon fixed,
the limit of what could be seen,
a glass of wine was no more than a glass of wine.

With you the world took on the spectrum
radiating from my heart: your eyes gold
as they open to me, slate the color
that falls each time I lost all hope.

With your advent roses burst into flame:
you were the artist of dried-up leaves, sorceress
who flicked her wrist to change dust into soot.
You lacquered the night black.

As for the sky, the road, the cup of wine:
one was my tear-drenched shirt,
the other an aching nerve,
the third a mirror that never reflected the same thing.

Now you are here again—stay with me.
This time things will fall into place;
the road can be the road,
the sky nothing but sky;
the glass of wine, as it should be, the glass of wine.

I have two :)

Once again I find myself up at night,
The stars a shining in the sky,
The only sounds the clicking of keys and headphone’s crackle.
My finger begins to ache as one again I click.
My knees hurt from being pulled in the chair.
My eyes start to droop from tiredness,
And my brain ‘s malfunctioning again.

Yet when I stop to think I realize something.
I am most comfortable now.
No one expects a damn thing of me,
No one yelling in my face things to do, ways to feel.
I could go around the world if I wanted,
Talk to friends near and far.
Workin’ on projects if I must.

If I open my window you could just hear the night ‘s own sounds,
Quiet winds an’ gentle cricks.
If I think about it, what sense is night if not to be a bit lonely?
Time to think of such things the night provides shelter for with darkness?
That is for the day people, you must hide how you feel an’ do things you must.
Why I’d like the day o’er the night?
Three words, Three words that make me feel alive.

It’s my time.

--------------------------------------------------------------
I never told you how much I loved you
And it’s too late to even utter a sound…
As you leave my life…
Drift farther and farther from me.

You don’t even know you are.
I don’t blame you for going.
You never knew I had feelings…
I never had the courage to tell you.

I hide behind my smoke and mirrors.
Pretending to be smiling at your happiness.
Deep inside I cry…
Begging you to stay.

It might be better not to say anything.
But why does it hurt so much…
Why am I starting to lose my grip…?
No you won’t understand.

You’re in your world and I am in mine.
Separated not by miles…
But by life times.
No one can breach it.

So I will keep my silence…
I will continue living in my little world…
With you in yours.
Never crossing paths that way.
---
Sorry both are long

i am

a daughter, a sister
a grand-daughter, a niece
a cousin, a FRIEND

i am a PARTNER, a student
a YOUNG GIRL & a GROWN WOMAN

i am confident & scared
terrified and excited

i am loving and caring
thoughtful & hopeful

I am SICK AND TIRED
living in this world!

i am shy and friendly
careful and careless

i am BROKEN and whole..

i am MISUNDERSTOOD,
misguided & mislead

i am HARD WORKING & DETERMINED
but a LITTLE SCARED ON D INSIDE

i wish on the stars nd
DREAM MY DREAMS

i walk ALONE
nd CRY MY TEARS

i SMYL ON D OUTSIDE
wyl im DYING ON D INSIDE

i LISTEN TO OTHERS
hu WONT listen to me

i walk on THORNS
nd i WALK ON FIRE

im an ANGEL W/ BIG HORNS
a DEVIL W/ ANGELIC WINGS

i beliv in PASSION
but NOT TRUE LOVE

i am STUPID
i am that shit lil' brat

i alwys exprncd jrky thngs
& ol dt bullshits kip ff

i am EVERYTHING nd
NOTHING all at once..


~~my poem i usually post on about me sec, it really fits in my skin..

Walking, slowly,
never stopping,its cold, very cold.
The wind bites my nose,
people laughing in warm restrants.
Wish, just one wish please.
There could that be, no that can't be.
Yes, yes it is,
one foot in front of the other I walk closer.
But then shes gone,
the winds taking her away from me, far away,
but I was close, so close.
So I'll keep walking, just keep walking.

If I…?


If I were to disappear,

Would you care?

Or would you just pretend

I was never there?

If I were to scream,

Would you come and save me?

Or would you wait for

Someone else to set me free?

If I had a nightmare,

Would you calm my fears?

Or would you just add to my tears?

If I were to say I Love You,

How would you react?

Well I guess it doesn't matter,

Because to me you've always turned your back.


Because of you

Because of you my heart
cries tears of pain
Because of you my love
for you is all in vain
Because of you
i want to hide
Because of you
my tears have yet to dry
Because of you my heart
has shattered
Beacuse to me you
really mattered

both by Durana I.

bought a cake
and then i ate it
good it was

I call for you
You are not there
I look for you
You are gone
I need you
You don't want me

Am I so awful that you can not find a place for my love
You won my heart, and it's yours

Instead of loveing, careing, and protecting my love
You twist and turn it into a object you play with at will
Torturing, teasing and molesting my love
Not thinking twice of what you have done
No matter what you say or do you can not change the damage that is done.

You have taken my innocence.
Replaced it with distrust and suspicion

Graffiti Artists and ...

Walking around the town,
Watching bunch of clowns,
Doing as they pleased,
Not afraid of the police,
Vandalizing public properties,
As its their experties,
Spraying the wall with different colours,
Image painted is not clear,
Image painted is indeed an art,
Only that, it is done by retards,
Why are they doing this?
Do they long for my fist?
As they spraying the walls behind that shop,
I will sneak up on them and catch them.. bcos im a cop..

By: bonehead a.k.a me

Sympathy


Light like a breeze,
pure and kind, his smile
Offering a hand to
a mud ridden ones.

In a sea of passer by,
he's the only
one soul that cared to stop.
But so sad,
hand around the tea cup,
hair gray with age and wisdom.
burning incents wishing,
a son would return home,
a soldier would return home,
shedding tears,
to the obituary where,
it has photograph of the face
of one, that once
he claimed his proud offspring.

As the mix of sobs and lullaby,
which, only the wind cared to be
his audience,
collapsing to the soils,
like my broken heart seeing,
a god's child with all,
his bitter times and trials.