Sagacious words

Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary. ~ Khalil Gibran

Saturday, 30 March 2013

Eternity and Existence

The sages through the ages said, what will be, will be.
 For when life in the moment of a speck, is heavenly
That, is the ethereal moving within the human entity.
And when life is bad, time breaks down into eternity,
In slow motion through the layers, are our souls flying.
The fight and flight of our convictions ease and erase,
All the surreal moments of ugliness and pity in names.
And contrast with momentous bursts of absolute clarity,
The tempered surges of powerful intermittent insecurity,
The sages of the ages said, from fire is born capacity,
Only ascension into space, helps visionaries give birth-
For only the fuel of earthly fires does make realities raw-
As everything changes, within, around and above the earth,
A relentless evidence which leaves most of humankind in awe.



Bleeding inside, bleeding out,
As the crescendo of screams- continues to spurt,
Into the cacophonies of a tidal wave-
The numb denials give way,
To the rawness of reality
And yet the dream lives on, born
From all of yesterday's tragedies,
With alarming frequency
The chaos and pain, that has been,
Is forgotten or twisted, into something,
New and unrecognisable.
So the blood-letting under the sky continues,
With ignorant and blinkered cycles,
Of blood-lust and power-lust,
Moving on ever forward, along the same path;
Is there a utopia we are building with our blood
Or is there a dystopia we are constructing with our greed?
From time immemorial, humanity has been on a quest.


Thursday, 28 March 2013


The old tales and myths of retribution give testimony,
To the end ways of absolute and utter confusion-
Mirages of fear and hope merge into fateful collisions
And become dangerous dreams that inspire simple decisions-
Follow the brave mind and never let the heart falter-
Quiet the pride and meet destiny with the embrace of honour.


Sunday, 24 March 2013

Brutal Ingenuity

Demons and angels fight in degrees,
Over the destiny of the diseased,
The helpless hunters of misfortune,
Engage in conflicts of fateful distortion.
The mourning of losses incur,
In the sweetest victories from death-
Fuel for fires which does not deter-
Hatred and a shameless killing stealth.
These tokens of living for the defeated
Dead, In plays of carnage easily created-
Carving out a moral phase of superiority,
To enable brutal ingenuity;
Forceful assertions of truths,
Taken from the depth of painful wounds,
The games of the living against the ways,
Of the dead and dying on foolish days.


Saturday, 23 March 2013

The Shades of a Day- a short story

As the mourners left, Basheera became aware of the sound of crying.  She looked around at the other members of her family, there was no one else left except the three of them.  Her husband and sister stood silently by her side, lost deep in thought.  She felt a bit confused, where was the sound coming from?  As they all stood behind the little wall that looked into the graveyard, she heard it again.  It sounded like a cat, or a young child crying.  She looked at the shrinking figure of her niece's back, as hand in hand she walked away with her father, Basheera's brother Benaris.  Basheera called out to him, 'Is Shahin okay?'

He turned and nodded as he shouted back, 'Yes, she is.  She's fine.'  He paused and then just before he turned away, he shouted, 'We'll see you back at home in a bit? Make sure you leave on time, or you'll get stuck in the city centre.  Make sure you take the Old-heath route.'

Basheera nodded and was calmed by the face of her niece as she too looked back towards her.  She seemed quiet but didn't look to be crying or overly upset.  Then she turned her face away and both father and daughter walked to their car.  Basheera turned to look back at the grave again.  It was a sad occasion but it felt peaceful.  Though they were upset that their beloved aunt would never again be present at their family gatherings, her death was actually a relief.  It had been a bitter experience to watch her wilt before their very eyes- suddenly her thoughts were interrupted, there it was again, that sound.

She turned to look at her husband and sister who stood alongside her,

'Did you hear that?' She asked them both, feeling irritated, she felt she was imaging it but they both stared back at her and nodded.

'I thought it was Shahin...'  she started and let the words hang, as the sound was heard again.

'I just heard it now,'  replied her sister Laila, 'it sounds like an injured animal or something, maybe it's a cat?'

'Yes, it probably is,' her husband said in a quiet voice, 'Come on, we'd better get going, we don't want to get stuck in traffic, they'll all be waiting for us at the house.'

'No, let's just see what it is first Raheem,' she said as she started to walk around the graveyard, towards a group of trees behind it.  'Maybe we could help it? I hate the idea of walking away from an injured animal.'

'You're just wasting time Basheera, even if it is hurt, what can we do about it?  There will be people waiting for us to return...'  His voice trailed off and he didn't finish the sentence but he didn't walk away either.

Basheera felt a stab of pain, as she started walking towards the trees, scanning the ground as she did so.  His aunt had been the closest thing that he'd ever had to a mother.  She felt that familiar pang as her own pain resurfaced.  Eighteen years of marriage and endless bouts of expensive treatments and still no child to show for it.  It felt like her heart was being eaten by little maggots from within because she knew that being an only child, he had been desperate to start a family, right from the beginning of their marriage.  She felt like such a flawed and useless woman.  Though it had felt like she'd been slicing her own heart up, she had encouraged him to get remarried.  It was allowed.  She didn't want to share him with anyone but she couldn't live with the idea that her inadequacy was stopping him from having the one thing that he'd always wanted, a family of his own.

'He's right Sheera- come on, you're just wasting time- they'll all be waiting!' Laila said, not bothering to conceal the irritation in her voice.  This was just typical, she could just never understand why it was so hard for Sheera to turn away from a needy situation.  Other people would run a mile but Sheera was such a sucker, she could never say no, or walk away.  No wonder her husband was potty about her.  Though they'd had their share of heartache, Laila often wondered if Shira knew just how lucky she was to have a man like that.  She wished her husband was like.  She often thought that it was perhaps because Raheem didn't have any family of his own that he was so good to Sheera and all her relatives.

Basheera was lost in her own thoughts as she made he way to the clump of trees.  She had made her mind up.  Even though he had resisted it so much, she was adamant, today she was going to go back to the house and insist that he find someone else to marry.  If need be, she would help him to find the new co-wife.  She had made up her mind about it but that didn't stop her from wanting to go and hide somewhere and cry for a long time.  As she moved towards the back of one of the trees, she suddenly jumped back, startled at the sight of a stray dog eating something from the ground.  Her husband and sister had both been watching her and started to walk towards her,

'What is it?' Raheem asked her.

'Nothing, it's just a dog, it was eating something from the ground, I didn't expect to see it.'  She answered him.

'What kind of dog is it?' Asked Laila.

'I don't know, a big skinny dog but it's run off now.'  Replied Basheera.

'Okay, lets go then, that's all it probably was then.'  Her sister said, as she began to walk away, 'Come on, let's go, they'll be loads of people waiting for us!'

'Yes, come on.'  Said Raheem quietly, as he turned to walk away too.

'No, let me just see what it was eating,' Basheera said, 'then I'll come.'

They both stopped and watched he walk out of sight behind the tree.

She thought she saw movement on the ground, there was rubbish mixed in between the dead leaves and the mud.  An old crisp packet, a plastic bag and tawdry coloured packaging.  She used her foot to move the debris away.

Suddenly, she screamed and fell to ground, sobbing, 'Oh my God! Oh dear God!'

Raheem and Laila both dashed frantically the few yards towards her and skidded to a halt behind her. she was crouching on the ground and trying to lift something, as they both peered over her head to get a better look, she said, 'Oh dear God! It's a baby!  A baby!  The dog was eating it's hand!'

Incredulous and shocked, they stood and watched in horror as she picked up the child.  They watched in silence but then Laila started to sob and then Raheem too, as they saw her lift a naked, bruised and barely breathing baby.  It was hard to tell if he was a few hours, or a few days old.  His skin was peeling and his body bruised and grey.  His hand was bleeding and the skin shredded and pulped, from where the dog had been eating him, he half opened his big eyes.

'Quickly!  Quickly!  We must get him to a hospital!' Her husband shouted, 'Ya Allah!  What kind of people can do this?!'  His voice broke with anguish.  So many years, they had cried just to be able to hold a child like this and yet someone had thrown this brand new life away as if it was garbage.

Dazed and sobbing, Basheera held the child to her chest, she could hear his rasping breath and as she held him close, she once again heard the whimpering cry she had heard before.  She felt herself overwhelmed in a way that she had never experienced before.  She could not think straight but she knew that she never let go of this child.


Sunday, 17 March 2013


A sound, a smell and strong words or pictures,
Of moving visions and forgotten but lived in scriptures-
Moods that the trigger pulls back from peacefulness,
Into the awful place of crazed but utter helplessness,
To come to a hurting heart and from a broken mind;
The ever moving persistence of the nature of time,
Brings back to the here and now, to forever grow,
A calm which only an old spirit can ever truly know.



I have seen the dark,
I have seen the light,
I have love,
I have fight,
Yes I'm alive!

And let the Universe,
Rejoice with me.


Tuesday, 12 March 2013


To be told
That dust is a small dirt
To be told
That a slight is a mere hurt
The consequences
Of the minute-
belie the reality
Of universal truths.
To destroy the essence
Of infinity,
Is the careless premise
Of idiocy.
Betrayal takes no time-
Assaults emit
moments gargantuan
of painful echoes
That spin
Through eternity
To test forever
The survivor's security.


Monday, 11 March 2013


I don't like you.
But I wish you well,
I wish you ease-
I wish you joy
And I wish you peace.
Your problem, if you don't understand
Words which come from my heart
Displaying a different kind of worldly essence-
Which, from your 'normal' does part.
Something- that you may well never understand,
As it is confusion you draw from my very presence.


Saturday, 9 March 2013


The violent, hot air that is the damaged man- a father,
Supersedes the quiet dignity of that upon which he does stand-
Yet time always reveals the truth- nothing but the whole truth:

The real power of the entire world lies,
In the patient love of the woman that cries-

The tears of pain and frustration, are signs of dedication-
An understanding of the Universe and of all human civilisation;

People hide the realities of existence in games of subjugation.


Tuesday, 5 March 2013


Through the mountains of danger-
Boils insidious, scathing, hot anger,
The feet stumble onwards, blistered
And the hands toil forwards, scalded,
The ever growing fires which so afflict
And leave within every soul a conflict-
Must be ever resisted as a holy struggle,
Despite the rage and pain of dis-ease,
Even when the fierce blaze of trouble-
Scorches everything with eloquent ease.


Saturday, 2 March 2013

A Fake Death

It's hard, to stand upright,
When the thorn in your side-
Stabs and stings all the time,
It's hard not to look back in anger-
When the past won't die
And leave you alone.
It's hard to look forward,
With all the obstructions
Covering your path.
In time, the pain becomes numb
And normal is a fake death;
Living but not quite,
The juxtapositions of a hard life.



If the real world was a different place,
Then the walls of indifference would be out of place.

This weakness that flows through all of the universe,
Makes for the balance and creation of the universe.

Though the unseen scars are evidence of the struggles of a life,
The puzzles and pathways of power, obscure the realities of life.

In eternal hope we trust and hold onto, with the might of all our fears,
The future is bright, as the trust in truth helps us to overcome our fears.



Friday, 1 March 2013

Iridescent Truth

The truth; always enigmatic,
Forever elusive and iridescent,
Is revealed, sooner or later-
Whether the shades of time
Pro-actively bury it, or not.

Under every rejuvenating sunrise
And every determined sunset-
The days show, regardless of place
And in irrelevance of time and way;
The honest nature of every living entity.