She Afghanistanee

-
Winds blow across
A tear stained face behind a veil
Scorched as her standing ground
With bruised hands & feet

Deprive & distraught
Make the day
Amidst despair
Her only hope is in Allah

Walks midst the fragments of joy
Along the ruins of emptiness
Forsaken & forgotten.
#vss365

Comments

Post a Comment

I am humbled you found pleasure in writing back.

Popular posts from this blog

I am a Poet

-
Image
 Ostensibly, it all feels like; "I've known voices of the wind  and maybe all it's journeys,  it's melodies of melancholy that ears may never hear  blowing passed blooming faces of those who only feel it's soothe but not the inconsolable sobs it carries on from faces of those  who can't even remember how  and when they last smiled, those to whom happiness is just a dream." I've got great feelings, of acquaintance with  every falling droplet of rain,  vehemently hiting the ground  splitting into thousands of  other splashes of driblets and all the autumn leaves floating on waves of headwinds  I feel every single pain in their voices  on their journeys set for demise I find my self reciting rythimic surahs into melodic euological verses,  for the friends gone too soon.  With no moon, I'm stuck in my own realm nary a wanning crescent  with a bunch of wistful emotions cracking tales down told by burning flames whispe...
Unfold »

Lachrymal Potrait

-
Image
Our love story begins a time and moment I let you go a day I walk through that back door footsteps marked by trails of driblets feelings over brims of my entrails spilt all around like grains of sand sinking down like sands of time a one way ticket trip to greyscales haunted shadows of our phobias. The wind seems colder out here quite reclessier in your absentia I hold fingers out for a search stroll over tips and nibs of broken pencils  only a brash but not a droplet of ink with ink from a lachrymal fountain I cast lashes and strokes of driblets adroitly tracing your pretty face into a tear stained painting.    Everyday I stand in front of a mirror is a Halloween it's freaky Friday glancing at my own reflectance I see not less than a fierce archer thrilled more than I'm lost in dread and the unprecedented nightmares  to see my other self with own hands tearing down all that we've built  turning everything around me into a world of broken dreams. Now that I've k...
Unfold »

Minute Maid (Kadama Tales)

-
Image
 All along allover and moreover over dunes among raging sand storms in the middle of the East under wrath of a merciless sun just to savour milk off a dirty cup, fate of a minute's maid. Wistful toes kissing sharp sand grains laid over an earth thirsty for sweat carried on by a november spiral wind dehydrating what's left of the wails of her inconsolable despair, wilts not, keeps guards up. Twisted twice in bruises of toil all around the clock hunches her back reminiscent of a painful past, an anxious present and worries of the unpredictable worse, that's yet to come. All along allover and moreover over the Sahara to the pearl flowing in bountiful flows of milk & honey. holding onto a smile deep from with in coming home to mama. Brusque smiles from a distant rainy eyes for toils of vanity Where is her sweat? were all the pictures sent a deceit? Her heart shutters In front of her who carried her for nine months. What's that that's worth a worth, worth fighting an...
Unfold »