Monday, February 25, 2013

The Light


Into a forest I forayed

Of forbidden fancies and frills

I planted flowers all the way

So if I came back one fine day

After quenching my thirst for thrills

I would have my return well-laid.



Along those lanes I lighted too

A lantern with its lowered flame

So when I was headed homeward

That beacon would bear me toward

The answers of my noble aim

And I was ready with my cue.



So when the milestones on my map

Hovered on me with hazy hues

I scampered backward for my soul

With blisters from the burning coal

On paths where I had been let loose

And darkness on my mind enwrapped.



Traveling on treacherous trail

I found where my flowers once stood

They had now wilted in the wind

Their petals had now dried and thinned

And everything that was once good

A dirty sense did now entail.



I faltered, fell and fumbled for

A sense of familiarity

With where I was, with what I was

But I had scattered like the stars

And every piece with parity

Was nothing I was looking for.



And far away I saw there shined

The lamp lighted and resplendent

I moved toward it with my might

Yearning for this beacon in sight

With a radiance so scintillant

So stately and so well-defined.



My flowers faded but my light

It gets me going everyday

The fortune of my fervent faith

Has been with me: beloved mate

And with my closed eyes when I lay

I only have this light in sight.


Note: Inspired by Surah-An-Noor http://goo.gl/tQiFQ

Image Source: http://goo.gl/rRxvJ










Saturday, February 23, 2013

Mirrors


Mirror never lies


This corner of my cosy house

Holds up a solid mirror

I dare not go anywhere near

For I may die of horror.



The mirror in the marketplace

Gives me the nicest of looks

The library has window panes

That wink at me between books.



Something it is with my mirrors

That we are not so friendly

I get a smirk back when I smile

Their looks are so fiendly.



I carry a round little one

In my perfumed, pretty purse

But when I bring it up to see

Some resentment it does nurse.



I stop by my relative's place

For occasional greeting

And the mirror at her home says

It was a pleasure meeting.



Something it is with my mirrors

That know my dirty insides

They find no pleasure meeting me

And I don't like them - besides.



I look into the eyes of my

Beloved and sweet lover

And what reflects is not my face

But a pathetic blunder.



Just yesterday I went swimming

The waters smiled back at me

But walking into changing rooms

I saw a ghost beside me.



Thinking now I feel it is not

The mirrors that are smirking

It is just my muddy soul

That's on my shoulder lurking.


Picture Source: http://goo.gl/MZUO7

Friday, February 22, 2013

Zuleikha



Part I


Her Highness - when she walked the earth

Blooming flowers forgot their worth

Her charming face - a dream come true

When soft winds on her visage blew

Her loveliness and intellect

A lot of lovers did collect.



His Highness was a righteous man

Minister of a worthy clan

His love was like a thousand things

That spring to every garden brings

Never did his sweet love decrease

Thus was minister Al-Aziz.



Her Highness like a lady true

Made ways for his love to renew

But in her womb she grew no child

She worried some, but Aziz smiled

His love needed no progeny

He placated her agony.



But as his age advanced a few

He needed a son too, he knew

In time he crossed a market place

And saw a slave with charming grace

A face that shone in glowing light

And eyes like none other - so bright.



He brought this young lad home with him

And catered to his every whim

This was the son he never had

Looking at him he was so glad!

unto his wife he said the same

So that is what the slave became.



Part II



Her Highness and her character

Their beauty grew like no other

She walked gardens and wore her silk

Her skin - like cream floating on milk

And Al-Aziz - the minister

Continued to administer.



The boy (Yusuf) was handsome too

With character and eyes so true

God-fearing, he was a delight

A strange beauty - wonderful sight

He served his master like a son

And soon was his beloved one.



But Satan played his part so well

In noble hearts he loves to dwell

So in the heart of Her Highness

He kindled a fiery furnace

That made her long for Yusuf's care

And such feelings her heart did bear.



No matter what Her Highness did

The passion that she could not rid

Kept growing in her smitten heart

Until it tore her soul apart

Scheming ways to earn his fancy

Emotions running a frenzy.



And soon Her Highness got her chance

A feat unworthy of her stance

Finding him alone in the room

Allowed her passion to resume

Choosing the path of seduction

Tried to lead him to temptation.



Part III



Her Highness was so beautiful

The face and eyes so wonderful

But Yusuf who was clean and pure

Did not give in to this allure

And when he headed for the door

A piece of shirt she pulled and tore.



And on the other side there stood

Aziz and all his servants good

So caught suddenly in this game

Her Highness chose to save her name

She told her husband what it was

She told him Yusuf was the cause.



But Yusuf pleaded innocence

And what he said did make some sense

The shirt was torn from the behind

And this is what the group did find

Her Highness and her shame now found

She hung her face to face the ground.



Part IV



Her Highness was a noble soul

No matter how she did console

Her heart was given to the man

Who did not fall into her plan

She thought of ways to avenge him

For not giving in to her whim.



Her Highness and her shameful act

It kept her passion still intact

And knowing she could not resist

To her husband she did insist

Let Yusuf be taken to gaol

And that is how her love would fail.



With Yusuf now taken away

Her Highness was no more so gay

She wandered around with her guilt

And everyday her soul did wilt

She turned everywhere in despair

But her sad heart knew no repair.



Part V



Her Highness and her beauty now

Was gone, with wrinkles on her brow

Her body, once so plush was frail

Her lips now bent in downward trail

She walked the earth so laden by

Her heavy heart that made her cry.



Her Highness spent so many years

With this guilt and with these tears

Until one day she was summoned

To talk of what Yusuf had done

What was the crime for which he had

Been sent behind the bars so bad?



Her Highness tired of her shame

She chose to take up rightful blame

It was her love that made her err

She had punished him for his flair

Yusuf had no crime after all

It was her fault, it was her fall.



They say when you sin and repent

You are like one who never went

Away from guided paths of faith

And though this was no love too great

It still had suffering and pain

The kind of pain one would disdain.



Her Highness, no one knows of her

What happened afterward to her

Thus was the love of Her Highness

Stooped from her ranks to brazenness

Repenting though she then became

The lover who accepted blame.    



Note: I have no knowledge save what was revealed in the Quran. This poem is my own figment of imagination from a part of the wonderful story of Surah Yusuf. The story of Yusuf (Joseph) peace be upon him has never ceased to move me. This is my take on unrequited love. Details on the real story as related in the Quran can be found here: http://goo.gl/I72az


Picture source: http://goo.gl/weQAM

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Writer's Block



When thoughts do not flow

When they are fastened

To the boundaries

Of imagination

And your innermost

Feelings are pounding

The doors of your mind.



And the wretched sense

Of disappointment

Makes you lose focus

On everything around

All you want is to

Spill thoughts on paper

And leave them behind.



When the beginning

Meets no logical

End, you leave that thought

Like a loose flying kite

And scribbled thoughts stay

Whining, protesting

On paper - unsigned.



And the rhymes do not

Fall in place like they

Have turned their faces

From your dreary lifestyle

Of surviving with

No deep reflections

And no peace of mind.



When your vision is

Reduced to mere sight

How can poetry

Flow like a smooth river

Interrupted by

Your rocky insides

That keep it confined?