Half-Drowned Rock

This is a short story about you and me,
It starts with a chapter about a beach,
Filled with birds, rocks, sand, and sea,
Summarised in these few lines to teach.

A young curious bird approached me,
I was sitting still cross-legged for hours,
Glancing at the wonders of the vast sea,
He questions about your kind and ours’.

“What part of this beach do you like most?”
“Rocks that are half-below-half- over -the-sea.”
The water is but the temporary life (lost),
The sand is divided preaching the word ‘free’.

Conversely, the rock is made up of sand,
Though united within one solid entity,
Not drowned in this life and left to strand,
Lost and delusional; no purpose nor identity.

And not into worship without a nice rest,
From this temporary life completely away,
For Allah likes to see His blessings stressed,
Thus, my rock is the choice of pray and play.

The curious bird stood still as if a gnome,
Listening to the profound disclosed novel,
It has ended so now you can go home,
Recall, this is only a chapter from a novel.

Saturday, 17th of December 2011


Striving Civilisation

Trends and calamities will prevail in a chaotic city,
Reach an uncertain sector, a university, to infect,
Uncivilised despite the adequacy of data feasts,
And hence my seclusion to a natural wilderness.

Beaches filled with sand, rocks, birds and water,
No humans if I timed it correctly; cold rainy nights,
Just me and them drawn together as if an entity,
Our lengthy conversations are mere observations.

I retreat if when the ocean intimidates my feet,
I disparage small rocks fallen from majestic cliffs,
The sand accepts my toes to produce blueprints,
Whity foams glide to enter the gate of insanity.

Birds asked me: “Which part of it do you like?”
I answered: “The rock whose half above water.”
To know why I adore the half-drowned rocks
You have to have patience and wait for a novel.

Sunday, 4th of December 2011


At a Crossroad

Soul’s only comfort is to feel the grains of sand,
Taken from Land of purity, serenity, and charm,
Longing to meet my elegant people in the Land,
The Land is over the seas and under the storms.

Once upon a whole new world resides a flower,
In territories further up north from the original,
But self’s Origin is, from it just a bit northwest,
Saddened by fate separating flower from Land.

I have arrived at a crossroad of copious paths,
I should take that of the Land, albeit tortuous,
Me united with the northern flower is up to fate,
Although, new flowers do continuously blossom.

Monday, 7th of November 2011


Day 20 of Mission 43

It is a night like this that the elders feared,
Look at the glowing moon how blue it is,
And a subtle wind with a bloody odour,
Lost weapons, armours, both mine and his.

We are born fibbers and fearless hunters,
Though, tonight is not ours to speak falsely,
And albeit he is lazing alone against the rock,
His body so tense and agitated immensely.

Tomorrow we wait for the calm breeze,
And bid farewell to this old black forest,
Only to return and continue our mission,
Assassinating him and his sons we arrest.

Thursday, 20th of October 2011


Searching for You

Trickling rain and thunderous lightning,

Whispering wind and rustling leaves,
Concealed moon and dark forests,
Murky night and black creatures.

Damp soil and central campfire,
Upright tents and crackling sticks,
Breathing deep and silent tears,
Seven men and eighth inscribing.

Weary brain and ashen heart,
Painful chest and burning eyes,
Calloused feet and quivering hands,
Empty hugs and forlorn kisses.

O’ wind O’ wind convey my words,
O’ echo O’ echo tell us how far we go,
O’ wife, O’ love, O’ pure lady,
O’ where my wife? Where are you?

Saturday, 08th of October 2011


Made to Trade?

A learned speaker once told me to be direct,

I would assume he was a professor of shade,
Painting my quality through an iron object,
Or pottery of poetry within castles to be made,
So I did, hidden symbolic letters to resurrect,
Whilst my deep secret passions I so forbade,
Strangers of unknown origins eyes to suspect,
For the innocence of one’s self has decayed,
Apart from that I wrote outdoors to recollect,
Earth Whisperers hinting for a danger to evade,
For a direct poem I needed a subject to select,
Here, a couple of shiny dirhams for us to trade.

Thursday, 15th of September 2011



The Time has deceived new fleshes and one diamond,

This delicate carbon’s radioactivity burnt many fruits,
This despicable leaf regrew its stalk but soon to shatter,
Broken heart, boiled brains, blasted limbs for star’s trash,
Infamous galleries selling unwanted portraits of lazy wells,
And I have spoken to Time to rewind; to reverse; to delete,
Though, it seems a fruit welded the broken iron chains,
And its flesh has become ghastly dwelling on rotten mud,
And sounds of wisdom call for followers to retrieve it,
Except, the eminent Time has now gathered a crown.

Friday, 14th January 2011


At the Bus

I just arrived at the bus stop tired as she took off,
Waited for an express route to reach before her,
But our meeting had to be postponed another day,
My mind soon forgot her as days turned into years,
Then, thirteen past five in the afternoon I saw her,
Just missed the bus I was in as she ran to the stop,
I kept my eyes on her figure as she blurred away,
Far into the horizon hoping she would catch up,
But the heart left a small hope until the next day,
Or so I thought; yet, in reality it took extra years,
Another forgotten memory relapsed in a bus,
The official meeting, or so I dreamed or imagined,
Suffice to say, it was on that precise bus I met her,
Indeed, a meeting of many meanings or none at all,
It was fully crowded and no seats were available,
I walked to the end and stood as she did, too,
And there I was standing a breath away from her,
She kept looking at me straight into my eyes,
We stayed like this for the entire scenic journey,
No vast questions asked no vast answers inquired,
Then, I parted away into my own little life; normal.
Friday, 27th of May 2011


On the Low Cliff

Soon will he desert his post after such a long time,
A reason I do not recognize as he only looks there.

Can you see the horizon? The place of dusk’s rebirth,
I figured maybe a mystical sea drawing him to gaze,
Or insanity driving him to believe in mythical creatures,
Or just waiting; longing for a friend on a vast ship.

I have shouted with a couple of rocks I have thrown,
Yet, to him I was a gust of wind passing by as a whisper,
No message is carried and no message will be sent,
Just his eyes darting onto the horizon for the setting Sun.

A reason I want to understand eradicating this haze,
My small wooden ship that I sail would not distract him,
Nor the everlasting errands I am shouting to the crew,
Will he not share his hardship? Will he ever end his stare?

Friday, 12th of August 2011


Remember Yesterday!

Have I ever wondered around here as a little kid?
Walking, jumping, or would you call that skipping?
There was sand – quite a lot, as a matter-of-fact,
Mixed with gravels, though I was not there alone!

Who was I with at that warm humid sunny noon?
Was I there to play or– what on earth was I doing?
I cannot recall this long palm tree with fallen dates,
Or that tent, which, in my opinion, looks ancient!

It must be a school trip or something, was it now?
But, why can I remember the vast amount of sand?
Wait, I was holding something extremely valuable,
Some sort of fancy inscription: the bottled letter!

Thursday, 21st of July 2011


To Her

Her dazzling brown eyes darted onto the unwelcomed fashion,
Pureness from life, a diamond, a pearl, a glistening entity so rare,
A cute girl, a majestic lady, a surreal angel, an Earth Whisperer,
And I am her loyal servant, her guardian, her powerful shield.

Fashions for the ill-minded too daft to read and show respect,
They and her clash for a moment or two to explain and submit,
Baffled yet aware of their mistakes bow to her royalty in shame,
I, an observer behind sunglasses, in agreement with her soul.

Indeed, the world tests us by estranging our people, our minds,
And greatness has multiple faces with distinct consequences,
Thus, meeting a deserted entity fighting for loathsome fashion,
A battle to come. No wins. No losses. But a plain defiant sign.

She, on the other hand, speaks honestly from heart to reach,
Advice given with no cost to the lost, confused or even well,
To her, I have engraved my thoughts, my words, my poem,
In hope of finding others to serve, guard, shield as I do to her.

Wednesday, 20th of July 2011


People and I

Age with infamous Time and a bit of coincidence,
Led to the twisted establishment of rare people,
Soon to become in moralities: identical, forgetful,
In imaging techniques: extraordinary, deplorable,
In personality: questions and absolute confusions,
Many whom I have walked past; none have I met,
And so I be, a person shaped into another being,
These long-lasting writing have almost tricked me,
No further will I generate a personality out of me,
Personifying a personification I found on the streets,
If so be it, me - an individual of you, quite homeless.

Sunday, 19th of June 2011


Haah in Winter

Haah, a circular trend on a transparent window,
A dot here and another with a concave up; smile,
Haah, a bigger geometrical shape yet so similar,
A heart and a moment of calm, nothing to recall.

Haah, boredom overcame my numb emotions,
Wiping the window with two fingers; very chilly,
Haah, this time onto my fine fingertips to warm,
Then gazing outside at tonight’s busy city streets.

Haah, a talented sigh measuring pitch of sounds,
The driver on my left, a friend, took a right turn,
Haah, it was his’, louder with a deep emphasis,
I guess he was tired of driving for a day’s journey.

Sunday, 12th of June 2011


Hand Unit at Sydney Hospital

I observed my kind hands for over twenty-three years,
But not as erudite as in the past four exquisite weeks,
I touched the high ceilings and walked on warm roofs,
Or so I tried as if no books to read or learn or lecture,
Rather, reasons did encircle the everlasting calligraphy,
Thus, under today’s wise men I pursue deep footprints,
With the delicate women’s hands in the field observing,
Together, an elegant team; hand unit at Sydney Hospital.

Tuesday, 7th of June 2011



His questions came out of nowhere as if now and here,
I stood on a wooden bridge in the middle of somewhere,
Yes, it was here and now that his power and pride rose,
Against the vulnerable circle of life living another century.

He asked me about the twelve months of our short year,
I answered with alphanumerical equations signifying nil,
Yes, short but nothing of great importance for his likes,
To him life and death are but particles of grains of sand.

He asked me about twenty four hours and a day’s misery,
Rather rhetorical, or that what it seemed for I was silent,
Yes, hours of rhetorical movements of his limbs on lands,
And slaves of the fields invade this little wooden bridge.

Wednesday, 1st of June 2011


Two of One

He insisted on calling towards me,
I, on the other hand, was focussed,
Onto a being of colourful canvas,
He went to greet her as I walked,
The little girl with a pearl earring,
He opened his mouth as to speak,
I shut it awkwardly gazing distantly,
His urge let him hum a long song,
As I walked across the idle street,
He twitched and glimpsed back,
He shook my body aggressively,
And tried to detach for a second,
Excruciating pain causing numbness,
But without any fruitful outcome,
Tamed into a domestic kitten,
Hugging for a forgotten memory.

Wednesday, 25th of May 2011


Tea With Milk

He turned a page, read for a bit, then bookmarked it,
He then stood and knocked on the door; my door,
I opened it and invited him to a cup of tea with milk,
He took a step then stood still and opened his mouth,
I tilted my head just a bit to show that I will listen,
But he closed it and continued walking to the table.

I sat on the carpet crossing my legs as he did, too,
He folded his arms as if cold then picked up the cup,
And sipped whilst glaring at me through the steam,
He placed the teacup back to its saucepan, ‘cling’,
He opened his mouth and spoke of the past; history,
I fixed few errs and agreed on many series of events.

He spoke of tomorrow and I disagreed on everything,
He spoke of marriage, of weddings and a bit of love,
He spoke of copious grandchildren and a bit of love,
He spoke of age and time and death and a bit of love,
His warm proud gaze broke itself into the self of me,
Aware of the mirror in front of me as I take another sip.

Tuesday, 24th of May 2011



“Him, I, he, it, and is will become one or two!”
Have I written this down so many times before,
And so did he, a person, an entity of all names,
I went further as I did before and listened, hmm?
Things of distinct value referring back to him,
He, on the other hand, had an awkward hand,
Moving as I show significant control and power,
Yet, he tries and wonders – still does – he or it,
To him I am I, and I am but my own dictator,
He assumes that I always walked on his path,
Inadvertently, it is he who constantly follows,
Him, he, it or I, an entity of all names, so rare!

Monday, 9th of May 2011


Patient Without a History

I saw him pale-faced and shaking, eyes bulging out,
He ignored my welcome and presence in its entirety,
I stood stunned, static; took a step back, maybe two,
Asked, consented. Waited, then for a flash of a second–
He glared; studied my gesture, my smile, my blood,
The other second was his rejection folding his arms,
I saw him still pale-faced, shaking, but eyes full of grief,
Patient without a history, but utterly comprehensible.

Wednesday, 4th of May 2011



Speak to me about your world today. Tell me, once more.
Ideally, you should quit this blabbering; though you love.

Yes, and more; you and me, swim in your world. Explain!
Once more it is, I guess, and then peace to you forever.

So, how did it start? No wait! Tell me your world in future!
Yes, future is in your little mind, and explain is what you want.

No, yes, you guess, and you and I were here and there.
You and I were once there and here then over and under.

What do you say I speak first and then you can add.
Add syllables of meaningless words to create nothing but you?

Me, a heart, full of emotions and yet you speak of love?
I listen and I quote, and I wait and I act, but I never mask.

A pathetic act is a mere mask, but speak of love, now!
Now is where my world is and start now to continue later.

No, the so-called future is what all you think and never discuss.
Then become a vendetta, a blabbering icon of lawless love.

A great story untold, I believe, fabricated to your kind.
My kind and yours will continue to exist inside him with love.

You, out of all the organs, should never use that word.
I understand! The mind is in combat against your heartily love.

Stop this and seize my heart and become me for now.
What? No! Why? Merciless! But, could you really believe this?

You listen and you quote, so tell me what have I said!
I cannot, though, what is the reason? Scared? No! No way.

Did you know that you are adding meaningless syllables?
Wait............ yes, we are we, you and I, entities but an entity.

Tuesday, 3rd of May 2011


Emotional Collision

I rarely publish personal poems that are easy to understand without the use of metaphors and/or similes such as this one; titled 'Emotional Collision'. I am currently in conflict whether to share this poem or not. For now, I will keep it hidden, but I will share its contents. [deleted] I write this to let my readers recognise this poem since it is important to me. Maybe, too important or too scared for me to share. Yes, maybe both, but scared for sure.

Sunday, 1st of May 2011


Feelings Unheard

When the lousy star competes with the mother moon,
And when all emotions strangle the sense of unification,
Past tense evolved and short-term memory loss initiated,
Enormous yachts marched into water dunes joyously,
Still, with all of the universe’s stars assessing his actions,
And posting smiles onto the houses, yet, few understand-

Understand the participation of the moon in his life,
A fulfilling sensation between two orbiting entities-

Copious untold stories with insecurities and hidden tales of forlorn entities.

One day, listen and take notes.

Wednesday, 13th of April 2011


A Trip

I spent days figuring how to get out of this nest,
Along came an entity picking my fruitful youth,
Demonstrating paths of mesmerizing adventure,
Falling into another nest; distinct and foreign.

Flying over cliffs as if angels through the clouds,
Telling of things with black and white affinities,
And after long admiration they appeared distant,
Dwelling next to tall clueless farmer’s cannabis.

After night’s time was edible and a few yelps,
I gazed onto the sails, the beaches, the wells,
Remoteness allured the entity, though, in vain,
And I stood beside it cheerfully attending to care.

Saturday, 9th of April 2011


Time to Understand

Whisper to your earthly self to elevate rather than relegate,
Share experiences of voiced practices empowering another,
Prepare speeches for the beasts about the beasts to unwind,
Scrutinize antique scripts of geographic geometric calligraphy.

Wait a moment or two and allow me to rewind an era or two.

Open-mindedness as described by the falling autumn leaves
Was but a source of hardship and agony. For an era or two
They have demonstrated the errs of beasts. And yet, for us
It was regarded as the future of this downhill path. For me
And many other storytellers we wait to stabilise these lines.

Where were we? In a sorrowful abyss? Or a fruitful garden?

Walk along newspapers and mingle with words to absorb,
Stand on hills and gaze with your eyes on leaves to reflect,
And present your perfect teeth to the lost mindful hearts.

Thursday, 24th of March 2011


The Time of an Era

Whimpering wishes on wild wolves: Earth Whisperers,
Soaring over the study of scriptures and of symbols,
Perhaps, a petite period preaching the puzzled poor,
Or Time terminated the telling of a torn tale of trees,
Too timorous to tinkle their trunks as Time trembles.

A nature’s niche of naivety of noble nomads nimble,
Calling for continuous contemporary commitments,
To get the great goals and gallop on gorgeous gold,
Mighty men march into the marshlands and murmur,
Muttering melodiously to the most modest of men.

The errand of an eerie era is to eat the errs of Earth,
Yet, horrendous hostiles haunt humble holy humans,
Between the brutal battles bewildering the brainless,
And respectful rubies return to their realm rapturous,
Roaring their role in the remarkable robust resistance.

Sunday, 6th of March 2011


Words for You

Speak voices of thunder to scar your lips,
Shout deafening silences across horizons,
Let prudent persons of life pay attention,
Allow the ears to accept earth whisperers,
Repeat the words for your heart’s content,
Cause an eruption to the mindless beasts,
Pray for yourself and for the less fortunate,
Letters of sword stab the eyes to shed tears,
Wound the tongue to mutter less and more,
Ordain the brain to serenity and prostrate,
Redeem your life from this imprisonment,
Demean yourself to the One the Only One.

Tuesday, 15th of February 2011


Your Days and Mine

Talk to me loud and clear about your days,
The sun and trees; what nature conveys,
Dust sweeping the lands revealing a woe,
Is this the truth, tell me what you know,
The sky and the water as blue as this paint,
And breathe that air without having to faint,
I have heard of fresh and healthy greens,
And fruits full of flavours perfecting cuisines,
How were they made- oh right, it is hopeless,
I know that my purpose is just to live aimless,
But you know that the footprints I leave behind,
Need to be enormously large for people to find,
And ever I saw your ancient eyes I dreamed,
The days of peace where my heart screamed,
Tell me one more time about the true way,
That I can serenely follow without going astray,
And lead a nation’s people to worship Him,
With His mercy going to light from dim.

Sunday, 6th of February 2011


Losing Identity

Walking amidst standing vivid trees falling gloomy leaves,
Reaching the murky waters whispering sacred symbols,
Weary yet carrying debts and caring for none but few,
Frequent flyers gaze on this new naked rotten part of bark,
Dancing rigorously dislocating arms and a star’s trickery,
Our leaves and yours; fascinated yet lost in black mazes,
A foot there and another drinking on thirsty tombs,
I stood on hills calling for listeners of identity retrievers,
Odd I might be, but a person with mind, body and soul,
And a tongue forged within the ancient blessed trees,
A lost item inside copious plants decorating the mud,
Still whispering hallowed codes frowning at fancy twinkles,
Thieves soaring over mausoleums borrowing wild leaves,
Never to return as a born leaf but a putrid grassy thief,
Forgotten Earth Whisperers die of poverty and hunger,
I keep touching them for remembrance; annual festivity,
If only Earth Whisperers were inhaled by those thieves,
If only the hill I am standing on was but a soulless monster,
Driving the persistent mirages out of the diseased eyes,
There I built a connecting bond between this tree and that,
Abseiling, jumping, and climbing for years turning antique,
But seizing the solid cable as I return to Hope of Whisperers,
Patience acquired whilst dwelling on barks of tall trees,
Pitying the falling leaves turning into stars of the mud,
Still whispering ancient symbols and to you I murmur “...”.

Friday, 14th of January 2011



Step one – step two – block then attack,
Step three – step four – and then launch,
Step five– *RING RING* just hold a bit,
Continue training with the same routine.

“Hello! Yes? Yes, it is me. Aha, okay. When?
N-now? Aha, b-but– not a problem! Ba-bye!”

Climbing up the ladder is what I have done,
Stood on this long, narrow cliff and waiting,
Cheers and claps from the audience I hear,
Nerve-racking indeed, yet a compulsory step,
Step-step-step-jump-grab and swing; finally,
Swing... swing... swing-release-catch-swing,
Swing... swing... swing-release–

“Hello! Yes, speaking! What do you want?
I know, I just spoke to him! Yes, okay! Bye”

Climbing up the foremast just before sunset,
Heading west; eyes longing for a night’s birth,
G-golden-orange sparks the bowsprit brilliantly,
There! The universe’s soul is s-... s-... singing,
Still as a rock, but a heart’s pound is irresistible,
Cheers and shouts from the crew is what I hear,
And now to fly low on the ground with the sun,
Climbing up the mizzenmast just before sunrise,
Setting the sails, untying the ropes, yawning,
Waiting for the birth of a new day, a new hope,
Tick... tock... tick... tock... tick–

“Hi buddy! Yep, I just called! I just wanted to–
Pardon me? Oh, alright, no worries. Okay bye!”

Climbing up the ladder patiently and still climbing,
With long-shorts and goggles ready for a high dive,
Hand-leg-climb-hand-leg-climb and there I reach,
Walk-breathe-walk-breathe-walk-stop and wait,
Deep breath and looking ahead with loud cheers,
Concentrating on the types of turns and twists,
Picturing every movement in my nervous head,
Deep breath... one-two–

Sunday, 09th of January 2011