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