The Tribe

Tribe to which monsoons cry,
Heavens march for its revival,
A melody for its people,
Touching its fragments,
A calligraphy.

Tribe to which the past burns,
Time halts for its revival,
A book for its people,
Revealing its pages,
A calligraphy.

Tribe to which tongues are cut,
News publish for its revival,
A queen for its people,
Purifying its lands,
A calligraphy.

Tribe to which my blood seeps,
Organs rip for its revival,
A page for its people,
Signing its identity,
A calligraphy.

Tribe to which I am being hanged,
Men whisper for its revival,
A burden to its people,
Breaking its bones,
A calligraphy.

Sunday, 15th of March 2015


Him and Her

The elegant stature of the horse,
The dazzling beauty of the bird,
His muscular gallop at the meadow,
Her free-style dance at the pond,
The loud drums from his hooves,
The mellow songs from her whispers,
His nature as wild as a thunderstorm,
Her nature as free as a morning breeze,
Then, time created a meeting place,
Exquisite young hearts to embrace,
Plotting for those two to love in grace,
Alas, each grew up in a different race,
Separate paths, leaving without a trace,
A kindled passion extinguished to never replace,
Now, their old souls ascended into space,
And time held another meeting, just in case,
Souls unbound to law start to chase,
Then, they went into a long sleep,
Descended onto Earth as another being,
The thick bark of the cherry blossom tree,
The divine scent of the lavender shrub,
His long branches sheltering the birds,
Her aromatic petals soothing the horses,
The limited ageing process of its pink,
The lengthened survivability of its purple,
His nature resilient against any gale or breeze,
Her nature silent against any drizzle or storm,
Then, time performed a magical ritual,
Forces of life vanished from each individual,
Figures of energy to become spiritual,
Condensing into shapes, awaiting a miracle,
Then, they went into a deep sleep,
Descended onto Earth as another being,
The cry of joy around the boy,
The cry of wisdom around the girl,
His loud vocals storming out of his mouth,
Her shy eyes smiling towards the wilderness,
The active movements of the body’s four limbs,
The active networks of the brain’s four lobes,
His nature as robust as a stallion,
Her nature as delicate as a nightingale,
Then, time dealt two cards,
Him and her as heads and tales,
As if creating an opposite bond,
Soon to crumble covertly into the ground,
Unforeseen events led them to a deathbed,
Sharing the same ancient moonlit sky,
And only now that time realised,
A forbidden mistake of life and death,
Like the sun and the black hole,
Earth and moon,
Him and her.

Monday, 16th of March 2015


A Beautiful Tomorrow

The death of an ancient star
Has forged a luminous being
Out of copious lives of men,
Rituals in arid lands of Arabia
Transformed his old habits
On the grand city of ________,
Now cleaved and girdled
Into an infamous statue
To be crowned victoriously,
Two exquisitely elegant _____
Beings joining for an endless
Steps of peaceful freedom,
And as he walks today calmly
In this beautiful spring
He wonders about
A beautiful tomorrow!

Wednesday, 11th of March 2015


Simply Imperfect

Girls who cover their inner portrait
By immersing their delicate beings
Into layers of masked foundation
For the sole purpose of perfecting
An imperfect adorable human skin
Are extremely excruciatingly boring,
So much so that the incompleteness
Of the girl sitting next to her attracts
The very eyes that sees her yawn
Out of exhaustion in a short meeting
Allowing a being with an inner humour
To laugh at the delicacy of the matter,
Ladies who are listening to mannerism
With an interest in many poetic beings
Should understand that what attracts
The opposite gender is total purity
Extracted from an imperfect human
To perfect the emotional surge in us,
Having illustrated my point of interest to
Let passionate hearts out of their cages
Riding on tongues to deliver messages
Of romanticism is the poet’s desire
To warn to never trust a poet’s love
For we are imperfect beings, too.

Sunday, 08th of March 2015