Baby Doll

Baby doll, making

memory trails of our love,

in words that

left maps,

On our hearts,

Made it pump faster,

Baby doll,

Making happiness

That clouds the senses,

Burst out from our hearts,

Left foot prints

in smiles that

touched the world,

Baby doll,

Making footprints

On life

You and me,

Walking for eternity,

Baby doll,

Our fingers entwined.

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Sad Woman

Woman who close
her eyes,
walks like a ballet dancer,
on the 6 lane express-way,
woman who looks serene,
can not hear shouts
and honks melody,
of cars dancing,
glided on the road,
woman who tries to escape,
from the taxi driver and
good Samaritan passengers hands,
cries and cries with pain,
that sinks in to the Earth,
tears that reaches the heaven.

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Requiem To Death.

Bomb BLAST,
bodies strewn,
half body lay
from the waist,
a black skirt
red shoes attached,
brain splattered on road,
mocking the living,
passer-bye runs quickly
passes the image,
from his heart,
to his brain,
human machine.

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EYES

This poem made me happy.

Wuji Seshat

71

I don’t know the etiquette
of how eyes meet or for the first time
if they sparkle especially or

if I wore glasses the first time we met
I know I saw you with my intrinsic
looking as if I could pierce
your inner beauty, nor am I biased

I don’t know the business of eyes
beauty has been so over-rated
for so long, thanks to an evolution

but I know the last time
I look inside my heart, you’ll be there
with Asian eyes as deep as
India, China, Japan, Korea

so distinct like laughter of another culture
i don’t know the etiquette of eyes
but mine are drunk brown

not twin-cold blue or milk of salt
but chesnut-star, desire with the tip
of reaching across the universe.

Photo courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-Night-s-Eyes-II-129117202

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Stolen Dreams. [ for The Missing Chibok Girls]

Each year did she laugh?

A pen and book in hand,

Did she walk to school

With her friends?

Did she walk to future?

Her hopes and dreams in hand,

Did she sat down

To hold the sand

In her soft palms?

Did she live with no fears?

Until boko haram came,

To snatch her freedom,

Her dreams and hopes,

Did she cry out to Nigeria?

Save me please,

Did I listen?, did I help?

I never met her,

Her face a mask,

In my mind eyes,

Yet I am sad

At her plight,

Her stolen dreams,

My helplessness.

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Life Is Art.

life is art,

it is short and swift.

life is art,

it is beautiful and poignant.

life is art,

a free gift.

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DP Challenge Haiku #3

I love the imagery and the way you described the coming of night.

aka The Versatile

Twilight

Twilight sights the dawn
Of an enchanting silence
And birth of my fears…

~~~ Amreen B. Shaikh

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/11/25/challenge-haiku/

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