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An Open Ended

The quaint potteries

of thine flowers flowering

there is beauty in—

Feelings Never Told

A mind of wo-man

Like hers in the wishing well

—I looked hereupon

Wind I

(A Haiku About The Wind)

The wind gusts through me

As was on a street corner 

But not on branches

Raw fields in late autumn

Conceal the whisper of lost souls.

Riders of memories

In the armour of dreams.

Inventors of the ancient times.

And all together,

Like herds of timid does,

Are crossing a wavy plain,

Chased with a sorrow of the past,

Chased with a foreboding of the future.

She was an aqua butterfly fluttering her iridescent in the frigid winds of the north 

Searching and wandering though she was not lost only to be found.

She hugged every morsel of the tree with reverence loving it and becoming it.

And she was all thoughtless we had but no mind of our own

But she swore by these paragons of deliberate hatred and what she wanted was to be a perfect memory to every man who was arrogant enough to experience her body.

She glittered with desire, breaking so easily, so tarnished, so gone. She was fooled and damp with hatred 

She knew from behind her back that she was nothing of my knowledge. 

She terrified me and chilled me to the very nomadic wanderlust of my soul.

And when she was recognized every part of the metaphysical realm came alive.

At two she rose and watched the butterfly fall beneath her waist and flutter

And those who fell broke to the scent of her glittering perfume, and the rubies and roses all became her through the damn wall she used to be me.

The broken pieces remain scattered across the floor,
Collecting dust and dirt as time drags on by.
We walk barefoot amongst the remains,
Staring each other down as though we are each other's prey,

Fear formed from when we once slept as one.
Sharing dreams and make-believes,
Dirty sheets are where the passion's gone.
Doubtful intentions on a pleading promise,
Replacement organ where you bleed and have none.

I tread cautiously into retreating,
Setting myself up:
Dead aim, on target.

Battling with their inner self
some men and women
become cynical of others
feeling as if they are a rose --
The 'queen' of all flowers.

I haven't much to say here,
for my hours are measured,
And the night is ready to greet,
One more day of this year.

I am "unbound" and unshackled
and moving onward and onward
in my journey which will end,
In being one with the Divine.
Yet O you my dearest friends!
I have to say it again,
Live simple and think high,
To reach heights that are thine.
The moon was full last week,
It is less than half now,
Ponder on its darkness,
And your inner light will shine.
Even if our destinies,
Are measured and marked,
By the planets and the stars,
Just pause awhile and ponder
On the One who controls all...
Gaze and keep gazing,
Till your sight gets tired,
You will see if you are keen,
That God's Will is prevailing.
It has always been so,
From the first day of creation,
And so will it be,
In every dimension.
(Written and posted by Muhammad Naveed Ahmed/Emmenay on April 25, 2011).

Morning comes,
And I wonder why,
I am so out of sync with this world,
And most of the people.
As the moments pass,
I find my heart,
Drawing closer and closer,
To a divine whistle.
I wanted to be one with Him,
And chose to do my very best,
To be lost in His undying love,
For time eternal.
O that I had not been deceived!
O that I had not been side-tracked!
From my life's goal,
By the very hands,
That rocked my cradle...
Was it written out for me,
In the cosmic scrolls of fate?
If so why is my heart still filled
With the desire and resolve,
To seek out the Real?
O my divine Beloved!
You say You are everywhere,
And that You welcome and embrace,
Those who want to be Yours,
O my Invisible!
What is this drudgery You have put me in?
Why this daily worry about earning,
A livelihood for myself and others,
When You assert You made me higher,
Lofty and noble;
Than even the genie and the angels?
I am unable to come to terms,
With what You have said and what is happening,
Day in and day out, around me,
It is indeed horrifying to see the world
Turning terrible!
Only a few pay heed to You,
O my great Love...
And with each passing hour I see how those,
Like me, left alone with unanswered queries,
Have become negligible.
Buddha, Mahavira, Shiva and Krishna,
Noah*, Abraham*, Moses* and Christ*,
And even The Praised One, called Muhammad*,
Are not respected, loved or followed
By many a disciple...
So O my divine Beloved what's all this,
Going on in the name of the devil?
What has been foiled for those like me,
Who want nothing, but You and Your
Love infallible?
O my Beloved pray I to you most humbly,
To respond to me why I was deflected,
Like several, who were on the journey,
Of the straight path, that led to You:
O our Ideal!
   (Written and posted by Muhammad Naveed Ahmed/Emmenay, on Saturday, April 9, 2011).
 

Standing tall as I lay by a babbling dry creek

I gaze endlessly with limited time into the still darkness of a dazzeling lighted pool

Thoughtlessy mindful of every sound of my silent surroundings

I drift away to places unknown, yet known, to  ponder the meaning of my life

Sudden bursts of dark light moisten the still air of the noisy, calm darkness

"Who's there'" I called out with silent voice to disembodied solidness

Suddenly I realize, a few hours later,  that life is just an illusion

As I lay standing by the babbling, silent, dry creek

My mind became crystal clear as muddy water...I found my answer