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Wednesday, September 21, 2011

She has come again

poetry comes to me again
like a voice holding my hands into the woods in which the future reveals itself
like a world of wonder that unveils a curtain
to a congregation of the hearts chanting to ease pains
what must i write? will i have an audience?
must i whisper to you poetry; what i saw ... what i can see?
must i keep silent and let the loudness of the chants overwhelm me?


poetry has come again
whilst i open my arms
to catch rainbows
by the river Styx
poetry: you have come again 
tell me what this is all about?

Did you not tell me
          when I was a child
That there will be so much love to share
In a world that will grow older, colder, with the cries
          of a hungry child left in a huge dumpster of Progress?
          of a young girl driven to the brink of madness by the elegance of the neon lights?
          of a grow up man crushed of his torso by the heavy blow of daily toil?
          of a woman in twilight years whose Love having flown leaving her wilting like a rose dried up
                                                                              ----like a raisin in the sun?

poetry: did you not tell me all these whispered into me those moments we we up on that tree?
did i not ask you to whisper to me what the ultimate answer is?
                               or did i not whisper that to you
                                                   before you become you --- o' poetry?

poetry: you told me that rocks would speak to me in my alone-ness
as they roll down the hill
            gathering moss
that i would catch rainbows
            with open arms as i wade through the river styx
bidding farewell to the one i love
             you told me these, poetry
                               all these
did we not agree that Life is a child of Death?

Poetry: my first love ... my last
have you not flowed into my veins
build castles in every cell of my body?
become each breath that i take
reproduce yourself in every breath i give back
                       into this Finiteness of the world outside of you and i poetry?
i shall bid the world goodnight as poetry and i dance in our dreams

3 comments:

enta omri said...

Dear Dr Azly,

I wonder how one could love so deeply earnestly and passionately like this...

Anonymous said...

Poetry is God's gift to you

When it comes to you and

you care to write it down

you accept God's gift with good grace.

When you're so kind to share

your poetry with everyone

your poetry becomes God's gift

to humankind.

DR. AZLY RAHMAN said...

thank you enta and anonymous ...

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