Hope In An Oasis Near By.

All of a sudden, summer has arrived, the lovely plants and its dear flowers are almost dried and some of them seem fatigue with the burdensome summer heat. The poet is now wandering in the Arab world in search of Oasis to see a flower bloomed, a blossom, a sprout. Yet nothing such happened and he wandering and searching for the most peaceful part in the Earth. Dark as the summer and summer as a dark net occupying him mind. He sat in his desert tend and near a palm tee shade and started writing his new story pondering about a white cloud joy.

solemn query he asked: will he meet a sight of an Oasis nearby to unbound the joy of his new hope?

When the world is a Theatre

When the world that we live is a theatre,

No more complaints if I play my role

Not to disturb you, your work, or your arts

Let me dance and roam, merrily, playfully and vigor

To avail myself where knowledge is dwelt

I dare go seek its wings and we two make a flight. 

He Lives Amidst Literature

Drowned by his thought and now getting completely puzzled. His tiresome chirping would hear as if a cricket sat pounding, the poet sung lonely in his own disequilibrium. Did life bend upon his curiosity; multiple thoughts ran in him and random queries with fragmented Arabian views.  He had themes of dreadful subjects; politically dread  when his life introduced a terror to get her gloomy. He kept aside his humor for a time to come. Moreover, the time has arrived to make it explode .Now he would wander in the clouds, higher—   to win the joy back to the origin. There are mates new born for him—the unbroken silence and its true sister the tranquil solitude. since the burdens are away from him he wandered next door to ensure the rest of his time he lives like a struggler never before.Now he went with his Ancient attitude, more expressed from his obscurity— unclear yet for the society who shatters his views in a rediculous manner.Now the madness tearing him apart, he wrote lines of horror and often sarcastic, as if we was died and reincarnated from the barren Indian soil from a cause of curse. Spontaneous, he was so much wild to compare his past, and since handful of dreams are coming forth in his new pages.




Betrayed by an Arab girl whom he called his wild soul—Angel, who espied his beautiful daring thoughts, who is an Arab wardress, by whom his thoughts once blossomed in myriad thorns in variable shades of grey and white and more-often darkened.who helped his new blowing thoughts,which was an impact of her magical inspiration that nurtured him and ended up in a revenge.

'When darkness overwhelms our narrow ray of light,we dig our minds with a dagger strong'

'When darkness overwhelms our narrow ray of light,we dig our minds with a dagger strong'

Me and My Muse......My Muse died

The dawn has arrived at my feet to think of her, that I compare with a romantic time that I sung with my pleasant imagination's songs. There as in a trance I traveled to seek the birds of that village which gave me inspiration to write many of my songs. There was a pastoral joy that covered with the dew drops upon the green, ever-green grass. The native-country smile rammed through me, how this was beautifying me. Awake not every instrument that has breath and a few seen the first curtains of the rising dawn. I was refreshing to work, the travelling soul in me finds many views of maturing dawn. At last I stopped near a house, made of brown tiles. The house was decorated with Garden Urns where plants sprung with sweet odor. My mind forgets the melancholy order and met her at the place I was stopped

'Dear, the time is less and as I was hasten to you' she said thus

'We go fade some other part, to pour our secret'   I said

we moved in the hide of tree shades and I inquired about the situation of our love for hours.Then the dark fell in

years passed after,gone and torn

Now I heard a sound from a distance,that voice echoes in me now of past

somebody is listening to me now where I live in my old story

Me and My Muse......My Muse died

My Thobbing Heart

I ease my buring hours,
And think as a liberal cloud
And floats in the dales of blind society
Henceforth, I have my armour,my shelter
My thobbing heart

Let it be

Yet another night advancing
And sleep be the only relax,
Or the answer for the toils,
whatever,an enthusiatic
Relaxation awaits
to hide the clashes of today,
Let it be..

Inspiration Folded

Inspiration folded
unto myriad folds
Was it a dream,
A heart broken dream
The spirit was coy
The spirit was so dull
 A painful dream
Was it a dream
A painful dream
A desolated dream
And the maid was mute,
The stars— all they weep,
 I joined the dark,
To that unknown dream

I Sat disturbed after seeing the maid.I thought of that
dismal dream of afternoon,Aye It was a dream

O' Bud you Watch

Innocence is a flowery bud
Silently playful in wind
The wind loves her smile
Beautifully dances in spring
Her fragrance is energetic
To young hearts
They often have it..Romance
Since the flower is not yet come

ON A Naturalist

O' feathery world,
Let him feel
Thy suspense
And thy secret
When curiosity follows
Thy shape
Thy beeps
Always the wonder
A wandering cloud
A wandering wind
A night
A day
A river's flow
A volcano
The mountain hail
And all in all
Our breath
Our life
Aye,let him dig to..
The truth

Then I wake up.after A torturing Dream,back to you:

One beat to the favor of truth that I need forever. There are queries that a few human mind dare shall search. I was religious and still, I must to be with a hidden face who seeks the reality of what I see and what I have seen. I met an atheist when my brain partially developed; He was curious and aggressive in all kind that he was in his thirties and never seen obeyed to a person who said ‘God’ —the more rebellious and furious matter that I ever had discussed, was his, the man’s perspective approach to Science and Metaphysics —that made him unveil the result ‘there is no GOD’

What…? I had to collide with my thoughts one other and it was difficult to blind myself or rather I want difficulty. If the soul self the domain of a human being, tell me what is it? Is there a soul that was created by a God or it is just a poetic concept that antique poets and saints used in describing contents to support a Myth. A God, who was said to be the creator and all the Lords belong to him.

I had to go and look for him with an emergent explosion of mind, was it happened as I need the facts to be unveiled. When I was doing my first research to life and its origin and never knew that he was a typical person who has Ideas that can penetrate the past and present. He does! Many of him is truth, often controversial —which have the effect of questioning the ‘Dummy God’ and its existence. I was burning my head all the nights after happen to pass through his volatile approach to Particle physics and the awareness that he tried to impart to us with a natural quest and Originality that a few men envy of. Ofttimes it batter to my ears as his words —entering to the World to show us the answers of this infinity,so called the vastness or a phenomenon. How I do, to out pass his knowledge, he talks physically and it is what happening here, there and everywhere. Was he a Darwinian? Or he talks there is no Spirit which was built by an Out-lander, who promotes power to the entire being, who surviving and yet survived . But he answered again ‘There is No God’ but a Satan lives in each and every malicious-mind.