A blue black cloud, all over me is written JOY
in the script of vapor, dense, moist and meaningful,
I am light, like a feather, the breeze is in love with me for that,
I love his gentle persuasion to waft, move about, explore..
and then--ravaged by wind my love changes direction.

I love freedom more than anything, but forgot limits, hover
now, I am no more attached to the green hills, they are jealous,
far above them am I, untouched by their vainglorious pride,
I am not hard-hearted, parched fields send shivers of lightning
break me in to thousand  smaller pieces, scatter around.

My love for this earth is kindled by the sights unfurling below
all the egrets, cormorants, storks and herons of great magnificence,
those kind hearted friends that fly with me often are in pain
like the farmers, there isn't enough water for anything.

A cloud is a thought, inspired by the love for mother earth
by the ocean I am gifted to the breeze, to tour around,
on many lands fell my shade, found life in all varieties,
now is the time to be kind at heart, melt, fall in torrents.

/
Many days
I do not read any newspaper
Even do not see television
At all
Many days have gone
After You
I do not read any poetry

How to feel that since this morning!
Repeatedly hear identifying tunes on the air

Your arrival in the sky,
The air reverberates
Looks like another day
In the Paradise,
In another song,
Which brings the soul
The Aroma

Everyone is coming out
From all sides
Young Old
Babies Boys
Women Men
Everyone
Everyone is clapping
Singing the song of the same tune
This song is not the song of Rain
Not even a lamentation

The Southern breeze whispering your words
Slowly Said,
The Little Tailor Bird
No, No,
Not such a summer afternoon
Not even a hurricane warning

Each of the human eye
Follow the Eastern Sky  
Tireless Eye
Watching the sun,
The Red Sun,
You went to bring dreams for us
From the Sun

Hundreds of thousands of people
In his next question
Hand with Flower
Shoulder to Shoulder
Today will be the day of strangers,
The poet will come
We are standing in the flowers
Fist full of dreams to take

Float in the sky with white clouds
My dreams are calling again
Today is not such an Autumn
But Still feel like an Autumn
Indeed,  
The poet will come,
A poem in the New

Where each word will be spoken dream
Love to be evacuated
Poems that will repay
The debt to my Ancestor
Take revenge on thee
For their injustice,
Torture
Poems that would bring the stars
For our next generation
A poem that would bring the red rose for my darling,
Would bring such a smile to my mother's face
As Moon that smile
And that is simply killed false dreams
Will we ever Released
Sing Freedom Songs

The Poet,
My beloved Poet
You will come,
Will surely come
And will recite your immortal poem
/

@ Musfiq us shaleheen

your hand sleepy
and resting deeply
in mine,
the sound of your voice
pecking like a sparrow,
tickling my heart back to life;
beaming, vast, sunshiny
and unbroken.

Never again will I make the mistake of thinking that someone in love with what I write is the same thing as being in love with....the rest of me.

I used to have a heart
But the streets stole it
I'm no longer a poet
Just drugged with a pen
Hitting rock bottom time and again
Its hard out here
So I grab another beer
And drink my pain away
Til a sunnier day,
If it ever comes
Til then the drugs will numb
Me and my bad decisions
And all my artistic visions
Til I'm no longer a poet
Just drugged with a pen

One man
can really change the world,
even if it's just by dying.
One man
can really lead thousands
if he kneels down and prays hard enough.
One man
can influence his pale demons
to lay down their pitch forks,
and also to pick them up.
One man
is just a man
is just a father
just a husband
just a preacher
just a speaker
just a man.
And does he truly want to be that
one man
that can really change the world,
even if it's just by dying?

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul
His eyes are the windows into mine
Through his eyes I see every flaw
Every mistake
I see myself at my worst:
Screaming at 2 am,
my terrible need for companionship,
the depression that consumes me,
I see my greed, my jealousy, my fear,
how I wake up in the morning.
Through his eyes I am able to accept the fact that I am not perfect
That I will never be perfect.
That there is no need to be perfect.
I see my pure heart, my desire to give, my compassion, my strength.
With him, for the first time in years, I almost felt human.
Normal.
I feel right.
Strong.
Willing to fight for myself.
His eyes, greener than the grass in the middle of spring, grayer than the skies on a cloudy day, act as mirrors pouring back into me.
The hope I’d  long since forgotten existed within me.
Long before I knew of his name.
I can get lost in them.
He reminds me not to stare too long
Forces me to turn away
I didn't want to look away
He’s hypnotizing.
Many long before myself have seen themselves through his eyes.
Bitter, cold, jealous, mean,
They go insane.
I wonder if they didn't like what they saw.
But in his eyes is where I found me.