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“I often think that the night is more alive and more
richly colored than the day.” –Vincent Van Gogh

I painted Tuesday with stars hoping
Van Gogh would woo the iris
to rise from their winter melancholy.
                ~ ~ ~
What is a day without stars
or night without sun?

Beyond the horizon
Van Gogh’s brush
paints sunflowers
on the cheeks of the moon.
                ~ ~ ~
The sky fell in starlight strokes
of Van Gogh.
Like a child chasing butterflies
I collected wishes on the tip
of my brush to paint joy
in my valley of sorrow.
Each small poem was inspired by a quote and brushstrokes of Van Gogh
Shane 1d
A painter paints a canvas full of pictures;
A picture paints a moment trapped in time.
A poet writes a poem to be pictured;
A poem paints a picture in the mind.
Dear FUTURE SELF,
Be HAPPY, better HEALTH,
SMELL the ROSES,
and just KNOW THIS TO:
Be GOOD TO YOURSELF,
SING SONGS, RUN and PLAY,
Be CHEERFUL ALL THE DAY!!!
More JOY, less STRESS,
BE GRATEFUL and BE BLESSED!!!
Don't let BURDENS BRING YOU DOWN,
Wear a SMILE and not a FROWN!!!
Leave FRUSTRATIONS IN THE PAST,
FOR THESE TRIALS WILL NOT LAST!!!
HOPE YOUR FUTURE IS A BLAST!!!!


B.R.
Date: 11/01/2023
I’ve noticed
you haven’t written poetry in a while —
at least, not published any.
You’ve gone quiet.

And yet, without words,
you’re still poetic.
It’s stronger than you.

You only ever wrote about our love.
Now that I’m gone,
you’ve lost your inspiration.

Thank you —
I’m flattered.

But please,
go back to writing.
I’m still here.
I miss your poems
making my heart skip beats
every morning.
Don’t you worry—
I may be in the valley of the shadow of death now,
but when you least expect it,
I’ll be resting in green pastures.

— for those who wished me harm
Staring holes into the universe
Gazing far beyond our galaxy
Watching acid rain on Venus
Leaving half of my thoughts on distant planets

I've been walking on Triton
I've been circling black holes
And yet, the most beautiful words
Come to my mind when it's empty

Looking for home among distant stars
While Earth's own beauty left its mark
So I'll take my journal and tent
And write down the whispers of this planet
While still embracing its cosmic neighborhood
O’ Jamil! Arise, arise! The dawn awaits your flame,
Not as a flicker, faint and frail, but a sun none can tame.
Yet haste is the foe of wisdom, the traitor of the soul,
For destinies are not cast in haste, but forged in measured coal.
The mountains bow to none but those who climb with patient feet,
The ocean’s depth is not revealed by waves that blindly beat.
The pen that writes eternal tales moves with a sovereign will,
O’ Jamil, become part of the story, and be written slowly still.

Not by the fleeting breath of time, nor by the tempest’s roar,
But by the silent hand that shapes the clay to something more.
The rose that claims its bloom at once is robbed of sacred pride,
The sun ascends the eastern sky, but only with the tide.

In every heart the latent spark awaits the perfect hour,
To blaze a path through endless night with majesty and power.
But power without patience is but ash upon the breeze —
O’ Jamil! Be steadfast, walk with grace, and bend your will with ease.

Yet know — the flame that softly glows may set the world ablaze,
The gentle seed that falls in soil can birth eternal days.
No storm nor lightning need you chase; within, a sun resides,
A fearless light, a boundless charm, the Self that never hides.

So sing! Sing loud, O’ beautiful, with courage and delight —
Each step a dance upon the stars, each breath a burning light.
Write not in haste, but with a smile, the story you fulfil —
O’ Jamil, become part of the story, and be written slowly still.
Awaken Slowly 14/08/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
Again, you showed me the way
And ensured I kept my insecurities at bay
I was feeling dull
My pain, did you ****
I was feeling anxious
You helped me fight my demons
I was feeling stressed
My mind, you calmed
All in all, I was down
And you turned my bane into a boon!

Again, you showed me the way
In fact, YOU were THE WAY
The path to happiness
And inner peace
Yes, you may be an author
But for me, a motivator
You may be a poet
But for me, you represent faith
You may be a translator
But for me, a teacher
You may be an academic
But you provide the kick
Which I so desperately need
To do many a deed
And finally, you may be an activist
But for me, my inner beast
Ensuring I do my best
Come what may
Thus, you again showed me the way!!
Poem on how thinking about Dr. Meena Kandasamy (eminent novelist, poet, translator of the "Thirukkural", academic and anti-caste activist) helped me overcome my anxieties and insecurities on a tough day of work yesterday.
Sometimes I look toward the horizon
and there is nothing—
only a line.

And it scares me.

Because nothing
can be just nothing,
or it can be everything.

And the line
can be just a line,
or it can be the beginning
of a journey—
not the arrival.
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