THE BEST SUNRISE
Shaikh K.
I passed several dawns but never found the best one,
But thorns of overwhelming memory often puzzled me,
Back me with undesired emotions.
Once I was pre-occupied with the countless beauty of nature,
Enormous, magnificent and probably insensible.
Long since I have been wandering to discover the best morning,
With birds' song, rivers' music and glittering leaves with dew;
Suddenly I guessed a group of people traveling for pilgrimage;
They accompanied me with their heavenly journey,
They got at their destination but found their pilgrimage disappeared instantly;
They discovered there an humble cottage, a happy mother with a baby in her lap,
Sun was playing on it's innocent face; my search for the best dawn ended then.
********************
Portrait of a Holy Heart
Shaikh K.
I build the home for the person voluntarily,
Who destroys my dwelling.
I keep weeping to make him my friend,
Who ignores me indifferently.
I keep walking for him from lane to lane,
Who makes me wandering mendicant.
Enormous long nights, I like to keep waking for him,
Sleepless and vigilant.
I mend the bank of his brook with content,
Who breaks my banks angrily.
I shed my tears for him,
Who hurts my breast spitefully.
I offer him my best songs gaily,
Who throws me fiery arrows of anger.
Through my whole life, I keep offering him
Sparking flowers of adoration,
Despite of getting thorns from him.
I bloom colourful innocent flowers,
Coated with softest affection on his breast,
Who erects mournful graves on my chest.
I keep decorating the face restlessly,
With rare ingredients of beauty,
Even though the mouth on that face
Curses me vigorously with hateful vocabularies.
I keep weeping to make him my friend,
Who ignores me indifferently.
< Dedicated to Jesus Christ, the noble heart>
Think a While
Shaikh K.
I guess you, watch you, not been bore;
So what, I been forty four.
I think, it's my human right,
Who says, for that, I'm gona fight !
I don't mix up love and sex,
Hate to tease eves and to vex.
Long since I felt beauty fever,
A thing of beauty is joy for ever.
Trust me, it's a nature's game;
Why face red hot, what's the shame.
Look my mustache, hair are white;
Friendship makes me bold and bright.
Love you, like you, do you bow,
Truest friend you, noblest foe.
Waiting Babes
Shaikh K.
How can I say, the mournful day
Of September two thousand one.
It's hard to stay, on the cheerful bay
When everyone joined the moan.
My weeping eyes, with thousand's cries,
Emerged in the pool of grief.
How hearts can hold, tongues can told,
Where bodies can't express in brief.
At the breakfast tea, the caring she,
Promised to her joyful babes,
Will come back soon, for the happy noon,
For the party, charm and raves.
No noise and cry, the elders try,
To keep the children cool.
But the fortune's mail, makes them pale,
With deadly thunder's tool.
With grievance doom, bright gaily loom
Graved in calm and quiet.
Stopped looming laugh, living life is tough,
With stressful tears and sweat.
For the fallen high, Human cry and sigh,
At ground zero they told.
Gathered grieving guys, holding hands in ties,
Vowed to dream they hold.
Children in that home, still wish their mom,
In the silent morning tea.
They pray to God, the high,
we can't say her bye;
We must live for thee.
