We are still beautiful
Yes our bodies bear the brunt of unkind times
And raiment torn and tattered
But our words shaped with beauty still
No lack of cursive form or embellishments
Our lips kiss poisoned seasons
Faces are smoked and withered
Under flames of countless vigils
Our sundered dreams
On earths of invisible islands
Lie in disarray
Like the wreckage of ships
Played with by merciless storms
And thrown onto shores in pieces
Were that blood raining
Or desires of self destruction
In the journey of torment
What season did not come
And what season did not bring
Tears to our eyes
Solemnity to our tone
Yet not dirge escaped our lips
Never were we mournful
Our hearts are like the
Unworried smiles of children
We are still beautiful
Its been ages since we left
Those beloved lanes behind
But still
Many known un known fellows
And the humane captors of their dreams
And the ledgers of the migration of their loves
Come to us from faraway lands
When the sun of rose tinted afternoons
Steps onto green velvet just emerging
And scares life into frozen beings
And in bodies long frozen
Rivulets of warming blood begin to humm gently
The bird of silent sadness
Under the bough of overwhelming grief chirps up
And a grief long forgotten
Becomes a fester afresh and seeps
That is when it seems
Our words
Are the faces of voices alive
We are still beautiful
Our pleasant demeanour guides
the countenance of the righteous
And that is why we wounded existences
Live in the memories of their yesterdays
For they recount what they endure
Our wordsmithery is yet
Lovelier than life itself
The language of poetry
Is for those who are grieved
And wounded of heart in love
And faces like roses in bloom
With lips like ripe luscious fruits
That with sandalwood hands
On the footholds of Love and Devotion
Write our names
All pain that was unkown
Becomes an ally
They are partners in passion
Yes the imprisioned ones
And when they go to the slaughter
They sing our songs
Of them everyone is proud
Everyone that shares this tumultous journey
On our limited existences
And our wounded compositions
Now we sign our names on pacts of our elimination
Now we are the treasure of the skies
Now we are the needs of the earth
We are still beautiful
Quateel Ahmad
27/09/2013 01:46
Yes our bodies bear the brunt of unkind times
And raiment torn and tattered
But our words shaped with beauty still
No lack of cursive form or embellishments
Our lips kiss poisoned seasons
Faces are smoked and withered
Under flames of countless vigils
Our sundered dreams
On earths of invisible islands
Lie in disarray
Like the wreckage of ships
Played with by merciless storms
And thrown onto shores in pieces
Were that blood raining
Or desires of self destruction
In the journey of torment
What season did not come
And what season did not bring
Tears to our eyes
Solemnity to our tone
Yet not dirge escaped our lips
Never were we mournful
Our hearts are like the
Unworried smiles of children
We are still beautiful
Its been ages since we left
Those beloved lanes behind
But still
Many known un known fellows
And the humane captors of their dreams
And the ledgers of the migration of their loves
Come to us from faraway lands
When the sun of rose tinted afternoons
Steps onto green velvet just emerging
And scares life into frozen beings
And in bodies long frozen
Rivulets of warming blood begin to humm gently
The bird of silent sadness
Under the bough of overwhelming grief chirps up
And a grief long forgotten
Becomes a fester afresh and seeps
That is when it seems
Our words
Are the faces of voices alive
We are still beautiful
Our pleasant demeanour guides
the countenance of the righteous
And that is why we wounded existences
Live in the memories of their yesterdays
For they recount what they endure
Our wordsmithery is yet
Lovelier than life itself
The language of poetry
Is for those who are grieved
And wounded of heart in love
And faces like roses in bloom
With lips like ripe luscious fruits
That with sandalwood hands
On the footholds of Love and Devotion
Write our names
All pain that was unkown
Becomes an ally
They are partners in passion
Yes the imprisioned ones
And when they go to the slaughter
They sing our songs
Of them everyone is proud
Everyone that shares this tumultous journey
On our limited existences
And our wounded compositions
Now we sign our names on pacts of our elimination
Now we are the treasure of the skies
Now we are the needs of the earth
We are still beautiful
Quateel Ahmad
27/09/2013 01:46
