Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Poems of "The Young Man As Artist"


While reading the philosophy of history
my eyes went free
the words appeared blank
the paragraph did not speak to me
only the hovering calling of a memory

It was she - Hasyimah
how untimely she came
out of the blank pages
out of a wandering mind.
She was about to whisper in my ears
that I knew what I thought of her
and loving her.

I felt a feeling linked
loose and fear
fear of unreality
fear that the link was but
a figment of the imagination
fear that the link
could never be knotted. Tied.

I am now I am
and she is not around
how forward could imagination bring
into the fearful crevices of the mind
and out into the present realities
of now and what now?


Dark Nights

When the roads were wet
I would be on my way
Past lonely streets
The dark road ahead

Destined to her place
My mind had said
To keep her in company
Whenever raindrops fell

We talked sweet nothings
Till the early morn
All those inhibitions and taboos claimed
Were now passive in our hands.

O, dark nights,
You held our secrets
The pulsating of our hearts
In your darkness thundered

Our love's blindness
You tenderly sew
Under your black clouds
Were mysteries we sought

Treasured were memories spent together
The courage in loneliness
And the meaning in silence

The early hours of dawn
Drew us a while
And those car splashes reminded me too
Blurry neon lights I left behind
But dark nights were always on my mind.



Love is a burst of joy
A moment when two hearts
Feel so close together
Entranced in laughter
Wrapped in deep gratification
Satisfaction and feelings
Embraced in the oneness
And rhytmic song of joy.


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