The void calls through gossamer veils and widow's peak.
Shifty-eyed now of necessity I lie, bone-wrapped
in rosaries black as my rheumy eyes, death speaks.
Uncomforted by down or velvet, role trapped
corseted, board stiff with age like calf skin vellum
peeled and bloodied by the dual edged knife of man.
The scene is set and I shall not whimper, as do some,
or call to God, or blame the fates of those whose clans
remain earth-bound, when I have left this mortal glade.
Pigment on canvass, linseed loosed, stretchers taut, displayed,
all of this, I've had a plenty, and been royally paid.
My life was art, and it was art that fanned my life's flame.
So, stretch me on the pine boards and lay my edges down;
monochrome me in umber, drench me in shades of brown.
Self Portrait See About the Poem
This is a decade that many wonderful things happened;
I was born, the reign of hard rock began,
Michael Jackson began to moonwalk, Cars became smoother
on the road, Cold War reigned, and also a time that soul music
massaged our souls and emotions.
This is a decade that never dies. People who were born
and lived in the 80s still live, the music still exists in hard-drives,
teenagers have immortalized the fashion sense, and
my yellowing birth certificate still lives on, with one piece.
While you sleep I tell you all of the things I keep inside throughout day.
Now that you can hear but not listen I find them much easier to say.
My hopes, my dreams, my fears, and everything in between
Your subconscious hears so keen, or so it seems.
My tongue is soft; I speak so sweetly
Knowing your reaction will never greet me.
Tonight will be different in what I want you to know.
It has everything to do with what I can’t help but show.
I hold no claim to any religion but you’ve given me a place for my faith.
Somewhere it will never stale or lose its lavish taste.
You’ve shown me something I can see, touch, and feel,
And so before it I choose to kneel.
I know I don’t say it but I miss you every day.
Sitting, thinking of the perfect words to be my choice,
Yet when you call I can’t find any of the right words to say.
I’m just happy to finally hear your voice.
Even just a moment is enough to sooth my heavy heart;
Fearing the ends of conversations knowing we’ll have to part.
I’ll never be too far from you, always within arm’s reach,
And in your days of darkness I’ll be the light that you will seek.
I’ll never let you leave too far from me, I’ll stay close behind you in this world;
Secretly protecting what is mine, you will always be my girl.
I only want the best for you so the best of me I will employ.
Faithfully yours, I will always be your boy.
I close my eyes and kiss your soft sweet lips
And see the very best of you in loving bliss.
I see past the physical which makes you attractive
And focus on the things I can’t see in which I’m attracted.
Your thoughts I’d love to hear them all.
Of the things you speak disinterest never makes its call.
My day will come, I know someday I’ll be the only one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give, to love unconditionally.
Yes our day will come, I know someday we’ll be as one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give… to love unconditionally.
Crown of Sonnets
I am lost
I can feel no presence
I know of no human or animal that has a measure of significance alike mine
I have a teacher
A teller of all there is to be known of the world
She has bestowed upon me the gifts of a magi
I have sailed deep oceans with noblemen and written great works with worldly scholars
All of this I owe to her, my "teacher"
But through all her wisdom I have heard or seen of no such creature
The one of whose value is as mine
I looked upon the oracle and many great libraries with scriptures overflowing
I still have read or seen of no such monster
I've heard witches speak ancient incantations
and I have sung songs with the sirens
Out of the monsters and spirits that came none of which had a significance as is mine
Upon my dreariness and woeful thought came the final place
A painting of life and death
A tale of heaven and hell at war
The purity of truth blackened by man
I saw upon them a thing of which is mine
Not upon the dead who will be missed
Nor the skeletons carrying away the dead, the ones with purpose
Not even of the severed limbs and broken bones discarded at random in the field of chaos and confusion
No, I saw my equal upon the shadows
A black being darker than silence
A causer of mischief and misfortune
A wielder of pain and sorrow
My equal is hated by all for all he has done
My equal is upon the wicked and the damned sadly he is to dumb to care
My equal of such tresspasses is a demon
My equal is a man who dressed in black kills and dies and is born again through his ashes of filth
He sees his crimes
It is because of this he wept upon his hands
The hands stained my children's blood and scared by the scratches of the innocent
But I was wrong
I am not equal to a demon, for these are not the acts of a demon but of man
That is my equal
My equal is man
My sins are everlasting
My transgressions are in stone
Man is the cause for the failure of men
Man is the cause for the failure of many!
Posted by Haley Melton at 3:37 AM
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As your mind collects the memories of yesterday
Epiphanies tie into knotty strings of realization
That very moment. . .
You merely exist
Back then. . .those smiles
Those. . .distant laughs
Some you remember by name
Gone now maybe
Like the exhalation of the wind
Others dispersed in the world of arbitrary happening
Like leaves from falling, man-made trees
There is no doubt that they have
Activate the bomb
Ignite the fuse
And you’re on next year’s history book
But drained of all remaining good
That smile you gave
The warm embrace so long ago
Salt-coated with piles of rubbish
Over last remaining mental spurts of comfort
Evil, evil, evil, evil, EVIL. . .
Always absorbed and remembered
. . .though never forgiven. . .
All good and gracious sentiments
Packed up in a box set nonchalantly in Downstair’s storage
. . .that chair with the broken leg in the corner of the room
That mangled cobweb holding a dangling, lifeless spider
A drowned sailor’s hat drifting through the current of the ocean
The single tear from a soldier’s vigilant, memory-stricken eye
The frustrating thoughts of a mute
The unchanged. . .HATED deformations
Forgotten you. . .
One soul brings to light weary, unthought-of happenings
Wedged deep into what she can only imagine
With not even a hint of understanding
. . .of the pain. . . .of the bewildering distortions
Of the ugly. . .
One soul merely vomits sickly verse after verse
As humanity embraces its downfall
The poet hangs onto her unjustifiable, forgotten. . .
So confined to the boxes is she who
Tries to free herself from them
Breaking down barriers of all political and cultural design
Constructing opportunities and
Imagining their trite and expected
She, who reigns supreme in the art
The morning being the promise
The afternoon, the despair
The night, a restless dance to
So that it may all begin anew
And she may float with ambition,
Flirt with lofty goals
(Which are so very tangible once realized to a more substantial degree)
All through which comes the
The cerebral revelation
For her mind and the World work in harmoniously demonizing tandem to erase the sketches of a life
Of her own craft
When age was young
Just to confuse legends
I wrote poems
I shaved and shoveled all roads
Pulled all seeds that needed speed and clean education for growth
With no free breakfasts from hypocrites i lied
so i can lay my bosom on any king's favorite lie
The king of words ruling metaphors
Baking biscuits on guaranteed standing ovations
Fading visible guilty conscious poems in early ages
Poetic adolescent was on my age
Cooking low budget poetry
Singing verses composed by blind hand writings
Saving healers in cages
When age was young
I did fasting
I placed hunger on my own starvation tricking my own mind i was not hungry
I sold prayers to heal one eyed angels that never saw real motivated rhymes
Running faster than natural reactions
For useless words i cared
They carried useless surprise party motives
Labelled sins defining age restriction
I cared for rotten expressions pressing my inner wrong buttons
I cared for rotten expressions pressing my inner wrong buttons
I cared for blossom expressions pressing my inner suffocated floors
I planted punctuation' in different national wet tensions
My earth visit felt like a surprise visit organised by God
Yes it was!!
I implied all i spoke multiple times in different flights
Applied and disguised my style in piles while my tongue grew taller
My head could not enter lessons
When age was old I was young
I spoiled my paintings with funny connotations
My teen-ager sense of writing was never childish though I was a child of poetry
I had anger
When age was old I was young
© Raymond Ngomane
My knees were the things that
kept me up and my skin is my
cutting board my eyes are the
rain clouds to the fire running
down my arms and my heart is
the fire place that keeps me
burning so calm
My crazy Cousin.
My cousin calls me crazy poet
Cause I don’t think like others
I’ve not seen her since she was three
A Flower girl to us lovers
When we got wed in sixty five
But now we write and all
Oh lord, we two are so alike
It’s just remarkable.
In eight weeks time, she’s coming here
To good old western Oz
I know we’re going to get on well
I do, and that’s because
That girl is crazy just like me
And she likes a good old laugh
She seems to be a grand old bird
I’ll say on her behalf.
She’ll bring her man, and son with her
They’re all creative folk
She can paint and write as well
And boy, it is no joke
The kind of talent that they have
It will be a joy to me
To meet up with forgotten kin
I can’t wait for this to be.
11 August 2013 @ 1813hrs.
The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes. Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.
‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’
Easy comes beauty in youth’s natural spring,
But with age its mellow dimensions grow.
Like to a bud, a full bloom, age will bring.
With grace its beauty does ebb and glow,
Its liberty allows its new functions to show.
Mature beauty is and will be admired always,
Youth’s beauty and its esteem goes to and fro,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
Mature beauty has a melody to sing,
And this it releases so that you will know,
The elegance and blessing of its echo’s ring.
The evidence of a mind is part of its show,
For it opens tastefully with a view to bestow.
Ageless beauty never lacks for praise.
The beauty of life’s spring may lose its glow,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
In poetry and melody its praises we bring,
For mature beauty’s many dimensions we know.
With fervid dignity I see it take to wing,
Giving the young buds an inspiring show.
May you long guide youth as they grow,
Leading them in elegance the celestial ways.
So youth will know how easy beauty may go,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
Now young buds aspire to full blooms grow,
And become worthy of nature’s timeless praise.
Allow your charm in majesty and grace to glow,
And may your ageless beauty have endless days.
The love was a dream so I hope that I keep the length of my life asleep
The series was your love I do not want him to be the end of the
If your love so I hope that breathe air
If your love I want a cigarette that has become addicted to them
The love was a wealth so I hope to live in my body
The love was the most beautiful bird dreamed of his upbringing
Author : Omar Hachmi
Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass.
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are.
Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment.
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers,
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.
A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.
One after another they arrive
Steeping my eyes in the world
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.
My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?
Get on your bike
and get out of my face
it smells of fish and oil
on the beach this peachy day
cape on my shoulders
to fly away
up with the seagulls
I sh*t on your face
Now that the body
has been properly buried
full of the scars
from the wars do I carry
I cannot believe
you all find me scary
I skip full of spirit for
despite this I'm still merry
For on this day
God smiled on me
gave me the sign
to renew my belief
and with his presence
I shall achieve
an eternal life
filled by my infinite energy (S).
I walked desolated in thought.
My life, as is, however, was fulfilled with internal joy.
The privacy I possess was bleak.
An austere appearance I kept.
A woman with child sighs.
I hear her murmur to self that I seem to be upset.
I looked away and said nothing.
My feet begin to drag.
I straighten my poster very fast.
The silence was taking over my mind.
I had not spoken in quite a while.
The screaming down Main Street did not disturb me at all.
I was so deep in thought but very aware of my surroundings.
The bullet came flying in air.
The whispering I heard when I enter the Square was such a pleasant change.
I saw friends sitting there and spoke to them.
The stillness of the afternoon had begun to disintegrate to a pattern of sounds.
The silence I enjoyed was the same as the pleasant environment I enter now.
This old world will continue to prove that it is not that old at all.
The omen is oracle that does not change.
We are life formed.
We employ a difference but only in similar growth.
The silence when heard tells us that we are the manifold.
User Name: Verlena
Pseudonyms: Oblivion Dark Sunshine & Poethics Oblivion Stareyes
I look deeply into The Children's Eye's
The War;Hatred and devastation,Why???
I see it upon the faces of The Elderly Deaths.
The Wisdom We buried as They take Their last Breath.
I have sat with The Forgotten Mentally Ill as I start...
I still See The Promise in Their Souls beyond A concerned Heart.
The Belief with-in Our Hearts:To Heal and cure Our Wills.
I've been to See The Cripple Veterans of Our Wars...
They fought to Preserve Our Lives,Our Dreams,and Protect Our Shores.
I have been risen by fables,literature,and bed time stories.
I have loved The Weak and The Meek risen by Their hard work and Glory.
I have seen PAIN;Buried People and Children that died in Flames...
I know They Are ANGELS walking now in A Kingdom of Heaven domain.
I've had Friends murdered by the fate of Their Own Hands;Anger and Rage...
The Truth pours,As I soak Ink to This very New Page:
For Today blood spills still; My Concerned Thought of The Day!
Peace On Earth seems so distant;just like a small microwave ray.
The Labors and Fruits of Our Principles Fallen from straight Above.
As though Hope walks into Faith lead By LOVE.
It is definitely A Prayer of mine In Completion;Open All Books of Every Season...
For The Spice of Life is inside You;All Angels In Our Pathways For very strong
By Charlene L. Wilcox 09-24-2014
Reflections of imperfections
have shown me a way
that I can move mountains
through my power of faith
even though I can't see him
I know he is real
through the power of prayer
and a Love that I feel
It's growing inside me
like a flower in bloom
shall I reveal my powers
or is it too soon
I am reading the signs
through my darkness I find
a reason for belief in
the light of mankind
that I know shall overcome
the greatest of odds
the Love I seek amazes me
especially through the flaws
because now I am inspired
through the hero's that bring
my throne through the darkness
on which I return on as your King.
Love is a wonder
shared by one another
it's the only reason
I'm not six feet under
Love in which I believe
in a will to sustain
I give back to life, now
in dormant states of pain
The power of Love
may not alone be enough
locked inside my dreams
escape only from above
higher than any human being
has ever gone before
I must have evolved
rise above hate, great once more
My Father taught me wisdom
I am imprisoned no longer
now an beast not of burden
I am no lion, I am stronger
on my shoulder sits twin dragons
long awaiting the day
evil forces come forth to
take what Love is left, away
A Hero of Love light
are what the world needs
angels, not demons
exist where ever you believe
follow your heart's direction
and you shall achieve
objects of affection
rid of materialistic greed
My bright energy
has awakened to a fire
never consuming the source
as the flames just grow higher
that is the desire
of a product we call Love
Fear, the counterpart
what I was once made of
I am slowly learning
how to win when my peace
is harder to sharpen
so I have given my pen leave
the sword has its uses
I must say I believe
to vanquish the evil
in the minds too diseased
to serve any purpose
except their own selfish ones
tomorrow a new day
in the clarity of the sun
where we two are now one
and one done now does
bring about a great change
lit by the righteousness of Love.
I am drifting into memories.
Wasting away like a million photographs fading in the sun-
Yet with ceaseless renewal,
Staining the depths of my eyes with images
In the minds shutter ever fluttering to infinity,
Stringing together this conscious stream I play in-
My stupendous God made of dust and space
Tightrope walking existence!
And to think we too are made of mostly nothing-
Chance so scarcely gracing our atoms with a single touch
In a place so lonely when counted,
Yet so abounding when felt!
So dance with the Dust God
Poised miles above the earth-
Prance on your stilts,
And peek into the great valleys beneath his skin.
Because any moment we could disappear
O My Queen please gets well soon
So you take your cake you asked from Ayah
I know you are in pain
And you know how much I love you my dear
I cannot express how deep I am wounded with pain
The pain you are feeling
It is your destiny to feel such pain in your birthday
It is ordained by Allah so you may be strong enough to face this world
I knew you would be well kalasahanku (my love)
Ayah still thankful to Allah that you are to feel the challenge
But had that challenge could be transferred to me
I am greatly willing to take it to ease you my darling
Be strong enough because Allah still loves you so much
As I do love you My Queen, Ratuka Sihku Ashasulu
Remember and inked this in your heart
Your Ayah indeed loves you so much
I love you so much Anak, I love you so much
And I miss you so much and you are always in my hug
My tears maybe whispers you calmness and peace
If my weep comforts you; I will make you feel it
I am far from you physically, but my love embraces you
You may not see me crying but I am letting you to feel it
You are in my prayer every seconds of the moment
So please get well soon lasa!
27th April 2013. 11:00am
University Condo Apartment, Kota Kinabalu
Ratu still in the Melaka Hospital treated for Leptospirosis
Her birthday is 25th April 2013. Exactly four years old.
Their petals are falling as their colors change
It wasn’t this way before but is it strange?
These roses are dying in delicate sweet sorrow
Will their love shed too? Or will it see tomorrow?
Petals and love falling slow like soft snowflakes
A little change in season is all it takes,
But will these roses bloom again in a new morn?
Will their love come back to greatly adorn?
Will their beauty be gone forever once it fades away?
Or will it come back to make everything okay?
For what will the roses be worth if their beauty dies forever?
Will the image and value from them permanently sever?
Will the light in their eyes suddenly become dark?
As their splendor and significance steadily grow stark?
Or will they rise like light at the beginning of dawn?
And be reborn more beautiful than a swan?
Green lush of green
lush green is green
a leaf of language
a branch of word
a flagstone steps
Heart of the earth is free,
fine arts literature
Green is nature
clarity of thinking
for the future!
Who am I?
W-eaned from tender
age,in noble family of ten.
H-urt by the demise of
the tube that brought
me into this theater of
struggles and pains.
O-rdered about by the
whimps of this
world,facing the hurdles
of life daily from
cradle,never giving up
A-fine young man of 28
I am,who has the
experience and wisdom
of the aged.
M-astering the arts of
life-learning from lessons
of life's victims and
didactic poems 'cos man
of fame I intend to be for
I bear the name Bob.
I-lost my poetic gift at a
stage but recovered it in
poetrysoup for invisible
entities say a
lesser being I shall be,but
another encourages me
to move on,for great is
one who comes out of
the shackles of life
undeterred for this is who
Name: Ifeanyi Bob
You are More than a Friend!
From the first time I knew you - From the first time I met you
Your words, joy, laughter, and peace, were so factual beyond my apprehending
Your inner man, inner beauty and placidness are always out spoken
Your friendship over the years enlighten up my soul, heart and life
Each jiffy I have an opportunity to be in your presence, talk to you, touch your hands
I often do not leave your presence the same-your tender heart often embraces my sorrows
Truly and honestly-You are More than a Friend
People say, friends come and go-For me, true friendship is forever
You have shared your mutual and frank friendship in my life
Despite the distance, silence and absence of your physical being or presences
Your voice and words always whispers in my inner most being
Deeds and words we shared, have built inside our subconscious as eternal memories
Although phantoms self-insecurities have kept us apart all this well,
Just Remember that-You are More than a Friend
Allow me to confess, acknowledge and admit-that fear and doubt
Often hinders us to express our feelings and to share our interior gifts with people we love
But I also highly appreciate your genuineness-your true nature and expression of love
Loving you, being by side and receiving form your deepest inner being is my utmost delight
I will always treasure and cherish our friendship-Because You are More than a Friend
I could not find appropriate way to articulate and convey my feelings and gratitude
But rather than speaking from my heart and through this medium
From my heart-through my talent-means using everything from within
Dearest Friend, I mean everything I said-And said what I mean
Frankly and candidly-You are More than a Friend
i could sit here. day in and day out
thinking of the most proper way
to let the ink in the pen spill out
but as of late im feeling prehistoric
so much weight on my shoulders
and i dont know where to go
resuscitate my soul
look back up and head to the goal
so much evil around. i feel like the devils workin double shifts just to bring me down.
on the road to redemption
you can take a seat up in the front section
just so you can feel the emotions
in this electric notion
i've done a lot of things that hide the halo
let it all collaborate when i medicate
now look at me, mind workin like plato
formulate a new path to take so i can
maneuver through all the mistakes
we all know we cant change what we've already made
but we can change the next thing we create
startin to sound like a serenity prayer
5 steps till im thirty
and the twenty four before i was never a player
found out when the lights came back on im strictly a lover
its the strongest drink for your soul, when its thirsty
so careful how much you intake or be left hungover
even worse be the one she ran over
i dont mean to come off like im too deep
but the obstacles made there way through just to scrape through
and leave me suffocating
just for me to re-invent a new way to breathe, re-decorating
is your life so complicated
you rather wet up your pillows and revoke from the life you live
just think of your kids mourning
theyll never see that pretty face in the morning any more
cheer your self up
you got a lot to live for
your a gem and im that friend
trynna appraise the value
that you dont see inside of you
just another day for him
searchin wonderin what his purpose is
running in circles
till he found a way through all the turbulence
Walking alone is deep.
I want to savour this nature.
I imagined this colonial structure.
How do people live those times?
I don't mind of being under colony.
But I would fight not to be under tyranny.
Suluk is part of Sandakan development.
William Pryer lives with them.
That modern "Jalan Pryer" is incorrect.
Coincide with the original "Jalan Praya" as it is believed.
This building is of colonial.
That blue sky with twigs dye.
I walked alone and pass by.
Wind is blowing.
Car is horning.
I walked in the morning.
I missed this jogging.
It's been a decade I did running.
Now I want to do it again.
I want to achieve something.
Something is not a thing,
But a way a healing thing.
Happy Sunday for today,
I did to jog yesterday.
I want it done every day.
I won't let that go away.
I hope so I will do it really.
Good morning Sunday.
I love you every day.
I simply love being me
for I am so good at everything
step into my city and they
will tell you who is King
one day when I am hungry
I will swallow everything
then and only then shall I
inherit the stuff I dream
even then I promise
not to settle for satisfaction
at any instant half a second
I could spring into full action
so go against me? please,
you do not even measure
up to half of the goodness
that I hold tight like my treasure
still spreading rumors about me
to try and destroy my life
can't believe I let myself get beat by
a stripper and my self-intended knife
try and say I'm gay
even though we both know that isn't the truth
just ask any woman I been with
if they ever needed proof
they'll say I was the cream of the crop
as they took it all night knowing
I just may never stop
I own the status of a legend
now what you got left to say
when I bring it twenty-four seven?
HANDMAIDEN OF MOON DANCING
fly me to stars in the thrill of one swan night
over a crescent arc to feel a flame of sighs,
teasing dreams so silent yet ever wild
and like a neon light, speak through your feet ,
your ribs twirling in drips of summer’s rage : throw
away the restraint of confined movements
dictated by a body unmoved; of a flower
keeping her flutters from crawling freely on grass
give me a sway through leaps unto ocean’s swell
without need for thought or reason, rather,
lift the flesh made from love or hate, to burst
with primitive heat; fingers liquid in motion unbidden
by a sacred place that doesn’t exist on earth, when
all but the fragrance of a naked skin expresses
the very force that writhes in the faint of depth,
licking the cells inside out.. weightless, bold, soft
dance the crazy dance with me just because
such passion needs to flow along rhythms
burning within… till a weave of spin breaks
into a trance blending a wanton glide with
pirouetting flights raw in some meadow clearing,
pious pose under the tangerine of touch…
handmaiden of moonlight dancing on flames
pluck those eyes ,rise above mortal remains.
*i tweaked this free verse with a sonnet’s volta
in the last two lines (10 syl rhyme count instead
of the usual 8 syl pattern)
*Martha Graham is the pioneer of modern dance. As a ballet dancer
and choreographer, she introduced inner movement emphasizing
emotion, spontaneity, and an exploration of psycho-social themes
( feminism, political protest, and labor unrest)through free -flow
of innovative steps, thwarting cultural control over conventional,
metered dance. Her last performance on-stage was in 1970,
at the age of 76; she was working on the choreography for the Olympics
when she died in 1991 at the age of 97.
Graham was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1976
by President Gerald Ford and cited by Time Magazine as
"Dancer of the Century" in 1988, aside from her other accolades.
*Source: Wikipedia.com and www.voanews.com
‘ ‘’’’’ ‘’’’
For Cyndi Mac Millan’s Maverick by nette onclaud
Arts will always
have a place in my
Arts will remind of
life that shall
It is the art of
that awakes me from
The art of melodies
will touch and
soften my heart.
And the art will
for a design of my
Azan is rendered
with an artful
will take a man to
It is the art that
As man, I am one of
the most beautiful
Allah's work of
Everything is art,
language and words.
Good speech is a
Good morning art.
An art that I most
love is the art of
"I love you, peace".