Speech of Tears – Zamreen Zarook
Drops of tears from our purl conveys a lot,
Each an every shedding has a ballot,
By identifying the core, our hands should allot,
Because, some might be extremely as shallot.
Chipper and blissfulness gives you cool tears,
Whereas in console and divesting flow hot tears,
Fear and pains give drains of tears,
Nothing that can be patch with dollars.
Some deliveries are automatic,
While some productions are acoustic,
Another drain says I am really bombastic,
Tears are at last solely cubistic.
They convey the emotions,
People go in search for solutions,
They become happy when they are with the precautions,
Reactions again as the tears, it’s the real abbreviation.
When it comes our time to be laid underground
Our voices now silent...we utter no sound
Our minds stop working and our thoughts disappear
We've finally ended those life living years
Some souls go up..some souls go down
Our bodies remain..six feet underground
We're thought of often from friends true and strong
After days turn to months some forget we are gone
So when you look in the mirror each morning think this
After a while you'll no longer exist
So grab life by the horns and enjoy each day
And if it's possible try to keep the grim reaper at bay
Love your wife your children and all of your friends
Your cousins your brothers ..all of your kin
And remember this..... Someday you'll be gone
So never live your life sad and alone
Smile each morning and throughout the day
Your time here is short...the days fade away
Enjoy your life... while it's yours to keep
Until the time comes for everlasting sleep.
As you grow, happy moments shrink,
At some day, skin aches when you smile,
These are just ordinary lines, or
Maybe just exaggerated tales,
‘D thought so but no fraction of idea,
It could be real, as real as you dwell in it,
Just like another story,
How a freckled face glance down,
Why arched brows are falling down,
The crow lines of eyes say it,
When it aches to smile,
Wearing it which was disowned years back
Don’t spell or stare or nod,
May face lays as in absence of suspicion
Knot of rope around my neck,
What changed or happened,
Somebody sprinkled dust on freshly painted canvas,
That Blush of youth _with self-indulged soul,
Beauty reflected in the eyes wide open,
Then agonizing hand interfered,
So made me wore this,
The face you don’t look at.
I have told enough, misery loses its grief,
If explained to satisfy that deaf ear,
Let it prevail, the dust,
Let me blacken myself in the stained canvas,
For that is what meant, and so,
Let this veiled face pray, in the shadow,
For the last breath, not for shrine,
Lived in mundanely and so did suffer,
Shall die in that ordinariness too,
If life asked you about my tiredness,
Don’t blame a name but a cure,
Which is desperately awaited, let her know.
A full moon night
to my delight
what is so wrong
with doing what's right
nothing is right
after so long
no use in complaining
time to move on
The Dream Water one day
might take me away
farther from the comfort
I float on my back
then shut my eyes
my body now sinking
into ocean arms open wide
Now swallow your son
back to his nature
when he is no longer
needed to stay here
the next generation
are dooming themselves
they need my experience
to guide them through hell
Why should I bother
on my own, I strive through
I turn my back on the thought
of bothering to save you
alone in this world
my, is it spacious
I'm finally smiling,
never so gracious.
My Time Has Come
My time is over here in this body
I am being called home as my work is done here
I hear my Lords voice calling me home
Although I know I will miss this old world
With all that I have seen and done
All the People I have met and talked to
My body can go on no more for it has reached it’s time
Rev. Samuel Mack, OMS
Show me a clear midsummer’s day, and I
Shall reveal the coldness lurking beneath
For which the mortals heave a knowing sigh
In kind, the winter bares her savage teeth
Yet we, who know better than to implore
Play games with Time that are cruelly coy
Always to have less than ever before
And thus is the fickle manner of joy
To depart tenfold as quick as it came
Seeking first the ones who try to hold fast
For all who dare speak that elusive name
Breathe tender eulogies of summers past
Fear not, for the blush of this earth entombed
Shall run our blood until we are exhumed
O my graveyard
How I do find it hard
That I must sleep with you
“Until we meet again”
How sweet that sounds, my friend
But we both know it isn’t true
O my own death
How I’ll cherish that last breath
When I’m waiting here for you
I know this life must end
And how sad this is, my friend
But there’s nothing we can do
I do not know?
At peace, I lay
and hear you say
that all will be okay.
But it’s a lie,
‘twixt you and I,
for I am soon to die.
Yes, I am soon to die.
At peace, I lay
This final day
You know I cannot stay.
It’s time to fly
into the sky,
my love, our last goodbye.
This is our last goodbye.
At peace, I lay
I’ll look away
while fervently you pray.
You’ll heave a sigh,
I’ll wipe your eye,
then hold you ‘til I die.
I’ll hold you ‘til I die.
Please hold me ‘til I die.
YOU ARE NEXT!
Wedding coat finery
covering my wretched dismay.
After pinching cheeks
aunties would always say,
“You are next!”
as if saying made it so.
Countless times it happened
no matter how often I said no.
Until I discovered how to stop it
using this little ironic gem;
now when I see them at family funerals
I started saying it to them!
She sits there, knitting
It’s the same deal with worker bees
A continuous addition, to completion
Shameful, that I keep tugging this loose thread
She's knitting for nothing
I think she knows too