I shot all the letters, my love, in the silent dawn of night,
From my last unread book, the pages remain unstarted,
The poems exchanged their corpses for impersonal words,
Full of blind ideas, like echoes fading in the valley unheard.
Turning the phrase on the erased spot of the final point,
A yellow, vegetal form becomes a banal detail in joint,
Leading us to the forgotten trash heap's communal grave,
A swirling fervor, a strange cross, a destiny tangled and grave.
After so many loves and insults, let's dream of each other anew,
Not just our most uncultured dreams, but in another view,
Conscious punctuation marks sent to the earth we embrace,
Old creations now hollow, a NULLity of words with no grace.
Let's lose ourselves in the silence of words that echo no more,
In an esoteric dance of thoughts flowing slowly to the core,
In a world where magic and melancholy meet and blend,
And in an eternal dream, my love, let's find and love again.
Bits of pieces,
Scattered around,
To pick them up,
is what must be done,
Shifted about,
The broom sweeps,
What left underneath,
Is none of my concern,
Scoured away,
Evanesced by each beating minute,
Concealed far apart from my sight,
There is nothing to be noticed,
Cipher left behind,
Nullity lingers here,
Nothing was here,
Indifference, it never was.
By Sarah Shahzad, July 2024
I thought, like a net unknotted, puzzles would be solved.
With the question, 'Who am I? What's the purpose of my life?
I was wrong. Like the palbeu, no one knew where knots revolved.
Each question, like thorns midst blooms, had anxiety and strife.
Like winter after fall, when war ends, roguery begins.
Uncertainty, like unexpected earthquakes, surfaces.
Emptiness and self-contamination rise like past sins.
Absurdity and nullity erase life's purposes.
People commence their expeditions and never return.
Journeys begin in merriment, and with mourning, they end.
With writes of fate on each one's head, what can humans discern?
Many are kith and kin; but when times are thin, there's no friend.
If everything ends with death, what's, then, existence about?
Do I have an endless life? This is the soul-swaying doubt.
Steep, sharp, split, and, as an abandoned architecture, weak
How I managed to get to its top, I truly don't know.
Fear, frustration, angst, awe, and helplessness were at their peak.
Over the sea beneath the cliffs, worn-out yachts slowly row.
On whom should I put my faith at this hour of nullity?
What a fool am I who could go up and couldn't come down?
Amidst tensions and terrors, thrills find no utility.
In the circus of existence, have I become a clown?
A tinge of pain and despair mingles with my loneliness.
Avalanches of aches fill and drill my physique and psyche.
I pray to Neptune, Najm, and Xama; crawl down in coolness.
Though well-drowned and dead in dread, I touch the fringes of Nike.
Each precipice venture is one's inner soul's exploration.
Midst the loss of self, there's divine identification.
That stiff-neckedness; that boulder-like stoneness
The so-called track-travel; that perfection-proneness
The 'looking-down-upon' others as backboneless
That sharp surety of sheer, shadowless shallowness
All came to a standstill like a train on a halt.
I felt something stopping my voluntary vault.
'Take it easy'—I heard the inner self prompting.
'There's a need for reciprocating and bonding.
Perfectionism has high streams of expectations.
Thoughtlessness fills and fixes all fluctuations.
Critical, unrealistic ruthless morals
Leads to my depression, unmet goals, and laurels.
Fear, failure, procrastination, low self-esteem
Nullity and nothingness enter a clear stream.
Like a wounded dove amidst vultures, I suffer.
The environmental zeitgeist turns stone tougher.
I should be calm, cool, and consciously cogitate.
To follow out, I must mindfully meditate.
Thus, like a serene, solemn stream searching the sea
I plunged into the hunt for my lost true 'me.
Shedding that glittering gift-paper-wrapped spirit
And securing a supple self to my merit
This change of mind has now taken on newer roots.
In my thoughts, words, and deeds, bringing abundant fruits
Temporal Dilettante Journalist
David J Walker
no-thing need not name the nameless
breaks the morning in disguise
shakes the shame and wakes the shameless
quench tormented turbid eyes
the bootless errand realized
who shakes the hand but shuns the banquet
a polymath of nullity
a picnic spread on follies blanket
the argot of a fervent plea
omnifarious frivolity
dante sings symphonic anthems
measured meters latin chants
pardons plied to paphian sanctions
the queen retorts in satin rants
a paupers portion the monarch grants
bemoans the message minimalized
Ripples from a rain fill a bowl of passion.
Small ducks quacking in a waddled fashion.
A light breeze blew across the soft fur.
The brown beach beckons for one to occur.
Making stained-glass-like hand gesture.
As a stepping stone leading to a joy banner.
To the sky, a foreboding twilight blue.
The cleft is ruffled and tossed through.
Marigolds remain in the midst of serenity.
Shrinkage of the feeble results in nullity.
With mother's thinking resolves all hope.
To the summit of a dizzyingly steep slope.
In the shape of a duck cloud, it is resting.
Fields are flung at the worst of the gathering.
I finally started by plucking a vibrant blossom.
I went up the tower, like a gentle heirloom.
They're diminishing, like dewdrops on grain.
Against a red sky, lost echoes suck up the pane.
Written: April 13, 2022
Idea of nullity, gives you fixity,
Prayer to the Almighty, gives life utility,
Love simplicity, gain multiplicity,
Accept relativity, attain normality,
Avoid formality, attain regularity,
With good activity, attain reliability,
With a purity, show sufficient sanity,
Love and affection should be of utmost priority,
Exploit every opportunity, you have enormous ability,
Understand the profit of integrity,
Feel blessed with touch of divinity,
Remove all sorts of negativity,
Add all kinds of positivity,
Life becomes free from attrocity,
And attain utmost supremacy,
With immortal legacy,
If one accepts the supreme authority.
Africa,
Upon this vantage pedestal I see you,
i gaze from this hollow quest,
away from the home of my ancestors,
a sojourner for a time,
I yearn,
to tread again the beautiful climate of my origin,
where no strange stares forbids my freedom,
Africa,
Did I hear the enthralling songs?
The chirping sounds of the birds,
The brilliant coruscations,
the evening tales by moonlight,
Oh! Nature, never saw you tainted.
it is different here,
Africa, A vast exotics land of combination,
with lush emerald jungles
vistas of burning stars,
and torrential white river,
the mountains unharvested,
the hills uncrowded,
Africa,
we smile without suspicion
not hunted "like partridges upon the mountain"
We breathe though poor
Yet rich in morals
I am a prisoned sojourner here,
men speed away uncaring.
locked in debts called homes,
bills buries friendship,
and for wood hay and stubble,
nature becomes a nullity,
in motions like robots,
we wake, we work, and wear our frame
Africa i hear you call
Engage your mind always in thinking of Me, offer obeisances and worship Me.
Being completely absorbed in Me, surely you will come to Me.
(Gita chapter 9 verse 34)
Note: Bhagvad Gita is an ancient Indian spiritual treatise.
____________________________________________________________
You have only this time in hand,
The moment where you stand,
Tomorrow is uncertain,
You may not be alive then.
Clock ticking continuously,
Brings you near death constantly,
You better take it seriously,
Otherwise life will slip away to nullity.
Thoughts of past and present,
Lead to a life of illusion,
Bodily living, mentally in delusion,
That is not intelligence.
You are a part of infinite,
Born to achieve eternal bliss,
Rare is a chance to be human,
It is stupidity to miss.
Think of the lord throughout the day,
Dedicate your work to him,
Surrender unto him,
With faith and devotion you will surely reach him.
I shall not envy the upstart's polished gait,
Or wish myself as old knights in diamonds
Hued to bamboozle familiar souls and eye,
Flattered by aping pals and ersatz blondes.
For swanky gait soon in quiet slumbers lies
In darkest gloom beyond men's urging eyes;
Where kowtowing lip trills no ego-oiling tune
To laud vain legs that all wise sense impugn.
Since old knights and their fabled crystals fall
Into gloomy abysms past all plagiarized cheer,
And their wide glows sheer shifting dreams be;
Which deft poet thereon docks his sailing soul?
As for manipulable eyes and souls of fan-stars,
And idol blondes cued to flatter clumsy knights;
Are not both simple wit and truth strictly averse
To all such visionless ego-trip and short-sights?
Give upstart parvenus and 'knights' whole pomp,
I'll claim the simple logic they so mulishly tromp!
If there was no tomorrow*
Hope could not glow to vanquish today’s sorrow.
With no tomorrow to anticipate
There would be no great event wherein to participate.
In tomorrow’s absence
Faithlessness is a logical license.
Losing tomorrow’s essence, truly wondrous
Leads to future’s futility, indeed disastrous.
Having no tomorrow means no reason to live now
Making unreasonable every present know-how.
Amidst warning’s nullity caused by tomorrow’s void
Vanity prevails with no worthlessness to avoid.
When tomorrow can’t come
Everybody will miss love’s sweet welcome.
Bereft of tomorrow with its blessings’ bounty
Mankind is filled with misery of anxiety.
Robbed from the certainty of tomorrow’s assurance
Souls face despair of grievous endurance.
The Lord be thanked for His promised tomorrow’s grace
Upholding spirits toward worshipful praise.
*Exodus 9:5 And the LORD appointed a set time, saying, To morrow the LORD shall do this thing in the land.
August 20, 2019
2nd place, "What if there was no tomorrow" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 8/24/2019.
I am all subject to decay
For I am but clay.
Subdued by death,
I return to the earth.
I am a conscript;
A divine script
On time's throne.
Perseverance is the proof
Of election, elders say
Of nullity of damnation
On the Judgment day
As chrysalis transforms
To liveliness from stasis
Shall mortals be transformed
At the anastasis
Let the trumpet sound
And every sin be hated
And in Almighty God
Let every soul be sated
I need you,
my words echo in the distance,
into an abyss of darkness-
Your eyes sparkled and I spoke with my fingers.
Your touch, it held me...
my words you grasp.
I need you,
my words were deep seeded
in reminiscence into a chasm of nullity.
Your fever broke and I awoke with you by my side.
Your lips, they held me...
my verses you comprehend.
Humanity resists with adherence,
yet you show discern for my complicated mind-
Your mouth without guile,
your hands toil to eternity to provide our daily bread.
You curl your grace around my spine,
the heavens fall and tremble at my feet.
I need not anticipation of tomorrow
as my sorrow is bloodstained and
I am reborn.
Does this love even make sense?
There are too many metaphors to disentangle-
too many syllables to count.
For the comfort of my skin against yours
outweighs any fallacies we may encounter.
Your Favourite Free Verse Poem From October 2017
or November 2017 Poetry Contest
Julia Ward
November 1, 2017
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