in
falling
leaves
summer
memories
Stared at the ashes of burned bridges
Blank and free, stripped of emotion
Densely piled through the ages
Obscured from memory, no recollection
The scorching fire came not from inside
Unaware even that a tether exists
A consciousness bound in receding tides
Resembles a sun to an evening mist
Wasted by life’s strange concoction
Dampened hopes, dimmed sight
In a cobweb of confused emotions
Wildly spun, tangled tight
Lost while traveling the selfless road
Regret revealed what truly matters
Reached the isle of pain—cold and broad
Relief, now, found behind closed shutters
Solitude, a consolation offered
To an existence where others once lived
A need for what remains to be spared
When value, in the absence, is perceived
REMNANTS OF NATURE-:-
robust
energetic
anecdotes
oddly
ambivalent
in PASSIVE POSTURE
precludes
underlined
titles
deliberately
subverted
in COUNTER IMAGE
emphatically
unstable
impressions
theoretically
subjective
Remnants of passion littered on the ground,
Drops of blood from the lips of hounds.
Running might save you,
But the door’s locked,
And your soul’s frostbitten.
Recall-
The ache to leave.
There’s a standstill. A hush,
Before you dash.
The longing won’t be sealed,
And you’ll think it’s your chance
To fly, to flee, to be.
But you can’t unclip these wings,
You can’t undo these manacles.
You fly in circles
Over charred lands.
Watching fragments of hope
drift in quiet winds.
There are remnants of dreams scattered on the ground,
A deflated ball of hope.
You look in your hand
And find you’re holding scissors.
---Abi.
Rock salted fields hard-by thwacking sea's
shorelines of wave-shaved boulders
a fluidity that mimics an oceans alien speech.
The fractured artifacts of tribal migrations
roll in the surf as grains of an ancient sand,
there are hints and a sense of raw faiths,
of the obscure paint of submerged visages,
facets only visible
through the eroded lens of a former doom.
On these shifting margins,
insipient nations as naked as any roaming wind
declined amidst their own young bones,
laying down to wither away in exhausted camps.
Rinsed by a ceaseless ebb and flow,
the stonewashed threads of the bygone
suggest landscaped formations
of humanity.
We have seen the rise and fall of the scattered,
their cultures a supposition of burnt offerings,
yet we should also
confess to a towering significance:
one that we estranged settlers
will eventually leave as a jigsaw of watermarks,
or as further innocent signs
of our own barbaric existence.
over winter’s blast
a woodland trail, branches, twigs
no leaves left to blow
You were a remnant
from the hurricane,
blowing into my life
suddenly,
like a refugee
on storm~tossed
waves of destruction.
Flooding my life
with category five
winds of desire,
leaving me wrecked,
naked and bare,
like old driftwood
on the beach of despair.
There is always something
unspeakable in what remains—
a fractured spectrum of what once was,
scattered in the leftover bits:
half-maimed, dismembered,
and quietly rejected,
in what we scrape into the compost bin.
Every spick and speck reeks
of the aftertaste of endings —
with our recycled grief and rejection
dissolving in the detritus
of what we could not finish.
Remnants of Our Lives
Pieces of our lives captured
in small snapshots.
A single moment in time, frozen
for the world to see.
Fragments of a once whole life
now shattered.
Jagged parts of a puzzle which
can’t be put back together.
Are our lives mere blips in time strung
together like a necklace?
If this is so, the whole concept of completeness
goes out the window.
Life becomes a random set of convergences
with no meaning or direction.
There is no one single beginning
or ending.
Hawk Tuah, Flock Tuah,
Struggles of dating a babe,
she treating me like a slave,
intimacy is what I crave.
Stupid girl,
Stupid me,
Why do I get fried
just so I don't remember I cried.
I still remember your easily smiling face, poetry spilling from your lips
Singing joyfully at the dead of night, not a care in the world.
Oh how I miss your face when it was alive,
When it was not hardened, frozen,
unfeeling.
Was it God’s love what drove yours away?
For what reason does the Sun rise; rousing this cold star?
Was it for this the bullets flew? Was England worth
Stealing your innocence away, carelessly, flippantly,
selfishly?
Our country is filthy with ignorance, the front clean and pure,
Snowy white feather mocking, girls giggling gallantly,
Surprise when I snarl, stumble back; shocked.
The Soldier's uniform staves off the dove,
its curse.
Desperately lingering in your gaze, I search in the abyss,
The most loving part of you asleep, or dead.
Nothing I can do can make it stir, still I reach for you,
Ragged, scarred skin, they’re only remnants of your service,
my dear.
The jolt of terror evoked not from your maimed face,
One side ripped, gouged of recognition, eye mangled,
But from the other, undamaged pupil unmoving,
Emotions missing, heart agape, your brain stone,
Empty.
At the 11th hour 200 stars & a sun
fell from the heavens
scorching the earth when
they arrived
The beautiful garden was now
tainted by sin & beastly passions
that stopped at nothing
til they devoured
The world cowered at the feet
of their creations conceived
& was painted red
with blood as
what they birthed caused
many to grieve
It's been said that there were
giants in those days
so fierce that even the likes of lions
trembled at the sight of them
Fighting them was a futile
act & God shed tears
from bright eyes so great
that it caused a flood
sparing only a few
Rumor has it their spirits live on
til this day in the hearts
of some
on a smaller scale
as they await release from
the spiritual jail in which
they were cast
The dye was cast long ago
by some that predicted
their return
but we may not live to see
that day or ever know
to be concerned
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
My Heart pours out remnants
of nothingness as I create in
form from Universes unknown
Union becomes Duality
a dash between birth and death
then disappears back
to Source from whence it sprung
for to remain in form is to be captive to
space and time
So does Purity only live
where no illusions dwell
in super seconds of no boundaries yet no escape
frequencies of freedom fashioned
timidly we taste
It remains a shadow we all chase in our
thousand million moments to bring
Heaven down to Earth before we are called
back again bowing —— b u o y a n t l y !
The rain of last night
has given way
to clouds and sun.
The leaves on a tree
in the next yard
have turned color
and some have fallen
while the cool wind
sings a song
of the season.
In comfort of solitude
I look out the window
thinking of old friends
and old loves.
Their voices linger
in stillness of the morning
a reflection of the seasons
a moment’s recollection
after I travelled many
highways and roads.
And today
the kitchen needs sweeping
and I must pick up remnants
lying on the floor.
The dryer is humming
and a breeze sings
a song without words
as I wait for someone
to come
and look at my poems
and ask about my life
Although the day’s warm
I must remind myself
that a cold wind will blow
and summer will become
a memory as we go
through our daily lives.
A bird on a limb
cries out then is gone
a forgotten dream
and my laptop
offers a soft glow
as a new verse
seeks the light of day.
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