In the land of Damascus, in 1889,
A photo taken, of a friendship so fine.
The subject of which, were two remarkable men,
There's a lot we could learn, from listening to them.
Very different fellows, Muhammad and Samir,
Both from different faiths, let's make that clear.
Muhammad was Muslim, religious devout,
But his friend, Samir, he could not do without.
Samir was Christian but needed Muhammad as much.
Because he was blind, feeling only by touch.
Muhammad was disabled, unable to walk,
But could direct Samir, when they needed to walk.
And so they became, the best of lifelong friends,
Combining their strengths, as means to ends.
Carried on Samir's back, Muhammad was his guide,
On one another, they each relied.
They lived in the same house, until Samir passed away,
Leaving Muhammad to grieve, for many a day.
Crying at the loss, of his "eyes" and his friend,
The unbearable pain of which, brings his own life to end.
Dying of grief, seems a sad end to this tale,
But their inspiration, is in what we should regale,
Two opposing faiths showed there is always hope.
Helping each other, in learning to cope.
He’s out of my reach, he’s out of my
League
But he’s the reason why I
Head to Publix every
Week
I’ve barely said a word to him, and yet
I make my way through every
Aisle
Just to catch a glimpse of him
Then maybe catch his eye
And smile
He rarely ever sees me as he puts some
Groceries
Into bags, but some days I get
Lucky
And he’ll look up and smile back
He’ll never know that I’m just standing there
Waiting for the day he speaks to
Me
He always ends up busy, and so
Remains a mystery
In result, I always leave the scene with
My
Head spinning round and my
Tongue
In my cheek. Because while no one can
Decipher the look I wear on my
Face,
He’ll always be so close to me, one
Week and one aisle
Away
I hope one day his voice will find me,
Even
Just to say hello, even if it’s just
In passing
As I walk by and turn to go
I hope one day he’ll read this poem and hear
All
I have to say
But for now I’ll keep my hopes up
For one week and one aisle
Away
One day I chanced to walk by a spirit of a dead man,
And he looked unto me with wizened eyes
And he asked "Child, what is life to you, this darkness and this light?"
And to him I said:
We rise into the light when we are born -
- And we fall into the dark when we die.
And to that he shook his head and clucked his tongue
And said this ethereal to me:
We are thrown into the light at birth -
- And we are shoved into the dark at death.
And so left me this dead man, left me wiser than my smooth unwrinkled face would show.
© Samir Georges
2010
I came upon a regal maiden
Draped in a pinkish hew of light,
She sat nestled in a bed of auburn hair
Checkered and entwined with lilacs
Her supple form , raised up on slender elbows
Her body in embrace with the light, chin held high
Like a stone, given away only by her neck
Lifted to the world like a neck awaiting a headsman;
My first fancy was to reach up and take her in my arms
But upon approach
I feared the razor sharp thorns that nestled her
The vipers and the shadows that circled her
So I crept up to this bed of thorns and vipers
To the sound of my shuffling, she looked down upon me with a knowing gaze
And I unrolled my heavy tongue and said to her
"Name me a name, so that I can remember you for who you are"
Then she smiled the smile of a wizened parent
And sang unto my aching form
"I have had many a name,
From the passion of the moment between star-crossed couples,
to the pride of a warrior on his countries soil
From the cradling arms of mothers
And the willful bond of brothers"
And so I knew her for lady love
And I braced the thorns and wrestled the vipers.
© Samir Georges
2010
The child ran
Monsters chasing, always racing
The child is running
Crying and running
And behind him came chasing
Abandoned dreams
Nightmares of regret:
Monsters.
© Samir Georges
2010
I look up on a crisp clear morning
And I sight the heavens,
I envision the gods of ancient Rome
And I see
I see the limitless world
Ripe for my winged conquest -
- But now it is dusk
And I look up again, at a dark dreary dusk
A blanket of rippled grey clouds cages my vision
And as the flaming red giant settles for the night
It casts a red deep hue across the bloated belly of the clouds
And I feel drowned
A fish with no gills gazing at the surface of its cage
Red ripples of cloud rolling over, an enshrouding blanket,
And as my wings of naivety wither
And I drown
I cannot but think how beautiful a sight my cage truly makes as I gaze up at it wistfully
© Samir Georges
2010
I forget what form of poetry this is (wrote it for English class a while back.)
Swallow within your own, Panic!
Wriggling in its strong grasp, Suffering!
Subdued beneath its murk, Frantic!
Twitching weakly with hope, Flickering!...
Peacefully captive lost soul, Unspoken…
Recalling events long past, Ebbing…
Neglected feelings pour out, Broken .
© Samir Georges
2007
One night a genie came to me
And of reality he set me free.
© Samir Georges
2010
The world grew bright, as it always did
Squinting, The crippled boy rose on his arms, as he always did
And upon his little shoulder rested a worn wooden plank
And this plank, atop his little frame, shook and shook his arms as well
For on this plank danced a troupe of merry little friends,
To the tune of naivety,
And as his little friends did dance
This crippled world shook on its weary arms
Its' little warped legs long ago wasted and spent;
And as the world grew dark, and the music slowed
The dancers, arm in arm, retired to warming beds, laughing
So this little boy let out a little sigh, matched by the echo of laughter
And while all his friends heard was joy,
All his little ears heard was mocking;
And in this stale night, where no one could see
The boy bent his elbows and fell there on the ground
There he shook and he whimpered, and he cried for a mother he never knew
And when his arms stopped shaking, and his heart stopped beating
His chest stopped sobbing,
He set his little face with a determined look as he gazed into the dark:
...Tomorrow is another day. As it always is.
© Samir Georges
2010
I take firm grasp of the handle
My goal reflected in the steel of the knife,
I put the knife to its green face
Its' checkered skin;
I flex my bicep, grimace with thirst
I remember the day’s troubles,
The day’s triumphs, And I cut
The blade breaks the rough surface
Shatters the smooth oval,
And sinks deep into the soft redness beneath
Juice flows over my hands, and I forget my thoughts,
I reach in and take firm grasp of its heart
I wrench it out with red dripping fingers
Slobbering it into my mouth
The sweetness of the watermelon sends my heart racing with joy
And I reminisce that I had forgotten the plate.
P.S, for those who may not know, the sweetest part of the watermelon is the heart (hence
reaching for the heart)
© Samir Georges
2010
The world slumbers past the rise of the moon
And the mist of dark creeps upon Us like a blanket of shadow,
Crawling from the farthest horizon
As the world falls under the mist
Mortal genies crawl out of the cracks in the earth
And one by one they eavesdrop on our dreams
One by one they hoard our secrets
Star-crossed lovers and dusk veiled bandits,
And as dawn wills itself to rise
The mortal genies take their well kept secrets
And scurry into their cracks in the earth
Ready to rise in the morning amongst the rest of men,
As the mist of dark fades away and recedes to the horizon
And the moon stretches back to its eternal bed
The sun greets it with a knowing smile
And the Moon replies of mortal men:
“Alas, if only keeping secrets from Us
Were as easy as keeping their secrets from one another”
© Samir Georges
2010
The tall rock stood on the beach
Lonely amidst the multitude of its lesser brothers
He looked down on them, each a weak shade of brown
Not Golden like the sun that bakes them, not crystal like the waves that rake them;
The lesser brothers of the sand looked up to the mighty rock
And they asked it, a voice as one,
Yelling to reach its grand ears
Yelling against the echoing beating of the waves at their shore
"Why so lonely dearest brother?"
And the rock would shudder against the song of the waves
The grand rock would yell down:
"How can I not be alone, when all my brothers have succumbed to the beating of the waves
And become lesser men?"
And his lesser brothers turned away from his scornful gaze,
His brothers of the sand turned as one and faced the coming waves
And they fell by the millions;
And the lonely rock looked at his fallen brothers,
How they still stood tall against the foe that felled greater men
And in the light of this moon
The tall rock stood small amongst grander men
© Samir Georges
2010
The King turned to the men to his left
To his right
And he asked:
Are you my men?
And they answered:
Not until you take your golden scepter to our heads
Will we take our copper scepters to our loyalties,
And so they rode
The race of man
Following their leaders over the cliff
The Diamond scepter of reality.
© Samir Georges
2010
A bed of grass is so mundane
It sways in the winds as the most fickle of things
And yields to the foot of man and beast and bug
It is mowed and sowed on the whim of men
And as i stretch upon this brittle mattress
I am dazzled by the floating skies, the whistling breeze, and my comforting memories
And not this dreary bed of grass
And so love, to me, is like the sweet dew of the morning green
As I lay back upon this nestling bed of grass
It wraps my weary spine in a cool, welcome embrace
And I think not of the dull blue sky, the incessant breeze or my nagging memories
Instead I think how the dampness seeps into my back
And how the cool bed of grass spreads shivers to my every ache
And I breathe a sigh of relief,
All because of this sweet dew on the morning green
© Samir Georges
2010
This is a poem I wrote long ago and although I no longer feel the same way, it was something
that compelled me to write and I thought I'd share.
I give up
I was so careless
You try so hard
You strive so blindly
Your will of strife
Lost in reality
I think I better leave
Lie to you and to myself
Please answer my cries
Those silent cries
Those cries that tare me apart
Answer them before I leave
Can I gaze into your eyes and fall into my coffin with a smile?
Those beautiful eyes, crystal, yet so murky
So deep yet so plain
Can I gaze at my dreams and dread my loss?
Or shall you answer these cries?
I offered my heart
You gave it back in pieces
I offered my words
You gave them back as whispers
I offered my ears and never again was I to hear anything as beautiful as your voice
Can I have a nod?
Maybe a kiss goodbye
Or a wink
I guess I better leave
I’m leaving my heart behind
I’m leaving my emotions
I’m leaving my dreams
My careless self behind.
© Samir Georges
2004
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