The UnReal

A piece of wood adrift on the ocean ,
Tossed by the waves with destiny uncertain ,
Colour fading , into thin air ,
A breeze dying , oh , despair !
The moon passing , behind a cloud ,
A smile turning into a frown ,
A flower falling to the dust ,
A song ending , as it must .

Suddenly , I felt withered and old ,
My vision was dim , weak my hold ,
My arms wrinkled , my back bent,
Lord where had all those years been spent !


There I am......... in the fallen leaves,
Scattered on the floor,
And sometimes in the wild breeze,
That blows on the shore,
I sometimes cry with the dark clouds,
That hover around the moon,
Or maybe fret with the restless rays,
Miserable at noon.
I ripple with the merry stream,
That sings its way along,
And fly away with the gentle wind,
That blows through night and morn.
I find myself in all these things,
And yet I feel alone,
Trapped as if in a cage,
Of flesh and blood and bone!

In my quiet walks in solitude,
My heart brings forth your visage,
Of a dearly loved companion,
Like a prayer or like a yearning.

I am sometimes full of gratitude,
As I face my personal kaaba,
Sometimes pour out my sorrows,
And sit before you sobbing, 

When I sit in a state of beatitude,
Your magical words adorn me,
With ornaments and jewels,
With comfort and consoling.

You seem to speak of fortitude,
Yet gently and with love,
Your stillness and serenity,
Like Nur I find enlightening.

The Message ( in my walks outside )

The sky smiles, and is fond of me,
The stars twinkle and laugh with me,
The seas spread out to embrace me,
And send their waves to greet me.
The breeze surrounds and caresses me,
The rainbow pleasing in all glory,
The flowers bloom, for me to see.
The trees whisper secrets to me,
Suddenly, it dawns on me............, 
They are telling me,
That God likes me ! 

Arriving at mystical Islam ( sufism )


Must I try to pray perfectly,                                                                                                              Must I cleanse my heart well ?
Does it matter to God Almighty
Will He cast us into Hell ?                                                                                                  

Must I deal with matters perfectly,
Must I clear the sub-conscious well?
It won't affect The Great Almighty,
Does He care on what I dwell?

Such thoughts I always pondered,
And could not understand,
How trivials of mine mattered,
In God Almighty's Plan.

One day I planned an event,
Up-coming and really grand,
I summoned all my servants,
And I did reprimand!

I made them clean every cob-web,
And polish the cutlery,
"You must do this really well,
You must do this perfectly"

I stopped as I remembered,
And now I understand,
Why little efforts matter,
However Vast His Plan.

What matters to God is our heart,
And its polish and purity,
The One imbued in the part,
One in Love, in Truth, and in Beauty

All Energy is a-churning,
From gross to pure sub-lime,
We aspire or are un-willing,
It will merge with God in time.

Dear God

Dear God, i wish i could know You more,
See Your Love around everywhere,
You are with me, i would know for sure,
I would know what to do and dare.
My thoughts to You i could then just mumble,
And ask You how and why,
This world, this bubble of boiling trouble,
Is a puzzle from earth to sky.
I wishquite oft I could telephone,
Or e-mail You my query, 
Impart to You what i fear alone,
Abandon all my worry.

buried alive

I remember just how I had "died",
The sorrow had been too much.
Away from life my soul had fled,
But the body lived on and I cried.

My senses did I still use on,
And made some efforts as such,
But they say I am a thing as the dead,
Apart from living I am torn.

As if, for me, the grave were best,
 My efforts have no-one touched,
More and more of my being has now been shed,
And the soul craves a deeper rest.




the poverty-stricken clan ( in a public hospital )

They line up in a queue,
The godly doctor passes by,
Has time for, "Just a few",
Each awed, longing eye,
Reflecting years of misery,
And grief yet to be.
Their ghastly diseases mocking,
The humility of man,
Striking the vulnerability,
Of the poverty- stricken clan.
Callously being told diagnoses,
Of disability and failing vision!
Hearing , "Too Late!"........................
With such humility and submission!!

Whatever Will Be ( Written several years ago )

Will I be as forlorn as that
 old man sitting there,
Will every wrinkle hide a sorrow I've had to bear,
Will every breath come as a painful sigh,
Will I have that same look of longing in my eye?
Will I have memories sweet,
Will every moment I love to meet,
Will there be love every day,
Will life turn out just as I prayed?
Whatever will be, I must beware,
For of grief I must have my share
However much one adjusts and adapts,
Grief still pierces depths of the heart.

An Empty Bottle ( written many years ago for an old mai )

An empty bottle,
Like an old woman,
Like a broken possession,
Waiting to be cast aside,
Weeping over a happy life.
Broken, shattered, wanted no more,
In small brittle pieces, it lies on the floor,
To watch itself passed by,
Till wretchedly its soul does cry,
And then in agony, and bitter spite,
It pierces, pricks and bites!!

by the sea. sit by the sea ,
And weep , and weep , and weep .
Just to lie as a sobbing heap ,
Until every tear-drop dries ,
Until there is no grief in my eyes .
To feel the breeze caress and sympathize ,
To see the waves in their earnestness rise ,
Console me , hear my cries ,
Until the ache in my heart dies.

....and they shall never heed

The time is come, and doom is here,
But only for the poor and meek;
Their world was small,
Soon lost and gone,
Those left have drowned in grief.

Doom's not yet come,
For thick-hyded ones,
Of an impugning pillory who reek
The world's their all,
They'll indulge for long,
And they shall never heed.

The Princess and the pea

All through the night, the weary night,
The princess could not sleep,
The mattresses were soft alright,
Which the kind inn-lady heaped.

It was the morning maid who found out why,
The princess could not sleep,
Beneath mattresses heaped up high,
There was a tiny pea !

Love was there,
At the radiant fair,
And the kith and kin were beaming.

Songs were sung,
And dances done,
There was care and celebrating.

As the music hummed,
All spite was shunned,
And the good folk laughed together.

But suddenly joy left her face,
Beside her, walking with her pace,
Was an odious, oggling, lecher.

"He's just a dog", they said, "Just let him stare",
"His sly offending words, you must forbear"
"Enjoy! Be alive, now or never"

She locked all doors,
She stayed in-doors,
None understood her ever.

Eternal Peace

Souls , littered on the earth's surface ,
Are parts of God , His Loving Grace ,
Each one with restless heart ,
Searches for his other part ,
His search , alas is all in vain ,
Alone he dwells in sorrow and pain ,
And then does life end at last ,
Away his fleshy debris is cast ,
His Soul enters God's Embrace ,
And merges with His Lord , His Grace ,
And so , there is Eternal Peace ,
And Everlasting Love and Ease .

Clouded Souls.

Memories of pain and shame,
Linger around a trembling heart,
Gripped with fear.

When tears have flowed like the crazy rain,
Still left within the clouded soul,
Is a dewdrop tear.

A sob merges with the dark in vain,
Like a sigh stretching through eternity,
Its presence clear.

And so this clinging, nagging pain,
Is a part of me I cannot see,
Or even hear.

godly attributes//names of Allah

My rosary beads move on,
To cleanse my heart of sin,
My hand seems of my murshid,
It is He who is here-in,
When a heart is purely prayer,
Himself.....He dwells there-in !
His face of me !
My face is...... as of him.
All is well, I need not worry,
Because Allah is within.
May murshid live for long,
And His gentle ways with him.