Wednesday, June 1, 2016




Paper and ribbon memory flush

The foggy eyes,

The wavering pulse,

The pain beneath the backbone.

Breaking, pushing


Intense combat with the enemies

Darkness seen the darkness.

Blood stained dust

Mother inhales,

Smell the dead flowers

The tears slide down the eyes

Another child slaughtered

And hidden under the bruised palm

Every little finger

Every tiny moment gone.

Someone cries

Let’s get out of here

The sky swathing in red clouds

Turning off.

A need to escape

From everything around

God even don’t know about

The second hell.


In my village, the spring has arrived

Time to grow, heal inside,

Our voices become soften.

The branches light up beauty.

Sparks begin to fly in silence,

Landscape sings in the serene life.

Humming in the morning, the tiny

Bird tweets and emptying the sadness,

The sky hurls pellets of white clouds.

Of the spiral trees knitting the warmness,

Lie down, listen to the wind

Sunlight falling in stripes in slow motion.

Fading slowly the jarring note of the

Misery and mess, riding on the new waves

Waiting to reach the needy soul.


The train arrived late
It's still atmospheric
The city I belong.

On the road side cafe people enjoy
The sun hitting the canal water
Lights in the shape of silver bands
play nicely on the glass window.

Going on the bicycles
The girls converse in whispers,
Stressing about equal pay.

Clouds sail, sometimes halt
To strike in exchange for rain
for your destined travel,
something of their own making.

Smokes rising up in the sky
They have a darker side
The trees counting moments-
Ugly inferno.

A bird is tossed up unknowingly
After bath in frigid water
Earthly reminder,
Harsh realities are not far away.


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