Time

Here we are residing
'neath the shadows of his chin
displaying our wholesome greed
He's dumb who listens not
when we cast our griefs
His feet - sacred boots
that trample on our hopes

Panga in his one hand
in the other panacea installed
A day comes we are helpless
watching our weathered deeds
In the next he enlivens our murdered trust
and we enjoy the remnants
of our glory fast - These our lives -
Stuff in Sisy's purse, passing via tanghles of time

We look unto him our eyes full of pride
We weep, we laugh - with him - in him
Our checkered lives waiting - like sacrificial lambs
until he washes us away with his tidal waves
and dumps us in dreaded doom

Copyright © 2004 Nura Ahmad

Patience

The power
To endure trouble
Suffering
And inconveniences
The power
To await results
How lengthy
The time shall be
With haste in
a bygone list

Copyright © 2006 Nura Ahmad

It's Me She Loves

She cried ornamentals
I bedecked her in gold
They said: it's me she loves

I came back home my pocket full
She showed me her teeth
The request? - It's garment she wanted
I dressed her up head to toes
Yes, they said: it's me she loves
What should love be after all?

Oneday she smiled and winked her eyes
The language? - she wanted me in the blue
I gave me up satisfied she went
Again they said it's me she loves

Back home worried needing someone to care
She yelled, barked and quickly turned
Me then asked: is it me she loves?

Copyright © 2006 Nura Ahmad

Man - a Slave?

A woman's knock at the door of your heart
At once the door opens this marks the appearance
Of the string that ties you

With sweet words she says it's only you she loves
This assures you are handcuffed
Beyond the words there come the kisses
This tells that you are chained

In no time she then pushes you
To the circle of responsibilities
Matrimony they usually call it
You are now in a tragic cell

All in chain you still protect her
Wipe her tears and make her happy
Imprisoned you do what she wants

Having no time of your own
Freedom is beyond your taste

Man, Are you then a slave?

Copyright © 2006 Nura Ahmad

Death Has No Friend

Death, disgusting, distasteful, it looks in derision,
Unwanted, though celebrated, it has its own vision.
The invisible that begirt all expression.

Every soul's raiment which must be worn,
All the souls that come and those virtually gone,
None has ever felt or saw it worn.

Cares not about aged granny or little one in the womb,
Let there be men or women with hearts that throb,
Death always doth its job.

The butterflies with their alluring beauty,
Bees forming the sweetest honey,
Never seduce or bewitch death.

Being in spectre, you can accuse me of cowardice,
The brave-heart with their thews and sinews,
Who made valiant effort to conquer death?

Deathless indeed is the death's best friend,
I remain on the quivive but cannot comprehend,
I finally realized that death has no friend.

Copyright © 2006 Nura Ahmad