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Title: A Dove amongst the blossoms. Greetings there oh dear dove. How do you do? I'm fine thanks, how about you? Dwelling. Like me. Amongst what may I ask? Amongst the lifeless, where I will be laid to rest. Amongst my sweet blossoms, young and old. Amongst Gods centres, where His stories are told. A beautiful mind I must confess. Of which all have been given. But yours is special. How do you see? How can I not? Your gift I'll hold dear to me. My master says a sweet tongue opens hearts and earns many friends. Yet just one enemy is where trouble begins. Repeat not that gaze, an arrow piercing my defensive wall. Yes and I reached your soul. Shed to me your dreams. They are plenty, delicate and free. Do they have room for one more? For sure! A special place I have always saved. For who? One like you. Come with me. And leave my blossoms? My heart has intentions for which the tongue cannot promise. Promises unfulfilled, words aimless spoken through blindness. Thus I make them not, and express the worst. Will you not come to where I dwell? At present it cannot be. How so when our thoughts complement. I have no choice I must set you free for I will leave you now to see if you return to me. Goodbyes are swift, not looking back is agony. In your hands you hold your destiny. Your smile put me to rest. And you forgot what once you made me realize, to hide the torture of what I despise? Yes I remember. Then oh dear dove, I'll sit here head down and forbear this test. Dedication: A Light of a Home. 
Title: The blue round track All aboard the blue round track Its path of two, the cage and back Not a smile in sight Nor a grin Expressions explicate the soul within Doors close, the hushes begin Round and round she goes Where will she stop, nobody knows Liquor and tunes, at the week's end A sojourn, attempts to forget But the cycle will just begin again Their comfort, thoughts of gold Home and wagon Holiday for the old Climb that ladder King of the mountain Such is what their hearts desire Whisked through the game An illusive aim Zombies and pawns Emotions of blues Too late to return The existence is gone Dedication: Civil rebels of the system.
Title: My Brother A black garment she wears, a shield for the pearl of Iraq, a pure submission "My Brother, My Brother!!!" she yells on the centre of a scorching street Anxiety in her strides, back and forth, reminiscent of Hajar's affection "My Brother, They've taken him!!!" wails she The khawarij look on, heads lowered, muted "My Brother, Will you not help him???" Right and left she glimpses, a pure lonely soul, bewildered "My Brother, How can you ignore him, is it possible???" Wicked phantoms glide between the observers "My Brother, Ya Zainab, My Brother!!!" Daughter of Zahra's tears fall from the heavens "My Broth.." she is interrupted, viciously grabbed "We will take you to your brother, your end shall be like his" "My Brother, By Allah I shall never leave him!!!" Thrown to the floor, gates to the sinister dungeon slammed, His scholarly radiant hand reaches down "My Brother, my dear brother, they've abandoned you" "Allah's mercy, He has not abandoned us my sweet rose" "My Brother, I am pleased to be in your presence" A night of worship complete, the sun climbs, its rays feeble against a gloomed day "My Brother, where are they taking us" "To meet our forefather, the Prince of Heaven" "My Brother, I am honoured" Tied and bound, paraded as a treasure before the khawarij...beard set blazing, the arrows of Karbala pierce the angel's eye "MY BROTHER, MY BROTHER, MY BR.." Dedication: Scholars murdered by Saddam | ||
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