Roadblocks.

My story is stuck

on the point where

I pick up myself and leave.

My words are plucked

at the time

when I try to read.

My joy, my life,

and my sorrow

Every feeling

that I borrow

is more and more

incomplete.

My poems prose

is lost in your brows.

Love is a silent murmur

too faint to hear

too loud to deny.

Don’t ask me why ?

It’s the way things are.

But I got no luck

to get me through

and I wonder,

What comes next ?

Or I shall bring on

the words

poetry

prose

to a close

A lake of words

might be just

the most lovely song.

Who knows?

I will for now

carry on.

Between the Lines

TITLE: BETWEEN THE LINES !

 

 

There is a story here,

amidst the ordinary.

Read it if,

you can smell,

the blooming of the flowers.

Almost hear,

the rising of a power,

the crowning of a King.

Before the storm,

there is always a silence.

Before the actual,

comes always the pretence.

Read between the lines,

you will find my story ,

go along the vines,

maybe you will meet your glory.

– sahar

 

The Weather Superstition

The Creek American natives believe that in the beginning of the world daily animals used to have magic powers to keep the Sun in the sky. Night animals on the other side tried everything to keep the everlasting darkness.
One day all animals set a meeting to solve the problem. After hours of arguing they found the solution. Seeing the stripped tail of raccoon one animal suggested why do not we split the day equally into time of light and time of darkness.
Here is my version of it in a poem. 

During a random twilight,
were gathered animals of sorts.
They were to their own delight,
here to solve a matter of powers.

All kinds- reptiles, mammals,birds and insects.
Some fleshy, some ugly, some bony.
All in all, it was a cacophony.
Some shrieking, braying, cherping.
Others barking, roaring ,
cawing according to their choices.
Some just nodding their heads,
unable to make the voices.

Not everyone had a say in it.
It was a matter of precision.
With due discussion over the matter,
the animals had to make the decision.
The trouble was pretty much tight.
It was about causing day and night.
Diurnals held the sun, wanted the light.
The nocturnals in turn brought the night.

After hours of arguing and noise.
A little frog spoke with some poise
‘As I see the striped tail of the raccoon,
I suggest we divide the time between the sun and the moon.
Half a day can be night
And the other half could be light.’

So that’s how went the saying.
how the day and night came into being.