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More from ~akwala

Happiness Attention abates as soon as
the distraction fades

Colors don't dance on
the macular focal points
once illumination strikes

Inevitable dreams find
time's lost interstices
rummaging through the recesses
of accumulated skins

Comforts stand witness
to the reclines of last resort
on a separate plane of touch
innocent of the pain

The road's end is everywhere
the distance knows
its festering stories

Home is the unknown
that outlasts all wisdom
Reaching Arms to hands to fingertipsKeep time at a distanceEyes empty their gaze of heartHope envelopes all else

Nights don't fall so easilyAfter dust entangled daysBreezes die in echoes and breathsLight flees with the twilight

Wishes stand in rain unwashedLetting their stains bleedFleeting thoughts escape their wordsUnwritten books tell all
Virtual Eclipse He awoke to a dream. The day stretched before him, pristine, and pregnant with unrealized potential. This alliterative prospect made him smile, as he gazed at the gap in the window blind where a piece of a slat had broken off. Sunlight streaked through the gap, landing on the duvet enclosed down comforter where it would have lit his penis if it weren't for the Winter lingering into early Spring.

The coffee machine clicked on, and soon he heard it percolate. He felt fortunate to be living in a time when gadgets could anticipate the needs they needed to fill. After stretching quietly under the comforter, arms and feet slowly creeping out so as
Sustenance His eyes lied. Their gaze from the rust-stained, cracked mirror cast a shadow on the face they inhabited. It was a face that had long lost its identity to an unkempt beard. His blank stare into the mirror was drawn into the flickering, but warm, glow emanating from those eyes. This is how it would always start. Mesmerized by that trembling glow, he'd allow his empty stare to get pulled in and illuminated. Soon he'd be hooked on the glow, all his desperate defenses subverted by its warmth, which he'd end up sustaining with his being, or so he remembered. The memory bordered on the fantastic, and was fuzzy on how he ended up back on the outside

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May 24, 2009
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When Tomorrow Comes

by ~akwala

Take the train that left the station when tomorrow comes
Give in to the lost temptation when tomorrow comes

Hope and lust will grow a tree and shade forever
Mediocre aspiration when tomorrow comes

Books lined up to fend off love between breathing bookends
Left bereft of sublimation when tomorrow comes

All the prickly heat desire soothes to pamper touch
Won't subside and save sensation when tomorrow comes

Left alone with TV shows, time will make peace with space
Skip the ads of admonition when tomorrow comes

Groundhogs scared of shadows and robins obsessed with Spring
Will tell tales of pride in nation when tomorrow comes

In the heart of fortune lies the blind comfort of bliss
Drink from fountains of damnation when tomorrow comes

The mess, Aslam, at meaning's last horizon of faith
Could show proof of evolution when tomorrow comes
:iconakwala:
Another ghazal, adhering to a strict meter.

I had some fun with this one -- goes from personal/"deep" to silly to topical, tries to mix it all up, and isn't ashamed of a few clichés...
:iconcornerstoneascetic:
!CornerstoneAscetic May 24, 2009
I like this, the sounds and rhythm are very nice when read aloud. I don't know much about the form though, so I can't say much about technique.
Reply
:iconakwala:
~akwala May 24, 2009
Thanks. I was going for that -- Urdu ghazals, with which I'm most familiar, tend to be recited or sung.

--
--aslam
Reply
:iconcornerstoneascetic:
!CornerstoneAscetic May 24, 2009
the rhyme scheme is pretty cool, and the variations in each couplet.
Reply
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I Know My heart is a mess, this much I know
No words to be found as such, I know

There is but shame to survive the pain
A pinch of a nerve, a touch I know

Don't kill the man for beauty's sake, love
Your eyes will long for that much, I know

Give life its death and live tonight
Dreams are no match for how much I know

Ill-gotten are all your woes, that's true
When fate arrives that's your crutch, I know

A name, not a feeble sigh, Aslam,
Is what's yours but not to touch, I knowI Know by ~akwala
Grieving Time should be more in tune
Casbahs are only rocked so often;
The dirge should melt into the rhythm
As words leave their melodies behind

Dances of thought in silence, crying
To the beating of a dull heart...
That's what lasts into the mourning
Where all awaits tomorrow's demise

Never in sight or touch or smell
But the rain falls just as well.
It's not a young night that goes by
Sultry streets of monsoons unseen

There is no love in the wind, just
A light breeze of midnight's charm --
That's how morning, lone, awakens to
Day's jagged, kaleidoscopic glares

Don't give that old lust a name or face
It's not as empty as its sin.
But averse to beGrieving by ~akwala
When Tomorrow Comes Take the train that left the station when tomorrow comes
Give in to the lost temptation when tomorrow comes

Hope and lust will grow a tree and shade forever
Mediocre aspiration when tomorrow comes

Books lined up to fend off love between breathing bookends
Left bereft of sublimation when tomorrow comes

All the prickly heat desire soothes to pamper touch
Won't subside and save sensation when tomorrow comes

Left alone with TV shows, time will make peace with space
Skip the ads of admonition when tomorrow comes

Groundhogs scared of shadows and robins obsessed with Spring
Will tell tales of pride in nation when tomorrow comes

In the heWhen Tomorrow Comes by ~akwala
And Lie Quiet truths rise with evening's fall from grace and lie
Morning beckons dreams to fly in life's face and lie

No more, no less this everlasting absent time
What demise will life's work adorn, efface and lie?

Win for me love's lavender bounty in daylight
My prize, I pray, this time I won't deface and lie

Soon it will begin, the promised epoch of naught
Today's still moment must know this disgrace and lie

Worlds turn, Aslam, dancing with all of your past loves
Would that you could eke out one true embrace and lieAnd Lie by ~akwala
Happiness Attention abates as soon as
the distraction fades

Colors don't dance on
the macular focal points
once illumination strikes

Inevitable dreams find
time's lost interstices
rummaging through the recesses
of accumulated skins

Comforts stand witness
to the reclines of last resort
on a separate plane of touch
innocent of the pain

The road's end is everywhere
the distance knows
its festering stories

Home is the unknown
that outlasts all wisdomHappiness by ~akwala
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