Tuesday, August 15, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Love's Ado


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Love’s Ado

Love, it is that vacant spot, the thing that winsome writers jot

Down hoping to perceive more clear, the thing which we all grow to fear

For much too easy it comes near, and far too often, disappears



Leaving fingers stretched in vain, bringing tears down like the rain



Love, it is our greatest pain, the thing that warps great men in shame

For neither fortune, nor their fame, can succor them from such a bane



Love, it is a dangerous game, with rules that few can ever name

And many faces, true and false, to blind all those it may accost



With rosy dreams of silk and lace, or cherished lips they long to trace

It offers poisoned, juicy fruit, which tastes like heaven’s stolen loot



Love, it is a tempestuous thing, for which our mouths may scream and sing

It is the reason we all feign, and accept each foolish, hurtful dream



Love, it is a precious find, which in truth we do not mind

For all its wasting up of time, it still erases every line



Dividing us in heart and mind, and leaving us within a bind



Love, it is our strangest friend, that leads us on straight till the end

  © 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad 

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: My Precious Thorn

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My Precious Thorn

Dear precious thorn, I love you so


And cannot stop, as even though you hurt me always to my heart, my soul cries out from every part





To feel your painful, sharpened lance, with each and every smelting glance





You send my way through clouded mist, and cause my thoughts to drift and shift





Beyond the bounds of rapturous list, which holds me fast within a fist, so tightly bound in lawlessness


I curse you so with bitterness





Most precious thorn, I cannot see, myself no longer minus thee





Nor can I fathom, life to be, something sweeter without thee


Deeply lodged within my mind, sinking further every time, poisoning me with hot thick wine


Dripping slowly down my spine





My precious thorn, you draw the worst, up out of me, with every burst





You cause me but to thirst and thirst, for you to be the very first





To be the last to shred apart, the tender flesh around my heart





To rip me open, see the part, of me yet trapped inside the dark





My precious thorn, you’ll never know, just how much I love you so





And cherish your sweet constant pain





For in my heart, I feel your reign



 © 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad 

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Bitter Circumlocution

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Bitter Circumlocution

Time is short and running out, on those of us who live in doubt

Of the purpose we are born, and the truth for which we’ve sworn



To always follow and receive, and not refuse, but to believe

With all our earnest, stone like hearts, which melt in pieces every part



As we go each day about, swimming constant in and out, of peaceful waters streaming fast, and burning hells we move on past



Touching not their fickle flames, and wearing not their filthy chains

Which seek to bind us to the ground, and drag us further, down, down, down…



Into the graves for which we’re bound, to fall into without a sound

Warning us off a quick demise, which hides within the bed of lies, they all make up with foolish dreams that fall apart right at the seams



Just as they pick each crooked path, with no great thought to who was last

To travel down the winding road, which leads straight to a dark abode

In which they cannot ever thrive, for none within are left alive

 © 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Monday, July 24, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: When Fools Rush In



When Fools Rush In

When fools rush in, pain comes out, unburied by tears, which red eyes spout



When fools jump forward, the ground moves near

And they’re trampled, underfoot, beneath their fear



Of being rejected, forgotten, despised

The fools so often believe the lies, told by careless, sweet faced doves

Hiding their claws and laughing at love



Which fools all share, with no great care, to receive in turn, an equal fare



Something more than stale thick air, which chokes their necks and brings despair



Raining down upon their face, as bleeding hearts move on in haste

To find another to replace, the missing love which they all waste



On each and every newfound face, for which their foolish hearts may race



Against the time before the fall, comes once again to turn them all, into another mangled doll, that waits for loving hands to hold



Again a heart left in the cold, like a lump of dull shined gold, hidden beneath heaps of coal, never to be adored by a soul



When fools rush in, they close their eyes, and pray to catch a heart which flies



Someday to them with open arms, and burns with flames, to which love swarms

 © 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Monday, July 17, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Coloration


Coloration

Colours, colours, all around; colors, colors, falling down

Colours, colours, dark and fair; colors, colors, everywhere



Shades of blue, deep and sad; shades of red, blushing mad

Shades of green, glowing bright; shades of black, cool midnight



Shades of yellow, feather light; shades of cloudy, speckled white

Shades of brown, earthy mounds; shades of colours, round and round



Colours, colours, all around; colors, colors, melting down

Colours, colours, dark and fair; colors, colors, everywhere



To the left and to the right, soft and loud, all in sight



Colours here and colors there; colours, colours, everywhere!

 
 © 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Monday, July 10, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Constant Abandonment



Constant Abandonment

You smile so easy as you tell me you’re leaving, and I want so much to believe when you say you’ll return



But you’re averting your eyes and I’m sensing the lies, as you kiss both my hands and I make no demands



What if I should say I wish you to stay—would you still run away and desert me this day?



Why waste the breath when I know you will go—why question for answers I don’t want to know?



It’s a difficult thing, watching your back—as you drift out of reach, your cold footprints I track



I’m searching for a shadow in the pitch black of night; I’m chasing a ghost, and being tricked by the light



Many times you pop up when I give up all hope, and I hang on to you from the edge like a rope



If you snap and I fall, I’m destined to break



If you loved me at all, you’d remain here for my sake


 © 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Monday, July 3, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Short Sentiments



Short Sentiments

Discovery—your guard is down; you’re standing in the line of fire and I just might have a shot

My heart is loaded, my hands are shaking; I could find the trigger if my head would stop racing



Analysis—you’re not yourself; you seem confused and out of sorts, like someone else is wearing your skin which doesn’t quite fit their frame



Impression—your weakness is becoming; I am in awe of your vulnerability

It has brought you well within reach of my grimy, outstretched hands



Diaphanous—my intentions are not obscured; I’ll work hard and catch you fast

There’s no telling how much longer you’ll be off your pedestal



Impulsion—you’re closing down; I must steal into your mind and take hostage of your thoughts



For if I let you shut back up, I may never make it in

 © 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Monday, June 26, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Always Never, Never Always



Always never, Never always

I’ve always been giving it time, as though I have an endless supply of hours, of minutes, of seconds to throw away



I’ve always been holding it in, as though letting it out could somehow do more damage to my long since pulverized heap of a heart



I’ve always been waiting it out, as though patience ever really stops the rain, or pressure does more than simply numb the pain



I’ve always been slow to act, as though I need a definite cue or a neon sign to point me front and center



I’ve never been real good at giving it my all; I tend to hold half of everything worth showing back



I’ve never been real quick to take chances, even ones offered on a platter, because they scare me—and they do bite



I’ve never been so stuck on a concept that I can’t convince myself of its impossibility



I’ve never been this far out on a limb without seeing the ground rush up



And I’ve never, never been able to fall so hard for someone who always manages to catch me before I break


 © 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Monday, June 19, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Utterly Detached



Utterly Detached

I have no real attachment to you; I just like your eyes

They’re so blind, and yet so clear—they’re lovely to look at



I see myself perfected in your gaze, untouchable as a queen, brilliant as the stars



But I have no real attachment to you; I just like your eyes



I have no true affection for you; I just love your ears

They’re so selective, yet so attuned, to every whispered, idle word



I speak and you listen; you never forget the things I say

I lie and you still listen—you never ignore the things I say



But for you I have no true affection; I just love your ears



I have no real opinion of you, be it good or bad; I just know you’re there, or you’re here, whenever I want you to be



I have no true need of you; I just keep you around



I like your eyes—I love your ears

But I remain unattached to you
 © 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Monday, June 12, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Those Like You



Those Like You

There are some of us, like you, who would ruin something beautiful—just to see if it will last

Just to see if it will fade when you throw it to the ground



There are some of us, like you, who would paint a lily black, just to see if it will shine

Who would tear a rose to shreds, just to see if it will grow



There are some of us, like you, who would study to comprehend what makes a picture feel alive

What makes a song to resonate within the heart, within the mind



There are some of us, like you, who would logically explain the reasons for humane emotions

Who would dissect a dreamer’s words for a rational, sound foundation



And there are some of us, like me, who would pity those like you

Who would take the beautiful—and change it to something plain

 © 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Monday, June 5, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Graduating from Yesterday



Graduating from Yesterday

We’re sliding into the coat of tomorrow’s skin, and stifling the litany of yesterday’s pains

We’re trading in our tattered shoes for a classier, more comfortable pair



And we are opening the door which will lead us into an endless world of opportunities



What may come, or what may leave us empty, jaded, all washed-up

We’ll think not of, we’ll push aside, and cling but to our hopes and dreams



Those old regrets, that bitter remorse, well swallow with a shot of faith

We’ll seize the future with calloused hands, and we’ll never fall back to yesterday

© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Monday, May 29, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Wasting Us



Wasting Us

Thinking of you is a waste of time, but I’ve never been frugal, so who cares?

Certainly not me, and certainly not you

Definitely not you—and who cares about them?



Thinking of you is always a waste of time, especially when the phone is right there, and my mouth is right here

Usable…abusable…misusable



But I’m tired, and I can’t feel my legs anymore

My arms won’t move, and my eyes remain fixed on the ceiling



Did you know it’s full of cracks? Just like my head



Just like my—or was that your—heart

I think it was ours; I think they were ours

My heart, your heart, our hearts



It’s all the same…right? Wrong—you said it was wrong

I remember, you told me it was wrong—all wrong



But what was it?



Was it you, was it me? No…it was us



It was always us



Thinking of you is a waste of time, but I’ve got too much of it, so who cares?

Not me, and not you

Certainly not you—definitely not you



And them…I don’t even want to think about them

They’re worse than a waste of time; they’re all a waste of life

A waste of breath—a waste of me



Or was that you?



I think it was us…it was always us

Wasting each other, wasting our time



I still can’t feel my legs, but I can reach the phone

I can reach you



I’m tired of just thinking; I’m tired of being wasted

I want to take my time now and spend it with you, on you and me



Forget about them, it’s all about us



It’s all about us; we’re wasting us

© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Monday, May 22, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Let it be Known



Let it be known

Let it be known you’ve done your part; let it be known you’ve raised me well

When the verdict is passed, and judgments are made

Let it be known I’ve done you proud



If ever they ask what made me so, what made me strong, what helped me grow

Let it be known I came from you; let it be known you loved me true



When I stand in the light, when I shine with a smile

Let it be known I was well worth the while



Let it be known you gave me the best, and that in return I gave you no less



As they heap to me praise, as they give grand applause

Let it be known I bow thanks to you



Let it be known that all my success, that all my prowess was a gift from your hand



And last, when the curtain falls on your stage, let it be known you’ve marked every page

In the book of my life I’ll extend everlong; let it be known in me you’ll live on

© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: All They Ignore



All They Ignore

She’ll climb out of bed just like before, and she’ll air out a smile to wear on her face

Never minding the fact it stretches too tight, or the edges are frayed and revealing her scars



As long as she keeps it from falling apart, they never will see—they never will look



Its part of the game of what we ignore, and they’ll play just like always, just like before



She’ll walk down the street with eyes straight ahead, flinching at shadows, grinding her teeth



She’ll blush at their touches, and laugh at their jokes

But true joy will never again fill her eyes

And then in the night when torment begins, she’ll scrub her skin raw and bleed out her sins

One for each penny, one for each dime; one for each dollar they gave her each time



A life for a living—the trade off she made

Her soul for a meal—the price she’s long paid



In playing the game of all we ignore, she smiles just like always, just like before



She climbs out of bed; she walks down the street

She cries in the night, and never can sleep



She hurts and she laughs; they never do see

She falls and she breaks; they never do look

© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Never Enough



Never Enough

Never was I enough for you, always you wanted something more



More than a servant, more than a fan, more than a shoulder, more than a hand



Something bigger and brighter you saw, always before you looked back at me



You worshipped your gods and lived in your dreams

You cast me aside for much better things



Never, not once, you told me to stay; but always I followed when you slipped away



Always I waited, near you, behind, hoping to someday enter your mind



You took what I gave, and made me your slave



You shattered my heart, and kept every part



Never could I be enough for you, always you wanted more than myself



More than your servant, more than your fan, more than my life in the palm of your hand


© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad