To my sweet unknown whose time will tell anon of you and me
This one darkened soul in the path of nowhere, looking for the light
And you are the pollen with such heavenward scent, floating on prayers
Of which I did espy but yet to form plans for the day we would meet
This one's for the future of the past I've left behind
Of dreamy lullabyes of love that I've thought much poisoned
And gold was the day but of late not much warmth
To fear the smile I may never get to see from your glowing face
This word's for the sigh in this road I've but travelled
Alone and all wretched but within it did endure
The sign of all summer in the midst of dead winters
Oh crave now I dream, of your soft white arms!
This hope's for the lost cause of a warrior enshrined in pain
For the swords that he wields are two bladed and thick blood
But maybe just a touch from the one who cares still
That I'll jump back and fight for one more goodnight...
And till that time comes all regards are for you
For one whom He said that she comes for my aide
A pagan emotion of agnostic desires, encased in beauty
With the scent of red passion to light my brief candle...
This love of my life, for now 'til forever!
THE SIGN OF SHAIRO
KL
2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Sighs of A Worker
So what if I'm just one more brick in the wall?
I'm no more of a person than any of you, or no less of it!
Well maybe its true we go by different colours and different ranks
But is it true that our lives are but a cycle in a well of oblivion?
Ah, so much for the tyranny of early mornings and evening smogs
When all I ever want is to carve a place of my own in this lifetime
But not so much as to toe the line from sunrise to sunset is what we all crave
For a measly fold of crisp colourful papers it seems that this pain is all about!
Oh, and to think that in these precious two days that some of us could be ourselves again
But for much more worries of the future we fear that time when it ends in a handshake!
Be they golden or pink slips we now humbly lay down and die amidst these bills to pay
Even more sorrowful our precious ones who asks about who to pay for their schools!
Alas, this poem arrives to not an answer but still much of sighs
To this bored weak soul blogging at his office on the eve of his payday
Maybe next week he could take a few days off or something
But then he realised that all his paid leaves are allbut used...
And so he goes back to work again as he caught sight of his wonderful saviour
To stop maybe for a bite or two later on, with friends he'd rather not be with
Then off he goes facing his dear worn-out monitor again, till five or six or maybe tonight...
Sad...indeed...sad indeed...
SAIF MINTAKA
KL
2010
I'm no more of a person than any of you, or no less of it!
Well maybe its true we go by different colours and different ranks
But is it true that our lives are but a cycle in a well of oblivion?
Ah, so much for the tyranny of early mornings and evening smogs
When all I ever want is to carve a place of my own in this lifetime
But not so much as to toe the line from sunrise to sunset is what we all crave
For a measly fold of crisp colourful papers it seems that this pain is all about!
Oh, and to think that in these precious two days that some of us could be ourselves again
But for much more worries of the future we fear that time when it ends in a handshake!
Be they golden or pink slips we now humbly lay down and die amidst these bills to pay
Even more sorrowful our precious ones who asks about who to pay for their schools!
Alas, this poem arrives to not an answer but still much of sighs
To this bored weak soul blogging at his office on the eve of his payday
Maybe next week he could take a few days off or something
But then he realised that all his paid leaves are allbut used...
And so he goes back to work again as he caught sight of his wonderful saviour
To stop maybe for a bite or two later on, with friends he'd rather not be with
Then off he goes facing his dear worn-out monitor again, till five or six or maybe tonight...
Sad...indeed...sad indeed...
SAIF MINTAKA
KL
2010
Friday, December 3, 2010
Stanzas For a Dreamer
Lay down your sorrows o the one who've seen the light
In all the dark places that God Himself may not look that way
For your gift is what they treasure so greatly but not on you
And they spit on your name for the fact that they have not
Take comfort in your kindness, for your kind is much too kind
Yet no penny to your name to worth their high placing, most high indeed!
That they'd see you not from their gilded eyes, for such is their world of late
But rather as a garbage, a refuse, a bane of society, or so their mind think...
Dry well your tears for this foot deserves not your face or pride
And your head is not a doormat for the world to mark their anger
Remember the Divine do know of their pride, their egos and lusts
And so soon their foul deeds on you will not be foreclosed!
Don't hate me for I have no songs to lull you to sleep
Nor comes I for you to cleanse your dark mournings
For only a Dreamer he knows of his sad sweet brethren
The golden few with wings they made him felt low
So let's not abandon, this gift that we have
For sooner or later they'd come for us true
When all hope is gone, they'd search for it more
Only to find, its nest is still laying, but not of their reach
For the nest of all hope is the mind who still dreams
Who'd never he'd dreamt but kept on so dreaming
And so now who; pray tell, are losers in truths?
The egos with pride or the pride-less who dreams?
Think about it...
SAIF MINTAKA
KL
2010
In all the dark places that God Himself may not look that way
For your gift is what they treasure so greatly but not on you
And they spit on your name for the fact that they have not
Take comfort in your kindness, for your kind is much too kind
Yet no penny to your name to worth their high placing, most high indeed!
That they'd see you not from their gilded eyes, for such is their world of late
But rather as a garbage, a refuse, a bane of society, or so their mind think...
Dry well your tears for this foot deserves not your face or pride
And your head is not a doormat for the world to mark their anger
Remember the Divine do know of their pride, their egos and lusts
And so soon their foul deeds on you will not be foreclosed!
Don't hate me for I have no songs to lull you to sleep
Nor comes I for you to cleanse your dark mournings
For only a Dreamer he knows of his sad sweet brethren
The golden few with wings they made him felt low
So let's not abandon, this gift that we have
For sooner or later they'd come for us true
When all hope is gone, they'd search for it more
Only to find, its nest is still laying, but not of their reach
For the nest of all hope is the mind who still dreams
Who'd never he'd dreamt but kept on so dreaming
And so now who; pray tell, are losers in truths?
The egos with pride or the pride-less who dreams?
Think about it...
SAIF MINTAKA
KL
2010
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