Poetry from the Heart

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Shofi Ahmed May When you stepped in my door, I realised I was Paradise in my heart and soul. You were so surefooted because you came up from the high. So long I longed for it. O Fathima, only to kiss your feet! I did it my way! Lovely bouncing on my polished pitch, the rivers forget to flow back to the seas. But no one knew where my toe melts!


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Until you did and took me for a tread closer to your spring, my sweet dream: O Fathima, only to kiss your feet! Your so pleased man wished to rain down with love, but humble you hid your feet! You blinded the moon, snowed it away under seven seas. No wonder it's your winning footing. O Fathima, only on your feet! Shofi Ahmed Oct One Earth One Woman. A fine mole down the blue mountain sky cannot be weighed out! It's the cosmos's gold dust the earthy depth triumphs. Oh earth, our close clay-star is far ahead of the day at noon. Ahead of the moon ahead of the Neptune!

With a million dash of curiosity every new sunrise paints upon her black box with the roaring fire. It has the plethora a room for everyone and time for timeless times.


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Guess, with her longhand what an inside scoop did it pick out? You too can be in the know It's the feminine beauty all in all. You may have by now seen women million and one. The earth is eyeing on only one! Her closest admirer is the star of the very luminary bunch with open eyes in the hearts. Her dead man is waking up sniffing the daylight by her. Yet to make the discovery both are still wondering outside! Taj Mahal. The epitome on the show is more than a dream turned true. A timeless beauty stitched on the stone.

The first sight hooks the eyeballs No star is a far cry from here it looks so close.

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A narrative feels so familiar is never old seen tons of times yet is a new Taj Mahal. People of new ages flock here with the admiring birds on this air of everlasting romance never gone with the wind are mesmerised with love! Fai Schreckengast Jul I can't. I love you. That is the only way i can dis scribe this, i love it when you kiss me, your lips are soft, and gentle, no ones kissed my like this before. You are Virgo , and i a Gemini. BOOM you broke my heart. I can't believe i let you in. Shofi Ahmed Mar The material body was yet in the making The first and foremost luminary feminine ebb and flow heartily pans out flawless flow to the finest angle.

Across the nadir to the zenith Fathima eyes on upon it like it shapes and forms are waxing lyrical: The pure masterpiece without a mirror! Arts on the go Fathima moves on.

Praise be to the Lord she being made to measure inborn mathematical the pi is her! For the perfect circle the circumference is masculine The pi tends to circle the blank space within is feminine She can budge equally in the shadow in patternless pi decimals and in the open, in integer into a whole full number! Time and again she steps up but finds no floor Her measured step by default lays on degree circle Scans all things at the first go still finds no bottom! The first luminary masculine peace be upon him first looks in the open she takes the veiled angle.

Through the evermore pi decimal micro-hole She looks on and witnesses the first water drop surfaces up without a base without a roof on top! Fathima looks at it and veils withdraws her reflection. It tried so did the full set of the galaxy only to disperse into a profound constellation never finds a bottom. Because amidst this water circle floats the first soil. Allah called it His house that He first created from it.

In the pre-designed world after the first masculine the first feminine Fathima thus did the first pilgrimage. She walked the walk did so in the patternless pi veil. Nature is never uneven on the hidden hand of the pi.


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  7. Every little fraction, the small decimal does it count connects to the dot without showing up a pattern Long live, long live the digital charisma is on the rise! Retracing time and again the sun rises in the median lane, yet the black box scores it's only a dark chart at the end of the day! The earth strived too to the death bite to print her footprint! Most of the mass visiting Medina look too see the grave of the holy lady Fathima. It has been a tradition since her death some fourteen hundred years ago.

    There are two graves where she is buried but which one is her is still unknown. Reportedly she wanted her grave to remain unidentified. Wayward Jul What is it about you that haunts me? I let you go so I can set you free.

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    You meant everything to me and we were forever, But it isn't our time to be together. I was completely lost before I met you. You gave me reason to live and direction to follow. But now we're back at square one, And the loneliness has already begun. I promised you I'd never leave. You promised never to let go of me.

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    Yet here we are, far apart in distance and in thought. I wonder how we'd be if we hadn't fought. Blocking is a blessing, and you used it well. I regret my decision, now I'm in hell. A life without you, is no life at all. I just wish you'd pick up my call. With several attempts I lost faith. I think it's goodbye, this is our fate. I'll always wonder if I made a mistake, If I could've avoided all our heartache.

    I didn't really know how else to let go of my emotions. Its really bad, I agree, but I needed some sort of an outlet for the hurt I was feeling. Much love. I'm so sorry for whatever you're going through. Stay safe loves! Shofi Ahmed Dec Fathima: The Deathless Original Feminine. Every star across the seven skies wishes to kiss it is a gold dust. Not to mention the Moon in the centre waning and waxing in the open and in secret keeps unleashing longing to rub this non-sublunary piece on its forehead. She knows only then the rough seas beneath her will calm down in the soft raining moonlight rubbing off such a lucky blossomed forehead.

    Oh, if only scarcely they could ever see it the galaxies since their inceptions longing for it. Then was no Adam nor Eve or Jibreel! Paradise finds its core with its resonant lore in the shadow of the original feminine Fathima the immortal hotspot the original matter explored. Paradise lived and breathe beneath her but she touched down at the heart of the earth without stepping or touching on paradise only to give away her stake to others! When people visit Islamic holy city Medina they look for the grave of the holy lady Fathima.

    It has been the tradition since her death some fourteen hundred years ago. There are two graves where she is buried but which one is her is still unknown It's been said that she preferred her grave to remain unidentified. Social Media. Almost asleep when my phone ticked; 'A notification,' it says. Your name was there, you liked my photo.

    And my stomach drowned in butterflies— Scratch that—moths, surely they're moths. Stronger, buzzier, like your power To occupy and stay in my brain With that single heart emoji beside your name. Thinking that the double tap Is as if you love me just the same. Shoutout to those whose crushes follow them on instagram.

    Mine doesn't. Was It Love? Or Was It An Arrow? Was it love? My heart, you took, left me in sorrow Your heart, may I borrow? Till death, I will keep, not returned by tomorrow My fortune is narrow That what left my heart hollow And my face sallow Your secret, I revealed, left me feeling shallow Running in agony in the furrow Towards the nearest tree, willow With no one fellow Sitting on the branch lonely with my shadow What a blue life!

    Thought it would be yellow! Memories of you are my softest pillow Such emotions, I shall not allow Your fingerprints, your footprints, your trail I will follow With all of my might, we become the lovers of the morrow The pill of hope, I will swallow --Hisham Alshaikh. Evelyn Genao May The way your lips touched mine. Without meaning. Without feelings. I missed them. Your kisses. Your attention. My heart.

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    I saw it. The way your eyes drifted to others. Never straying to mine. Never filled with the same spark. Always dull. It hurts. You would say it. Those three words. Not to me. Never to me. To the others.

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    They always got your love. I got your hate. Your anger. Never to be near you. Never to hold hands. Not in public. We did not know each other.

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    They would get the wrong idea. You were embarrassed. To be seen.

    Kirstie Blair

    She writes about everything from taking compassionate care of yourself at any weight, shape, and size, to coping healthfully with difficult emotions. Her goal is to give readers practical, empowering tips to better their lives, and to remind you that whatever you're struggling with, you're never, ever alone. Or via RSS Feed. Find help or get online counseling now. Photo by Ryan Wilson.

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