Sukasah Syahdan

I am reminiscing you; and the little boy who often stole some change from the left pocket of your pants that would hang behind the door in the front room; his pride in bringing

after that fleeting summer In your overjoyed heart, Haunt years to endure A love with all doors shut Forget a hearty dinner Make do instead, with these Fingerlike cucumbers Who taught you to be

How much more blood Must the people suffer Before they come to a halt With this horror of power? How many more lives Do we have to proffer ’till cloyed they are forever With

I used to believe that comprehension began right there; That what eyes failed to make sense of, was insensibility. Every time a picture offers a thousand words, They claim the first to know; and

standing in front of a mirror You recall it said: To hinge upon time is self-delusion Tomorrows and days after, Longevity or ephemeron Are mere matters of illusion At twilight or dawn Being singularly

I have longed to hit the quill And hear the faithful tick-tock Of a perishing machine I have longed to bear witness Of encounters of words and meanings Long sunk in man’s memory I

Please forgive us should You find this insolent Or see no tears we shed after the latest trick of Yours But writhing inside, we have been guessing the motive Eeach time one disaster rallies

Shalt Cupid be blamed thou doth dominate Dwelling in days and nights with dignity? With this self as my only best comrade, I treasure thy fancy as whate’er means beauty. Mine own mind, too,

Majestic rocks from millions of years ancient Bystanders of earthly silent evolution Are in themselves untold stories Of an ever-lasting beauty that is this beach That the hands of time would only caress And

I have let her, the kid unstopper me Thinking she would drink me up and part of her I’d be; I am now an empty bottle all right The rest of me your crippled

Your oft-repeated bocsánat Has grown me sick; it keeps Reminding me of a religious teaching. God the ever pardoning Can always forgive I can’t. So just wipe out my name from your record For

All the world’s a stage shrinking & life remains a same rendition Without rehearsal whose script is written by no-one except Dimmest reveries which scatter in everyone’s mind Some favor major roles some don’t

First, we worshipped the inanimate. Next, we learned to worship the gods Later, we discovered the Deity. Then, dazzled by our own Reason We returned to the inanimate And ended up worshipping anything, From

Far away and long ago, a young lady who had lost her way found herself wandering in a wood and met a young carpenter working on a cupboard by a simple cabin that he’d

Il buon tempo verrà! A solitary chestnut, Bold in the cold, Hibernating under A gigantic white sheet Is perseverance Keeping busy To welcome The coming Of Spring

once upon a time I Saw a first flower undress In slow motion naked colour I have been awaiting One to bloom And emit fragrance Ever since

a penny for your thoughts my dear how are you Got things to tell got to stand naked before you Disintegration now depicts my inner me were you Here you might see no difference

Let me for somewhere I should stroll Bid thee farewell. You, eternal wonder That enthralls my soul, will always tolls Like a muezzin’s serene call yonder. Who can really reckon the lines on the

bless ’em beggars, buskers, street vendors Breastfeeding mothers, fathers weather- Beaten, misplaced babies, outofschoolboys&girls Enduring with furious fidelity Everyday musk of japanese/german carfumery Bless ’em by-products of national antigress Fretful souls on the brims

tell me one good thing You did to yourself today And tell me another That you did to others Let us check our lives With these questions, daugther For as many tomorrows We borrow

a) An old and rusty slide Made derelict by one’s Misplaced innocence B) I’ll recognize him Once I see his face again So it says

a Memo from the Past This is to compliment those Who have made us petrified And conjured up evidence of our sufferings Into what they call a tourist’s attraction

if you are young and bright At one and twenty, go to a: If you are old and gray At one and sixty, see b: A) Scorn these lines, Forget the book Put it

I have refused to refuse to publish This book of poetry Today they’ve found Over a hundred poems In this volume Tomorrow, yet more One day, even skeptics incurrable Willl be thrilled by the

(With apologies to AR) Whenever he drives downtown Envy is what we have for him A princely look from sole to crown Dark glasses, a glossy limousine Always immaculately dressed up He resembles human

Before the midnoon sermon was a starter He had sat quietly on the corner, His mien dripping with wudhu water His all seeing eyes observe in glister Standing on the altar was the preacher

People are still expecting this annus horribilis To close its black box of monstrosities; If I asked you about resolutions You’d probably give me that look And say “May this year fare us well.”

To: I At the risk of being customary I wish to make a confession Not that it may be true They do not love that do not show it But because it’s true That

Of love, Logic, And libido I cryingly Thank you, God, Ever, For making me A doubter With millions of Insteads And exceptions Humanunkind Flouts like Mockingbirds They only know From ancestry You let me

An ideal father: Doesn’t smoke Doesn’t scold Doesn’t fuss Doesn’t test Doesn’t punish Doesn’t upset Doesn’t bore Doesn’t forbid Doesn’t spoil Doesn’t mind Doesn’t compare Doesn’t label Doesn’t doubt Doesn’t neglect Doesn’t exist.

After that failed intercourse she asked if something had been wrong. She coiled in muteness and ventured an old book from the shelf in my mind. I dived into her seabed where corals petrified