Oais' MS

Play your heart

Tag: Poetry

  • Stanley’s perspective of poetry.

    ‘A poem trembles on the verge of lapsing into music, of breaking into dance; but its virtue lies in resisting the temptation – in remaining language’ ~ Stanley Kunitz

    Image Credit: By Claude Michel “Clodion” (1738-1814) (National Gallery of Art, Washington, D. C.) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

  • The Lone Ranger

    The Lone Ranger

    alone
    Do you see struggling there in the distance?
    Do you see a fall?
    Do you see a falter, stop, and taking breaths down to a crawl?
    Do you see a head going down, kneeling?
    And then,
    do you see it go up again, looking into the skies?
    Do you see befuddlement, and a glimpse of submission?
    But Wait!
    Do you see determination? Do you see a goal?
    Do you see a structure forming, and strengthening of a soul?
    And then,
    Do you see many things more? Things that try to weaken further?
    Many obstacles that seem mightier and capable of murder?
    And yet, there is still resilience to take it abreast!
    Strength seems weakening, but the soul is still set to cope with the test!
    This battle against destiny seems so bizarre.
    Who knows; if one get’s through, will it be worthy of a memoir?
    150107 Oais Halim
    Image Credit: Hoeg@DeviantArt.com
  • Torment

    Torment

    Black_Walls__Empty_Room_by_LaVeuveNoire
    Torment, there’s no escaping it.

    No way out, just darkness, thick.

    Try groping my way,
    but there’s nothing to hold on to.
    Nothing to suggest a path,

    Nothing that can help me do.

    Lost, screaming for help.
    Crying for hope, trying to cope,

    but all’s in vain, just can’t find myself.

    Hear mumbles here and there.
    They sound comforting, they sound promising,
    Yet they are but rescue ropes that are worn and threadbare.

    They break, not just themselves, but the hope that came from rising.

    Is there an escape from this labyrinth?
    This universe of nothingness, this quicksand of time and possibilities.
    Or am I doomed to rot here, in this dark place? A tomb of everlasting torment.
    Oais Halim 14121701
    Image Credit: LaVeuveNoire @ Deviant Art
  • My Teachers

    My Teachers

    There was a time, when I considered them, a person to fear,
    a time when I would keep my distance, and wouldn’t let them near.
    They were a species, they were a tribe, they were called Teachers,
    Iron fist, order, discipline and rule were their main features.
    Recently,
    I realized this isn’t the usual profile, but here it’s more of a trend,
    A true teacher is nothing but a kind and learned friend,
    a guardian who keeps us informed, interested and snugly,
    the one who teaches us the good, the bad, and the ugly.
    12090501 ~ Oais Halim