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Our Own 16 March 2006

Posted by ABD in ABD, Poetry, Spirituality.
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by ABD

I.
He steps out on his lilac porch
to watch the setting sun—
the Mrs. is a Miss again,
the kids have up and gone.
For every night they waited
he thought he’d make it home—
but the fast lane has no exits
and at the end we drive alone.

II.
She stumbles into taller grass
that slices up the moon
into a thousand pieces,
and winter’s coming soon.
It was so many nights ago
she wished upon a star—
youth has ebbed, love has fled
and left behind a scar.

III.
I’ve wondered now and then
how life’s best to be lived—
if gems are to be dug, or found
and taken as a gift.
Either way, it seems to me
that free will’s overblown:
we make our life, we make our death
but can’t make it on our own.

December 2005

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Comments»

1. Maryam - 16 March 2006

nice!

2. Tiel Aisha Ansari - 16 March 2006

Very nice.

3. The Turk - 16 March 2006

love it brother..

esp. these lines

“Either way, it seems to me
that free will’s overblown:
we make our life, we make our death
but can’t make it on our own.”

my sentiments exactly…

Yaar, we all should be in jannah; enjoying eternity – innshallah

4. Reem - 17 March 2006

beautifully written

5. ibrahim D. - 3 April 2006

Well written, i didn’t know you were a poet too…


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