Seeker Poet

That branch laid there In front of my eyes Still green enough To be lead by the wind The only difference it had Was the place it lost For which it was made For which it was born It belonged to the tree Still standing tall and high Watching it down Estranged of it's arm Wind brought it down That led it till today Irony it is That what feeds ground Also thrashes home Now the green ornament Is lying there naked On the Wet Ground That's Content Of the homecoming But sad of the reality Which made a life Await it's end To fade in it's demolishment Buried above the ground. © Mohammad Shahnawaz 2015

Old Twisted branches, Flying ash flakes, I chose them, For my eyes to follow, At this place, With everything and nothing, I stand where wind blows and words fly, Dare to see continuously the sun, In eyes of the faces and places forbidden, Don't follow it known of nothing, Don't just go through just because it's said to do, If it's there all dusty, it's meant to be seen, Better see it today, What may be sticked to face tomorrow, See whatever passes listen to what it says, Go beyond into unseen unknown, Watching Old twisted branches, Flying ash flakes. © Mohammad Shahnawaz 2015