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Paradox

a poem by Umar Siddiqui


She tossed pebbles
Into her reflection
On the lake
So the ripples
Reflect how she sees herself

He sits

Playing rock, paper, scissors
With his shadow
As if each time will
Lead to a different outcome
In her mirrorless house
Pictures of her sat face down
On each shelf
He wanted to make the world
Think he was loved
So he carved two names into a tree
He kept the calendar on the same date

From ten years ago
As if it’ll keep time stuck in place

Umar Siddiqui

published in Genre: Urban Arts Second Edition

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Foresight

In the midst of a field

Maybe if the universe gave me a chance
or time did, to keep my wheel of life running
my heart would still pray, to time again
to keep the one I love, to hold my hand
by my side, till time does its duty.

I would watch, leaning on his shoulders
generations of the future, spinning galaxies
and turning time around their wrists, running
along the path, that unfolds like a carpet
opening portals to newer, stranger things.

I would curate the memories made, and recover
the ones lost, at times and tides tempestuous
make plaques and statues out of them, and
finally, a temple in which my children would come
and make themselves owners, to these memories, lost.

I would forever, keep doing this, till I’m tired
till my heart is tired, till my soul stretches out
to the golden thread of salvation, weaving
a fabric of age and the final time, shrouded
over what will be left of me, a feeble human body
till I’m contented with what I’ve become, and
slowly disappear like a mirage, fade away, for
the future child to spin my stories someday.

(from ‘MUSINGS OF A SPEARHEAD’- to be published)

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I am Eternal…for the Time being

The poetry of my life is, in effect,

the rejection I have learned to endure.
(It’s a beautiful thing, coping with tears,
sucking them in, then breathing and living again)
Every hour, at least, I think to myself:
What is next for me to create.
And there’s always a mess, some state,
more or less, of constant re-arranging
and deciding what to keep and what to throw away.
I’ve had luck, close calls, that’s for sure,
things that have swung this way, not that.
I’m still pulsing, still breathing,
got a scar or two for the show,
and I ache but the drink helps with that.
I grizzle and belch, got a miserable frown
sometimes I stare into space and just rest
and empty my thoughts except for this one:
I have no idea what any of this means.
But why must it have meaning, a human construct,
like time, or money, or words.
It is what it is, that’s all it can be
whatever it is, to begin.
Fuck me, I’m flailing, I often intone,
as I snap back to the clunking machine.
There’s work to be done, the wheels need a grease
and the money certainly doesn’t grow on trees.
At night, when my eyes start to shut
and the breeze filters through the dark,
the earth keeps turning and
the fires of home and heart still burn.
I sleep, hope to dream, safe with the thought
that the day always seems to come back around.
I am eternal…for the time being.
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T H E C A L E N D E R

 

Days turned into nights, I continued to stand still
and pondered why time flies so fast?
I traveled through my memory,
I realized that nothing ever lasts.
Each day passes by, one after the other,
some have a hidden purpose
and some are utterly reasonless,
Some days are indelible and some
just leave us with an uncertain guess.
Continue reading T H E C A L E N D E R

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I Am Not Afraid of Time

There’s a faint voice in my chest
Telling me I have no time on which to hold
Insisting that I hurry
Whispering steadily, speedily
That I quicken my step
Hasten my ascent to ever fleeting success
Incessantly reminding me of my age
And that I am becoming too old for firsts or fresh starts
So I speak over myself
Loudly
Drowning out the tick-tocking
While respecting that I only get so many before I end
I will acknowledge but will not fear time

 

 

_______________________________

Photography: Lanaya

@writing.for.the.calm

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Red Light Special.

Listen to the hum.
The thought of speeding
down a side street
to beat a red light.
The rushing.
The wishing away.
The avoidance.
The fear to face the truth.
The thoughts collected in
the blink of a traffic light.
Recognize your true reflections.

Continue reading Red Light Special.

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Merciful Dawn

Justify. Such an apologetic word.
Nonetheless–yes, I’ve used a transition,
to transition to the fact that we are justifiable.
Do you need to see me to know I am smiling?
Of course not. You are more than aware that
your green makes me bloom and let go of any
frequency of fear that may frequent my space.

What is it that you want out of this world?
Go to the zenith of your thoughts and
tell me what you deem momentous.
I need to know what pushes you to feel
alive to the point that it’s near deadly.

Isn’t that how life juts out and meddles with time?
It pushes us to feel like it exists differently, more naive.
And yet, we sit and meander through our thoughts
in order to turn over the real beauty that surrounds us.
I hold still to the belief in love and light,
your eyes more bright and telling than
a crystal or a merciful dawn.

_________________________

Photo Credit: Lanaya

@writing.for.the.calm

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Be Present, Stay Wild

Time and its illusion of clockwork.
Perhaps, created to cope with existentialism
Ultimately feeding into consumerism
We appear to connect through a coded probability
Undoubtedly, disconnecting in reality
A species, broken by regression, through technological progression
Resulting in being less organic and more mechanic
Compartmentalizing our thoughts like computerized bots
It’s schematic
When I catch myself clock watching, in worry of time gone too soon,
I get on all fours, arch my back and howl at the dark side of the moon

___________________

Photo Credit: Nour

IG: @sparksflyidraw

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Inevitable.

I wiped my face off.
Suddenly,
I was ashamed
of the salty words
that ran down my cheek.
I remember every detail,
the whole twenty-four hours.
I was just waiting for you.
My over-worked mind
began to run away
from me again.
I was trembling.
When I relaxed a little,
the fear actually crept closer.
I heard dead leaves whistle,
And then, I knew
what must be done.
I made the choice–
I decided to be happy
to be there for myself.