Another PP Game

This time we are writing fiction poetry. Remember that the subject is about mystery, which means you have to put your minds in the state of suspense. And as before the rules are two line stanza, where each line should start with the last word(s) of the line before it. You are free to submit as many stanzas as you are intuited to do, rhyming or free verse 😀

Mystery Man

Just a kiss and I’m in bliss
I wondered what else you had in store

Boy, I can’t wait to see where this goes LOL

Being in Love

You asked me if I’m in love
How would I know if I am!

I am in danger – state of passion
Stop playing with that heart !!

That heart you torn apart
In pieces of void

Of void innards I speak
Of amputated limbs I cry

I cry rivers of longing
Every time you leave my side

My side rides with the tides
It’s time to cry but no tears in my eye

My eye, what use can it do!
If not to weep or cry..

Weep or cry or not to
Eyes are dry to see you

To see you like once I saw you
When I still had my sight

My sight waits for the day
To once again see I pray

I pray in the arms of your dusk
With candles burning your lust

Your lust got me mystified
But wait you run and I hide

I hide from you, I can’t
Because you and me are one

One is my heart
One is my love

My love, do you love me?
My love, do you love me?

Do you love me or not?
Answer and break my heart

Break my heart as you’ve done before
For I would ask of you no more

No more being close
And no more being far

Far where I’ve always been
Although rooted in your skin

Your skin where my heaven was
Your skin where I used to hide

To hide this lust is blasphemy
I don’t dare, I don’t care

I don’t care not to dare
Being estranged in this affair

This affair I live within
This affair under my skin

My skin begs your nights
And wishes to melt on you

On you and only you
I cry and say oo oooh

Oo oooh the pain. Yet I love it
It’s all I have left of you

Of you, a fragrance I keep dreaming
Surrendering to the sweet delusion

Sweet delusion got me trapped
All my energy is just tapped

Tapped at my left side brain
You are driving me insane

“Insanely great”; that’s how our new Macintosh shall be
The promise Steve made came true back in eighty-four

Eighty-four when it all began
Forbidden fruit that you fed me

Fed me from that forbidden apple
Which taste I crave while holding my son

My son, you know he’s yours
Why would you deny it?

Deny it! Like you would ever admit!
As always your mind is full of shit

Full of shit and you permit
Yourself to ask if I’m in love!

I’m in love again and again
That’s all what you’re going to gain

Going to gain my freedom back
Going to place my heart on a rack

On a rack island is the place I long for
To be immersed in the spirit of Caledonia!

Copyright; Bosale7,AyyA, Morish, Familiar-Stanger, TAT, NewMe, Soud, Neelaah, Whit Wings, Q, DA, Hanan, Intlxpatr, Arfana.

PS; for those who have no idea what’s going on please check my previous post, thanks 😀

Let’s Play a Passion Poetry Game

I will start with a stanza of two lines, you take the last word(s) and compose your own stanza, but keep the number of lines to two and the main subject, you can use rhyming or just a free verse, and you can also provide more than one verse, any time you like, whether successively or otherwise. It does not have to be serious though, anything would do, and let’s see what we could collectively produce 🙂
On mark, ready? Go

Being in Love

You asked me if I’m in love
How would I know if I am!

Now the next line should start with “I am”
Yallah, time to show some talented skills 😉

Life Goes on

You left me empty handed
When I left the world for you
But funny when you left
The world came back to me

Did you think a girl like me
Could be left alone?
Honey, you have no idea
What favors you’ve done for me

X wanted to hear my voice
Y craved a look
Z was waiting all night long
While I read my book

It’s true I miss you at times
Yet, you made me see
How blind I wanted to be
To life ahead of me

Last night I had such a laugh
Tearing into my cheeks
It’s been a while since I laughed
No joke seemed funny to me

Last night I was his queen
Protected by his care
He tucked me in his iris
And covered me with mercy

When A took me by surprise
And filled my night with ecstasy
I realized life must go on
And so do we

Time to Celebrate

Yallah, take off all your reserves (not clothes), and dance with me
Happy Eid you’ll 😀
powered by ODEO

Ramadaniyat (XI)

Ramadan is almost over, and I guess this is my last Ramadaniyat post, so I’ll make it your post, because regardless of what I have mentioned in my previous Ramadaniyat posts; there is one question that is still puzzling me, although I think that I have reached the answer, but not sure;
Can man ever do without spirituality? And if he can’t; does this spirituality have to be connected to God of religions (the supernatural) ? In other words; can’t we be spiritual by other means?

Happy Eid* everyone and I’m waiting for your insights impatiently, I’ll let you do the talking this time, but please be honest 🙂

• Eid: celebration of breaking the fast of the month of Ramadan (this note is special to Intlxpatr 🙂 )

My mood today is a bit cranky; more like Evanescence’s “My Immortal”


“My Immortal”

I’m so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
‘Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won’t leave me alone

These wounds won’t seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There’s just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears
When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me

You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I’m bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me

I’ve tried so hard to tell myself that you’re gone
But though you’re still with me
I’ve been alone all along

Ramadaniyat (X)

When I was a little girl of about ten, one night I woke up after midnight suffocating. There was a dim light coming through the large window, in my bedroom, facing the street. And I was struck to see a hand stuck to the window as if someone was trying to get in from outside. On the other side of the light a tall black figure stood and was pointing his hand to my direction with a hissing sound. I remember that night I got so frightened that my scream gathered even the cats in my bedroom.
It tuned out that the weather got really dusty that night right after my retirement to bed, and there was a previous scratch at the window, of which some dust seeped in and polluted the air in the room, and others formed what shaped like a hand on the window (on a closer look; it did not look like a hand at all), the huge figure turned out to be an Abbaya (Arabic women head cover costume) that my mom hung on a stand hanger, beside the cupboards, right in front of the window, and the movement was caused by the air-conditioning in the room.
I remember before going to sleep that night, my cousin and me were at her place listening to baba 3od’s (her grandpa) tales of 3athab elqabr (grave torture). I also remember that on that night I was terrified to go to sleep that I tossed and turned for hours before turning in.

At another incident; at about the age of fifteen, the same cousin was spending the night over at my place, and between cigarette brakes in the bathroom using her grandpa’s stolen cigarettes, we talked about Eljin, and the haunted houses. My cousin and me were so alike except for the fact that she lived on superstition and I totally denied them. We spent almost till dawn with her convincing me, or me convincing her (doesn’t matter since we were both hard headed), none of us got convinced, so we both went to sleep.
Less than a half an hour later, while I was trying to sleep on my back, I felt my chest getting so heavy that I almost lost breath, there was this huge thing over me squashing me underneath, and paralyzing my movements. I could not make out his face but I heard voices in unionism like a chorus, repeating over and over again something like ” you have to believe in us, you have to, say it”, I finally said it, not because I resisted to say it in the beginning, but because my tongue was too numb to say it. Right after that I felt as if I woke up from a nightmare with sweated body. Yet it did not seem like a dream because everything in the room including my cousin who was in the next bed was so vivid in the dream, the only difference was the existence of that creepy thing. Next morning I told my cousin what happened and she told me of yathoom that is caused by demons.
When my son was two, we discovered by accident that he had G6PD deficiency, he had something in breakfast that we didn’t know that he shouldn’t have had, and the result was constant loss of his blood through urine. I spent three nights and days praying by his hospital bed. His body turned to almost white, his eyes white, his lips blue. The doctors were trying hard to save him, blood bags were emptied into his veins and right after drained through his urine, his body was poisoning the fresh blood he was receiving. I hardly had few naps on the sofa beside him throughout those days, only left the hospital to take a shower.
I remember I got so desperate that after one of my prayers I got so angry at God and asked him to either bring him to life or take him, I kept crying in my prayers “ don’t torture him and me more than this, I can’t bare to see my baby suffering”, I also told Him that I wasn’t going to pray for him again if He was so helpless. And after that I took the little carpet away and sat beside my baby’s bed watching the blood bag slowly trickling blood in the tubes leading to his veins. After sitting in this solitude for about half an hour, I noticed the name Allah in Arabic (with elshadah) forming in the remains of the blood in the bag, at that instant my husband came in and he saw my big smile amidst joyous tears looking up, he asked what I was doing and I pointed out to the bag saying ”read this”, he said” sub7an allah”.

Now what do these stories have in common? FEAR
Fear of the horror fictions that molded our pure childish brains, mostly by people we love and trust. Fear for the lives and well being of our loved ones. Fear of being an outcast if we didn’t follow the majority. In a nutshell; fear from the unknown.
Fear is so strong that it could easily induce imagination. People who swore that they have seen Virgin Mary are no liars, and those who saw ghosts are also no liars, they wanted to see a sign as I wanted to see it, and persuaded my husband to see it, and we both did.
Imagination can do wonders, and fear can give way to imagination; Don Quixote de la Mancha fought the windmills as he saw them giants. He was not a madman; he was just too much into the chivalry books he read. And his fear for the maidens and the poor, made him behave oddly. Just like my widowed cousin, who lost her husband more than ten years ago, and who did not remarry because her late husband still visits her almost everyday. And if baba 3od was alive today, he would’ve probably seen him as well.
Faith is one way of protection against fear, and religion enforces fear to strengthen faith. So it is no surprise to see educated people believe in fairytales. And see them as well.

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