Poetry

BROTHER IS A LIBRARY

In the viciousness of this days;
Ignorance casts her net,
Standing by the river’s shore set,
we like fishes go our separate ways.
Before the sun goes to toilet,
like money I spend most of my time with my brother;
The children go to play farther.
But at evening we both return tired and wet.

The town crier is our father,
His name is chet;
Mami is the clouds always busy in rays.
With library (my brother) we spent most of the time together.
Dprime Rasheed.

from the archive of life I flipped open
pages of memories written in bold
some torn, some dusty and old
some rusty, concealed, never spoken.
like death’s hands, swift and cold
a sudden rapture of emptiness.
Tears lurked under the Lee of my weakness
A shelf once again on earth I cannot behold.
invaded by this state of solitariness,
from a mystic vial, mysteries unfold
a brother is a brother weather whole or broken
to dust, dust must return with utter readiness.
Supreme

It’s ok that I’m not in the sun.
Great treasures await you beneath our covers,
Memories greater than those from lovers,
Cos tonight with the star’s you’ll have fun.
Her mind is a mystery not every man can uncovers
And worthy to life pays her own story,
In its true colours and full native glory.
Her heart is that of a hardcovers.
His hot like curry and his vision is blurry.
The mystery of poetry discover
When the clouds beneath him seems so dun,
After a brother narrated tales of a night and the dragon and a child’s red wagon in hurry.
Pagez

Do you know my brother
He’s a school
A bit temperamental but cool
Study him as a boarder
Mistake him for no fool
He’s ahead when seems behind
One in the whole of mankind
He is never full
He’s a rear kind to find
About nothing will he bother
He’s the Lord’s tool
He is greatness inclined.
Samodan

I and brother started as seeds
Mum will teach us the way of the ground.
Sometimes we were lost and found
but our branches were dipped in good deeds.
I and brother became a sound
later we learnt life and chose our way
He became a tree and I was a day.
I was a square in a hole that was round.
Whenever I read, I wished he’d stay
cause trees became books and our hearts it bound.
Something I savor as a library for good reads.
This story is told of us everyday.
Rudolph
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