Impromptu Untitled 01/05/2016


a stormy night shattered

the fabric of the unseen.

the moment of retiring

the long-lived lies from

a fabricated existence.

the tearing of the flesh

rendered the truth naked

bones reveling in grotesque

articulation of structured

reality and scripted consciousness.

now it lays in graves of

failed awakenings where

hope is air and despair

is the earth that entombs all.


01/05/2016 © Waseem Sherif

Impromptu Untitled 30/04/2016

I have no stories with words and scribbles

ink crawling on derelict parchments

just a stowaway on a mind-boat

sailing aimlessly in oceans of language

alone. among the timelessness of

their chaotic movements.


There is no X to mark the spot.

no clouds above, no sky

no water in the ocean, just an ocean

no metaphors, no poetry.


I have no stories to tell.

just a Broken inkling of nonexistence

in a Room of Empty Reveries

and the Void to fill it with.


no meaning. no sense.

irrational. unreasonable.



take it or leave it. that is

the only story I have for you.

isolated in its own fantasy,

feeding upon those oceans

full of scribbles and words and

bones carved by quills,

the instruments of Poetry and



30/04/2016 © Waseem Sherif

Nature of my Poetry

my poetry is an element of my existence’s character,
a timeless experience reigning the mind/soul complex throne
condemned to be dethroned upon articulation.

Language exiles it to the labels of timeline and history.

Confined to the prison of runes, glyphs and symbols;
receded from ethereal music to limited auditory markers,
from endless primordial euphoria to structures of consistent imagery;
morphed from an eternal wanderer sage into a soldier of syntactic rules;
it dies
my poetry dies
my soul dies


26/03/2016 © Waseem Sherif

Impromptu Untitled 28/04/2016

Fluid mind motions

free from language

Thoughts, pure and naked,

stark in the vast

forgetful existence,

are the truth in its

primordial origin.


28/04/2016 © Waseem Sherif

Author’s Notes:

The truth lives in the very core of our being. however, it might be lost or forgotten because man always seeks ‘meaning’ and sometimes meaning isn’t enough. <= just an idea that’s been in my head lately. I have a lot of free time to waste wandering in endless philosophical BS. 

Seeker Under Moonlight

Monochrome shades regulate the scenery.
Upon pallid lands, skyscrapers erected high
sweeping the horizon in chaotic asymmetry.
The sky crashes like a wave of gloom in the night.

The moon yet reigns with majestic tyranny.
Its silver light devours the darkness in my eyes.
The streets are plastered by shadows in company;
some are illuminated by patches of moonlight.

I walk the contrasted streets burdened on my feet.
My sight rises scheming ahead the blurred lines
anticipating a familiar shape of memory,
an opened door of a home and a warm smile.


21/02/2016 © Waseem Sherif

Author’s Notes: 

rhymed poetry is not my preference. but I do like to try different forms once in a while.


So many feelings yet so few words
I’m lost within these runes of love
It feels like music played with magic
And I’m just so helpless to play it along

by my humble and plain ink moods
I try my best to channel the magic out
The pen as my wand, waving it around
Alas. Not a word. Not a sound.


17/01/2016 © Waseem Sherif

Daily Picks 27/04/2016

Random picks.


I don’t like roses much. I do love jasmine though. too bad I don’t have a good shot. It’s going to be jasmine season soon here in Tunisia and I’ll make sure to get good macro shots.


That is me! just my reflection on water at the deep bottom of a well.

Now, say hi to Nunu. :3


Hannibal Barca (3rd panel) & Publius Corneilius Scipio Africanus (1st panel) from the historical manga, Ad Astra.


I’m sorry for the random picks this time! I take pictures randomly so I thought it wouldn’t be a problem to share them randomly too! >_<