Unrevised Thoughts 05/07/2016

Walled inside a single thought
of stationary progress,
a ghost of a mind exposed to
conflicted consciousness;
perplexed by the innocence of its
self-created confusion;
worn out by the contradiction of
the passage of time across
platforms assert its erasure.
Within a multitude of axes,
an existence might even negate the
awareness of its own being.

Waseem Sherif © 05/07/2016

yeah, i write this nonsense on my phone while I can’t sleep at night. but this stuff comes out in such an uninterrupted stream that it makes me wonder if it’s really nonsense…

Happy Eid el Fitr to all Muslims around the world! ^_^ 

Impromptu Poem 23/03/2016

A rainy day in spring
is when his brokenness cries,
soaking his face in tears.

Warm drops ease
hidden pain of a ruptured character.

now he shall rest and unburden
on his wooden bed,
carved by catharsis,
blanketed by bliss.


Waseem Sherif © 23/03/2016

Mementos (Part One)


From the Times that Were and the Times that Weren’t


Seas Stones

sea stones smooth and round

like the skin of her smiling face,

I hold them in my hands and feel

as if Love is singing a lullaby,

wrapping me in Her ethereal embrace.


Two Cups of Coffee

Two cups of coffee, long gulps and short sips,

a ritual of bitterness and joy.

an expanse of all that we have,

but only an inkling of all that we’ll have.



Dreams come and go, back and forth,

an exchange of perpetual longings

echoing in each other’s hearts and

bursting from the chaos of our frustration.


Her Smile

Erasure of time and memory

could not blur her dimpled smile.

The lost eons and dementia blights

dared not taint that eternal arch.


Waseem Sherif © 03-10/05/2016

Impromptu Untitled 22/03/2016

I direct my sight to the stars,
lonely in their place of rest,
a night sky, painted by grief.

so faint, so dim,
like the last thoughts
of a broken man.

They sink into the void.
Their weavings dissipate
leaving my eyes blank
and my heart wrenching
in unnamed novel feelings.

I comprehend
a shade of darkness
I never knew before.


22/03/2016 © Waseem Sherif

inspired by a moment of serenity that turned to an unfamiliar feeling of uneasiness I had while lying on my back on the roof of the house watching the night sky.

Wooden Spectrum


Amber ridges trace the life of a world rendered hollow.


from pallid feet to auburn summits,

miniature mountains unfold within.


layers of a multitude of worlds

captivate curiousness and queries

from the core of unsatisfied minds.



worlds of wooden waves like magnets

pushing my perception away from reality,

pulling my fundamental nature to Wonder.


Pictures taken: 05/05/2016

Poems written: 10 minutes ago.

© Waseem Sherif

Daily Picks 01/05/2016



Verdant hues spring

from hopeful hearts,

serene soothing waves

sweeping my tired eyes,

washing away hidden

seas of stinging pains.


Her warm green embrace

in longing, in love, in devotion,

encompassed my blueish nature,

mended wounds pressing

lush skin against broken chest.

ethereal mesh floated majestically

under lenient sun rays.


01/05/2016 © Waseem Sherif

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