Impromptu Poem 19/07/2017

I wander in but one form

without a truth and into the trees.

My eyes rise.

the blinding sunlight is stifled

by a mess of branches that

only leaves regret at my own

entanglement

with life, with minds, with hearts…

 

I keep walking

clad in a mosaic of shades.

With each step I take,

It gives me a new form –

but only of darkness.

 

It’s been a long time since I wrote poetry. One of the things I regret: not sticking to poetry. It’s been very therapeutic for me.

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Along the Wind

along_the_windAlong the wind,

I bend and I sway.

Time is slipping by.

The ground beneath me

is all I see.

The poison in the pain

is the illusion of hope.

It’s all lines; It’s all lies,

drawn with an artist’s brush,

beautifying and simplifying

the irregular rythmes of

the strokes that once

portrayed the truth.

The truth that is now so tainted

that compelled me to write these words.

Impromptu Write 03/May/2017 © Wassim Cherif

I miss writing poetry (I wouldn’t call the one above true poetry). Sometimes I get urges to scribble down some ideas so I do so without a filter and that’s what my impromptu poems are. I keep them untouched and unedited because they represent a state of mind at a certain time. It’d be interesting to go back to them years later and see myself through them.

 

Impromptu Poem 17/01/2017

The Greatest Wall in the World

There is this wall somewhere in my mind,

everywhere in the world and it is the greatest.

This wall is invisible and is visible to all.

Anyone can reach it, effortlessly, just like breathing.

Most times, it is what we want to be.

A wall of reflection and projection.

A birthplace of great ideas

that pushed us far into our journey in this world

but it is a shame that now we might consider

anything other than Imagination being the greatest

because once we do, the wall will turn into a ceiling.

 

© Waseem Sherif | 17/01/2017 

Impromptu post for Weekly Discover Challenge

 

 

[Journal]Impromptu Poem 23/09/2016

It’s been months since the last time I have posted poetry here. and It’s been even longer since the last time I’ve written poetry seriously; as in poetry for poetry not poetry for self-therapy!

We all have issues and each of us deals with them on their own way. mine was writing, even though i was never good at it. It’s not a problem for me, I’m even fine with writing ungrammatically as long as I transfer something to paper. But there are also times when I become a sort of a perfectionist. That’s when it takes at least a week for me to finish up a poem! and I haven’t done that in a long time. I guess I got distracted by whatever life’s throwing at me which between us is a whole lot of nothing. Perhaps that’s exactly why! It’s the nothingness, the utter plainness of routine and total detachment from the time-flow. In fact, it’s more like a nothingness that’s extremely busy! It’s somewhere and somewhen you get lost in pallid tones of life.

I gotta tell you it’s a pretty bad time and space to exist in! Well, at least I’m not alone there. I have my words and I have my people (and coffee too!) That makes it bearable.

This poem’s taken from my Impromptu Poetry notebook. Now that I’m reading it after a few months it actually doesn’t make sense. Whatever! I’m sure it made perfect sense back when I wrote it.

 

Memories lost in misty veils of grey

Fading into darkness elegantly

Leaving only poignant pain

oscillating in a hollow heart

moments I can no longer name,

carried with them a person

the person I used to be

feelings are now a fringe frontier

I’m in a transition into a dominion of

Processed poetry and unknown knowns

What remains is a distorted face

That doesn’t remember its features.

 

Wassim Cherif © Impromptu Poetry 2016

 

Impromptu Poem 06/08/2016

My image is fading from my innate vision.

I am a silhouette cracked by

naked tree branches like dry veins.

I crumble to a pile of defeated dignity.

An air of insecurity looms over my living remains.

The world denies my mantras and

I fail to comprehend the logic behind its beliefs.

Perhaps it is rejection rather than incomprehension.

 

Waseem Sherif 06/08/2016

another impromptu write on the phone.

The Strength Behind Frailty

There is a little world

hidden inside our hearts.

a two-faced principle that

follows and defies the rules

of our existence.

it’s a place where our feet

land when we stumble.

at its core, gravity pulls

our weakness at the moment

of our fragility;

it also turns it to strength and

sends it back to our nonhidden heart

so we can advance once again

and reach new heights.

Waseem Sherif  18/07/2016

something on-the-spot for the Daily Prompt: Frail.

Unrevised Thoughts 18/07/2016

Written for the Daily Prompt: Drive.

 

I’m looking at the world

and I’m looking at mine

I can’t help but notice

the difference in our drive

 

See the people yearning

the sun scorching

I’m scared of the heat

I put a hold on my life.

 

I have some time to think

why is it that I’m here?

questions fill my mind

the world closes in on me

 

It is occupied by movement

which I’m incapable of following

although I know what propels it

I can’t accept its pragmatic nature

 

my drive shall be my own

from its inception to the movement

that will follow

and I will be gliding towards

the sun daring and unafraid.

 

Waseem Sherif  18/07/2016

[Impromptu poem] a little bit of fact and a little bit of fiction.