‘When you are dead your spirit will find my spirit, And then we shall die no more.’
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 12, 2020 | Created on June 12, 2020
The poet walked alone in a cold late rain, And thought his grief was like the crying of sea-birds; For his lover was dead, he never would love again.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 12, 2020 | Created on June 12, 2020
As darkness falls The walls grow luminous and warm, the walls Tremble and glow with the lives within them moving, Moving like music, secret and rich and warm. How shall we live tonight? Where shall we turn? To what new light or darkness yearn? A thousand winding stairs lead down before us; And one by […]
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 12, 2020 | Created on June 12, 2020
In one room, silently, lover looks upon lover, And thinks the air is fire.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 12, 2020 | Created on June 12, 2020
The young boy whistles, hurrying down the street, The young girl hums beneath her breath. One goes out to beauty, and does not know it. And one goes out to death.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 12, 2020 | Created on June 12, 2020
The days, the nights, flow one by one above us, The hours go silently over our lifted faces, We are like dreamers who walk beneath a sea. Beneath high walls we flow in the sun together. We sleep, we wake, we laugh, we pursue, we flee.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 12, 2020 | Created on June 12, 2020
What was this dream we had, a dream of music, Music that rose from the opening earth like magic And shook its beauty upon us and died away? The long cold streets extend once more before us. The red sun drops, the walls grow grey.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 12, 2020 | Created on June 12, 2020
Two lovers move in the crowd like a link of music, We press upon them, we hold them, and let them pass; A chord of music strikes us and straight we tremble; We tremble like wind-blown grass.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 12, 2020 | Created on June 12, 2020
‘One white rose . . . or is it pink, to-day?’ They pause and smile, not caring what they say, If only they may talk. The crowd flows past them like dividing waters. Dreaming they stand, dreaming they walk.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 12, 2020 | Created on June 12, 2020
Two lovers, here at the corner, by the steeple, Two lovers blow together like music blowing: And the crowd dissolves about them like a sea. Recurring waves of sound break vaguely about them, They drift from wall to wall, from tree to tree.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 12, 2020 | Created on June 12, 2020