Dec 22
alhaag's picture

Stargazer

I lay
Gazing ever so longingly
up at the stars
Those supernovas
millions of light years away
bathing me in their light
The funny thing is
most of the ones I presently see
radiating their fluorescence
Are in fact quite dead

The sight of their explosions
won’t reach my
minuscule speck of a planet
for millions of years

I sit here watching history
Seeing the universe the way it was
for millions of years
The stars are human-likein a way
Bright superficially
but underneath many years’ worth
of hiding
their cores are exploding
Like the life of someone
Whose inner spark is
wavering
Dec 22
alhaag's picture

Fear, the Powerful

Fear.
It’s icy hands wrap
around my throat
choking me slowly

I know you Fear
you follow me everywhere
never am I safe from your grasp
I feel your presence ever near
some days I evade you
but you always return

Won’t you leave me in peace
hard-hearted fear
when finally happiness I have found
you grip a heart
that now belongs to someone else
finally, I’ve found happiness
but even in that bliss
I have fear
fear that these happy days will end
as quickly as they did begin

I wish for freedom from you Fear
when I toss and turn at night
mulling over minced words
which may have begun
an ending to my new days of light
when I have nothing to fear
you return me to insecurity
with your deathly hands
always reaching to suck the
happiness from my soul

But fear, I wield your enemy
I have love in my heart
Dec 17
poem 1 comment challenge: Mundane
alhaag's picture

Beauty In Boredom

A lonely pen
fashioned from the
recycled plastic of a bottle
sits on a countertop.
Apart from the black electrical tape
encircling its wounded shell
it is thoroughly unremarkable,
Half the black ink blood
has bled from its tip
and no-one has bothered
to refill what is lost,
In the empty kitchen
dust particles are illuminated.
the sun peeks
curiously through the curtains,
the soul-filled vessel
Collecting dust on the counter’s top,
A thin sheet of paper
lays deadened on the icy marble
no wind to splay its fibers
or sun to kiss its yellowing surface,
The ink dots old and fading
but the strokes made by
an otherworldly hand
tell a story,
The letters cling to the parchment, begging
not to fade away into a deep abyss
of forgotten-ness
There is a magic in each scratch
each divet in the paper
Nov 24
alhaag's picture

The Glass in My So(u)l(e)


The glass crunches under my feet

The shards reminiscent
of my shattered soul
Crackling under the weight
Of the burden on my shoulders
As I strain for footing
On the slick wave of crystal
The soles of my sneakers
Take the stabs without complaint
They are good soldiers, protecting
Their homeland my feet
As I plod along a dangerous course
They don’t question me,
Not even for a moment
They simply follow the demands
Of my marching feet
Left, right and the glass
Slashes, clawing at my skin
But it cannot reach me
Through the caring shell
My soles
Do they have
Souls of their own
Do they even know
The things they do for me
If soles were souls, would we
Treat them with respect
The way they deserve
Oct 27
poem 0 comments challenge: I Am
alhaag's picture

Good Enough

I am who I am
But
That’s not good enough for you
I am who I am
But perhaps
Who I am
Is not who I aspire to be

I am smart
I am creative
When I write, words
Flow from tongue to page
As if water gently gurgling
Or gushing if need be
From a wellspring
But
I am insecure
I am self-doubting
When I try to coordinate my limbs
They don’t respond to my command
Catch the ball
Block the pass
Swish the net
It doesn’t work like that for me

I love competition
But hate being last
I love being good at many things
But hate that good isn’t good enough
I love many things about me
But I hate things too

I want to make a difference by being a star
But I also want a view from an f-16 cockpit
I want to make enough money to live like a king
But I also want to help the weak
I want to be happy by myself
Oct 20
alhaag's picture

Slalom

The sharp-cutting wind
                                        Whips around me
Like rapids as I                      
                        Swim downstream
My lungs are           
           Free
                                              As they open wide
Calming the racing                                  
                      Heartbeat
  The microscopic                    
                          Flakes
All around me                   
                              Stand still
Deer in the headlights                                       
                 While I soar
As an eagle would                       
                                 Over the bleached
                    Landscape                                    
            Or rather
         Ride                   
                        The blank wave
Oct 15
alhaag's picture

Faster


Air, clean and pure
fills my lungs

Two steps
One breath

Lean forward
up the hill

Two steps
One breath

Pump your arms
faster

Two steps
One breath

Pass one, two, three competitors
all straining for the peak

Two steps
One breath

Reach the top
don't slow down

Two steps
One breath

Lean into the
downhill sprint
long strides

Two steps
One breath

Let your body
relax
gravity will
do the work

Two steps
One breath

Don't think about
the exhaustion
only the medal
you're only a few
places away

Two steps
One breath

Overtake these next
three runners
work harder

Two steps
One breath

Break the barrier
between mind and body
500 meters left
pump arms harder
Oct 15
alhaag's picture

If Only


The waves roll softly on the beach underneath our feet as we dangle them over the cliff face. The wind blowing unhindered carries the sounds and smells of our favorite place. We are the only two people within this little world of ours. The breeze is calm, gentle, making the sunny day feel more like Autumn, as it should be. The only noises we can hear are rolling, crashing waves, swaying trees groaning peacefully as they stretch their limbs, and whistling, whispering wind telling us of the times we've shared as if they were secrets. Our hands, yours smooth, warm, gentle, and mine, slender, rough, caring. I look up from the waving sea to find your hair dancing a waltz to the wind's soft laughter. The twirling brown locks frame your face as if I were Da Vinci, and you my Mona Lisa. You turn to me, first your face with lips red as wild cherries and eyes soft and sparkling, mischeviously dancing with life and love and euphoria.
Sep 28
poem 8 comments challenge: Peace
alhaag's picture

Piece by Peace

Piece By Peace
You want peace?
I don’t think you understand
Peace isn’t a slice of pie
Baked just for you
Peace is something you work for
Peace is something you revise
Peace is something you fight for

Peace is a mindset
A societal agreement
But you ask for it…
No, beg for it
As if it’s a toy in a shop window
Some object that can be bought or sold

How can we have peace
When a difference in opinion
Is a fistfight of words
People trying to punch each other’s faces so hard
That they forget what they’re “debating” about

Nowadays words are used as weapons
Since our bombs don’t currently speak
We don’t use words to solve problems
We use them to disagree
We use them to suppress and discriminate

How can you and I
Advocate Peace
When our words are nuclear bombs