Shakieb Orgunwall's Blog, page 14
February 15, 2014
Poetry poems poem writing words word quote quotes love tears
Poetry poems poem writing words word quote quotes love tears
Love passion madness fire heart poem poetry writing words word
Love passion madness fire heart poem poetry writing words word
Poem poetry prose poems quotes quote writing word words
Poem poetry prose poems quotes quote writing word words
Peoms poetry poem words writing
Peoms poetry poem words writing
February 14, 2014
February 13, 2014
February 11, 2014
#people #writing #gold
#people #writing #gold
February 10, 2014
"My son, you are just an infant now, but on that day when the world disrobes of its alluring cloak,..."
My son, you are just an infant now, but on that day when the world disrobes of its alluring cloak, it is then that I pray this letter is in your hands.
Listen closely, my dear child, for I am more than that old man in the dusty portrait beside your bed. I was once a little boy in my mother’s arms and a babbling toddler on my father’s lap.
I played till the sun would set and climbed trees with ease and skill. Then I grew into a fine young man with shoulders broad and strong. My bones were firm and my limbs were straight; my hair was blacker than a raven’s beak. I had a spring in my step and a lion’s roar. I travelled the world, found love and married. Then off to war I bled in battle and danced with death.
But today, vigor and grace have forsaken me and left me crippled.
Listen closely, then, as I have lived not only all the years you have existed, but another forty more of my own.
My son, We take this world for a permanent place; we assume our gains and triumphs will always be; that all that is dear to us will last forever.
But my child, time is a patient hunter and a treacherous thief: it robs us of our loved ones and snatches up our glory. It crumbles mountains and turns stone to sand. So who are we to impede its path?
No, everything and everyone we love will vanish, one day.
So take time to appreciate the wee hours and seconds you have in this world. Your life is nothing but a sum of days so why take any day for granted? Don’t despise evil people, they are here for a reason, too, for just as the gift salt offers to food, so do the worst of men allow us to savor the sweet, hidden flavor of true friendship.
Dear boy, treat your elders with respect and shower them with gratitude; they are the keepers of hidden treasures and bridges to our past. Give meaning to your every goodbye and hold on to that parting embrace just a moment longer—you never know if it will be your last.
Beware the temptation of riches and fame for both will abandon you faster than our own shadow deserts us at the approach of the setting sun. Cultivate seeds of knowledge in your soul and reap the harvest of good character.
Above all, know why you have been placed on this floating blue sphere, swimming through space, for there is nothing more worthy of regret than a life lived void of this knowing.
My son, dark days are upon you. This world will not leave you with tears unshed. It will squeeze you in its talons and lift you high, then drop you to plummet and shatter to bits . But when you lay there in pieces scattered and broken, gather yourself together and be whole once more. That is the secret of those who know.
So let not my graying hairs and wrinkled skin deceive you that I do not understand this modern world. My life was filled with a thousand sacrifices that only I will ever know and a hundred gulps of poison I drank to be the father I wanted you to have.
But, alas, such is the nature of this life that we will never truly know the struggles of our parents—not until that time arrives when a little hand—resembling our own—gently clutches our finger from its crib.
My dear child, I fear that day when you will call hopelessly upon my lifeless corpse and no response shall come from me. I will be of no use to you then but I hope these words I leave behind will echo in your ears that day when I am no more. This life is but a blink in the eye of time, so cherish each moment dearly, my son. —Shakieb Orgunwall
”- Shakieb Orgunwall
February 9, 2014
When our flame begins to flicker and our candle is snuffed out. When finally we are lowered where...
When our flame begins to flicker and our candle is snuffed out.
When finally we are lowered where none can hear us shout.
Only then do we see our lives with a renewed sense of doubt.
For before us then will lay the many daggers we had thrust,
into the backs of all those people who never dreamed we’d be unjust.
We recall the phony promises we made and all the sins we privately committed yet openly forbade. The fragile hearts we cut and hurt, with all those reckless words we’d shout and blurt.
And soon we realize we’re not alone inside our tomb.
Lying there beside our breast, the hypocrite from within us, is also laid to rest.
And there are others who begin to join us now; a villain, a liar, a cheat.
Under their added weight our coffin starts to creak.
And suddenly we realize we hadn’t lived our lives alone: We’d been several other people, for who’s sins we must now atone.
So let us live as one so we may die as none…but ourselves.
And be not of those who succumb to every whim and lust, and descend at ease into that dark and dreary pit where the earth turns men to dust. —Shakieb Orgunwall
February 8, 2014
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