The Sound of Ayn

The Sound of Ayn

A Poem by Radad Ibn Nasir
"

An analytical piece drowned in wailing stigmas.

"

Part I- To Me

I spent... in which I mean, I explained, all my scars that you now see as stains.

I don’t apologize for what I gave, because the truth is... what remains.

I forgive your accuracy and your aim. I promise it’s not in vain.

I wish to tell you, I’m not insane. In fact, I’m out of my brain.

But, it’s a process of thoughts I need to train.

A provocative onslaught I try to refrain.

But, I can’t help it, to me it’s plain.

To your avoidance, I complain.

To your annoyance, I feign.

To me, you drain.

 

Part II- To You

 Flooded. I forgive like the rain.

Grow my sweet seed and release the pain.

For what I have, I truly cannot contain

The weaker spark that once was a flame...

So take your piece, it doesn’t fit your name.

For peace, I’ll look up from whence I came.

Hoping, never again... because different isn’t the same.

© 2010 Radad Ibn Nasir


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Reviews

nice, i liked the last line "hoping never again...because different isn't the same"...also how the first part gradually receded nicely done

Posted 14 Years Ago


Beautiful...just wonderful piece of work

Posted 14 Years Ago


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. wow ... exceptionally beautifully written and presented ... a very, very captivating write ... and the last line ... is absolute genius ... so simply stated but so incredibly profound ...

Posted 14 Years Ago


I liked your format, and the tone the narrator had, but I've never really enjoyed constant same rhymes like that. That aspect of the poem kept me from really getting into it, but I'm sure other people would like it.

Posted 14 Years Ago


Unique presentation - I like it!

Very powerful little line: "To me, you drain." Summed up your experience perfectly.

Very good write!

Posted 14 Years Ago



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768 Views
15 Reviews
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Added on October 30, 2010
Last Updated on November 1, 2010
Tags: To me, you, him, her, people, person, rain, hurt, misunderstood, interpret, life

Author

Radad Ibn Nasir
Radad Ibn Nasir

Youngstown, OH



About
A voice without a canvas is just an echo heard throughout time. Sometimes children ask me to play, so I play. The elderly beckon with wisdom and I syphon. I think I was born an expression... I hav.. more..

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