Memories of 10th March 2008 Barbican Hall by shirani ibrahim 03/19/2010
Memories of 10th March 2008 Barbican Hall by shirani ibrahim 03/19/2010
15th March the awaited day dawns with a remembrance
Another miraculous event with a heavenly fragrance
Loss for words i dont know what to say
My twin rivers overflowing, feeling the emotions of today
Its a secret language that i cannot understand
It was a dream but tiday i awake to see its wonderland
As Nadi enters the... Barbican Hall
And majestically walks the red carpet, dignified and tall
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Barbican Hall...Melina Walks the Red Carpet..10th Marcg 2008
Melina walks the Red Carpet of Barbcan Hall 10th March 2008
Smiling face she stood on the danger slope
Grasping her innocent kids, her only young hope
Inhuman gales that did ghastly moanest loud
Fictitious pathetic songs and sullen dark clouds
Did not, could not Melina's dream ever drain
She gracefully walked along the red carpet to her gain
Into History her dream n she made her fame
Her descendants be, proud of her dignity and name!
Her journey once again filled with glowing radiance
With the flavor of the sweetest melodious fragrance.
Her two kids and sis she stood that special glorious eve
With cap and gown she faced Princess Ann Majestically.
Create Date: Tuesday, April 20,2010
shirani ibrahim
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Sand Dunes to Barbican Hall March 2010..Once again!
From the Sand Dunes to Barbican Hall London March 2010
Sitting here waiting watching the hands of the clock tick by..
My phone stares at me in silence, and my heart does sigh,
Wake up to a 11th of March, thoughts floats into a worried sphere,
Awaiting the call from a father and my two daughters dear..
Pushing the buttons on my phone to rid of uneasy thoughts.
i heard my angel say 'Mum we just arrived' fears became nought!
I crawl back into my proper senses reaching to God with feelings so divine...
As Nadia soon walks the red carpet of the Barbican Hall with dignity fine!
I look into Melina's convocation photos and my mind pictures Nadi stand,
Her cap and gown hand in hand with her dad and sister in graduation land! ! ! !
The smile on her face wipes away the sadness in my weary face
As This is a parental dream so joyful with honor and profound grace.
Two graduates so deserving, is blessed with a gratifying mind and soul
They stumbled across rugged roads to acheive this educational goal
A greatest blessing a triumph to parents as another dream unfolds
Deluging with happiness my heart reaches out to their adorable hold.
A feeling of inner happiness in my heart and soul makes life complete
With pride i hold back my tears with tissues in hand wow a grand treat! .
Create Date: Saturday, April 17,2010
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Dawns Victory...15 March 2010 Nadi Sameer
As 15th March Dawns...Victoriously 2010
Into slumber i failed to creep with thoughts drowning me.
Tears streaming down as i embrace an ocassion joyously.
Tomorow dawns so slowly and soon it will be alive.
The beginning of something good is about to come alive
Like a gentle breeze drifting in an open window,
i am inspired and ignited by hopes, double the score.
i see a beautiufl glow across the shades of grey,
The taste of success and happiness is here to stay.
Awakened to reality with my heart filled with a pleasant prize.
As My Nadi walks the red carpet with her sis and dad beside!
Create Date: Saturday, April 17,2010
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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From the Land of the Sand Dunes to London 2010
From the Sand Dunes to London...
Sitting here waiting watching the hands of the clock tick by
My phone stares at me in silence as my heart does sigh
Wake up to a 11th of March, thoughts floats into a worried sphere
Awaiting the call from a father and my two daughters dear..
Pushing the buttons on my phone to rid of uneasy thought
i heard my angel say 'Mum we just arrived' fears became nought
I crawl back into my proper senses reaching to God with feelings so divine
As Nadia soon walks the red carpet of the Barbican Hall with dignity fine
I look into Melina's convocation photos and my mind pictures Nadi stand
Her cap and gown hand in hand with her dad and sister in graduation land
The smile on her face wipes away the sadness in my weary face
As This is a parental dream so joyful with honor and profound grace.
Two graduates so deserving, is blessed with a gratifying mind and soul
They stumbled across rugged roads to acheive this educational goal
A greatest blessing a triumph to parents as another dream unfolds
Deluging with happiness my heart reaches out to their adorable hold.
A feeling of inner happiness in my heart and soul makes life complete
With pride i hold back my tears with tissues in hand wow a grand treat! .
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Love..Maketh A Beautiful Mind
Love Makes A Beautiful Mind
True love walks in an unexpected time with no control, no such warning
Flowers the taste of the sweetest fragrance of faith trust and love overflowing
Blossoms with understanding an emotional secret language and so gracefully...
Braves stormy waters with dignity preseving an unstained melody with radiance, flawlessly!
Love has the most beautiful ingredients building wonders of an amazing superstructure...
Over years or decades can never be measured and it will never ever see any fracture.
At a tender age or at a withering stage true love blooms like a dazzling treasure
Embedded with the splendour of beauty a serenity with a sincere heartwarming pleasure
Love sails majestically wearing the crown of honor in its elegant luxurious fleet
A journey paved with silver lining in dark clouds, a comforting cushioned seat.
Create Date: Sunday, April 18,2010
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Rameela Aunty of Lily Avenue Wellawatte.
The angels came and a lovely dignified lady is...sadly gone
Her gentle voice and loving words hear not another morn
Golden memories are silver souvenirs that... will linger on
With a love she shared with grace a strength to move on
The fragrance of faith and love embedded in the hearts
As she spun velvet words deep into her young ones heart
will be missed by many....
Mel Nad Marie...granaunt and great gran aunt
Fazli Sameer paternal aunt.
passed away 9th October 2010
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Tears..A Heart Speaks
A heart is like a reservoir where emotions are stored
With variable level of experiences when so overload
The good the bad the ugly as it gets the taste
The ups downs in life's journey nothing hesitates
Sequence of series, images; a flash of the past
Connects to reaction, considered strangely to last
Interactional rules when emotions are permitted
Banning the out- let outbursts and such restricted
Hurt eyes, no moisture, no hint, no despair, but fear
Stifling all urges to express, ends with the language of tears
The stress in life controlled, no emotional revelations
A toll on the health resulting in physical complications
A secret weapon, those stimulating words, sinks deeper
Intense pain, sadly pushed to be heard, the healer?
As Twilight falls, pins its curtain with a star, to conceal
The stillness at night that slumber can never steal...
The pain, a pillow to share the language that smears.
When the twin rivers overflow, spilling excessive tears!
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Language of the Heart
A heart a reservoir emotions sacredly stored.
The variable level of experiences when overboard..
The good the bad the ugly be it a cocktail taste.
The ups downs in life's journey nothing hesitates..
Sequence of series, images; a flash of the past.
Connects to reaction, considered strangely outcast..
Interactional rules when emotions are permitted.
Banning the outlet outbursts and coldly restricted..
Hurt eyes, no moisture, no hint, no despair, just fear.
Stifling all urges to express the language of tears..
The stress in life controlled, no emotional revelations.
A toll on the health resulting in physical complications..
A secret weapon, stimulating words, exploring deeper.
Intense pain, sadly pushed to be heard, the healer..
The stillness at night, before slumber the spirit steals.
When twilight falls, pins its curtain with a star, to conceal..
The pain and a pillow, to share the language that smears.
Relieved the twin rivers overflow, spilling excessive tears!
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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My brother's bday....and he is gone!
Firoze ibrahim...born 20th Feb 1948....died 13th August 2009
Feelings stirred, my brothers bday dawns, an emptiness felt,
My ageing eyes overflows with a pain that cannot be dealt.
Moving along life's journey, precious thoughts do unfold
Memories of the wondrous days shared, in our hearts we hold.
Days filled with fun, laughter the sweet fragrance of love.
United we walked through trials, a blessings from above.
Those Phone calls, greetings, meetings are all now.. so gone
Sunrise, sunset and non-stop each day do effortlessly dawn.
Clinging to the sweetness and his gentle caring words,
Lessens the pain as his voice with kindness still heard.
Looking back down memory lane I must say I can’t help find,
An unexplainable sad loss in the background of my mind....
20th Feb 2011
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Oh How We Laughed..(Always On My Mind)
Always On My Mind (Oh how we laughed)
Life ‘s journey leads us: but, to our graves!
As the sun humbles itself and leaves
The world.. to darkness and me.
A numbness invades me insensitively.
With many a heartache following me.
My aging eyes and speak able words cease to be,
As I dipped upon the wide silvery greying seas.
Chains and dreams of haunting memories
Like the tidal waves, keeps on bothering m
Leaving traces of many a foot prints and more!
The insensitive waves dashes into the sea shores,
While my life stately ship sails with honor, dignity
Over the rough dark impatient seas so majestically•
Hoping for blue calm waters of serenity
As the journey sees its end unconditionally
To My Two BrothersFirzoe Ibrahim (died 61)
and
Fairuf Ibrahim (died 42)
Create Date: Sunday, April 18,2010
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Until The day I die...My Treasures!
Treasure You Until The Day I Die..
Alone I sit and in sweet silence am filled with thought,
Of my loving brothers whom in troubles I desperately sought.
Memories linger in my heart the happy hours we spent,
Every vacation filled with fragrant smiles removing any dent.
When lost in troubled tides my twin rivers overflow in repent,
And their warmth love and words of wisdom they kindly lent.
Like the ocean waters ends in the pebbled seashore.
And the fast changing days that that come and go as before.
Awaken me to reality that I must justly be contend.
As soon the hands of the clock will hasten the pain to touch an end!
Create Date: Sunday, April 18,2010
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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March of Memories
Left, right - left, right . . .
We march today for memories (the grizzled Digger said)
Memories of lost dreams and comrades gone ahead
Comrades bloody war took, dreams that men have slain
(Left, right - left, right . . .) Not ours to dream again.
There was Shorty Hall and Len Pratt, Long Joe and Blue,
Skeet and Brolga Houlihan, and Fat and me and you:
Bright lads, the old bunch; eager lads and keen
That first day we marched down thro' this familiar scene.
Dreams were ours, and high hopes went with us overseas.
(Left, right - left, right . . . ) And now 'tis memories.
We march again for memories (the grizzled Digger sighed)
Memories of lost mates, of foolish hopes that died.
First, Shorty got his issue on the beach at Sari Bair.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) The vision of him there
Brought the dawn of disillusion. I needed little more
To blood me to the butchery, the filthiness called war.
Shorty, like a limp rag, slung there anyhow,
Sprawling on the warm sand like I can see him now.
Always was a merry mate, a rare lad for fun.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) And Shorty, that was one.
We march today for memories; and they come crowding fast
As each year adds another page to the story of the past.
Pratt went west at Mena Base; raved of home and peace.
(Left, right - left, right . . . ) His was a kind release.
For a Lone Pine shell-burst got him; and he was less than man.
'Twas a sniper's bullet bore the name of Brolga Houlihan.
We called him Happy Houlihan, the man who took a chance.
Then the Reaper paused and plotted for the rest of them in France -
Except Long Joe, the luckless, a youth ill-shaped for war.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) And Long Joe was four.
We march today for memories. Little else had we
When we marched home as veterans. Blue and you and me.
For Skeet went with a night raid, and none came back alive.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) So Skeet, he tallied five.
Five gone and four to fight; us and Blue and Fat,
Who vowed he was too big to hit; but a whizz-bang settled that.
Yet Fat was lucky to the end - an end that held no pain.
All hell erupted where he stood; and none saw him again.
And Blue marched, and you marched, and I, a war-torn three.
(Left. right - left, right . . . ) Marched with memory.
We march again with memories (the grizzled Digger spake)
One year? Ten years? How soon shall we awake
To glorious reality? For lately it would seem -
(Left, right - left, right . . .) - we march within a dream.
Where Shorty is, and Blue is, and Happy Houlihan,
That seems the only real land, with rest for weary man.
For Blue went out three years ago; and cruel slow to kill
Was the war-god, the grim god who claims victims still.
But you and I, old Digger friend, will soon march with the rest.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) In the Army of the West!
Today we march with memories, and years dull the pain.
But God help the young 'uns, mate, if they must march again,
(Left, right - left, right . . .) For the young must ever dream.
But we march with memories, and ghosts go at our side -
Len Pratt and Long Joe, whom men say have died.
And you walk like a ghost, mate; you do not turn to hear.
Or is it - Did the boys say you passed last year?
Out of this tangled dreaming has your troubled spirit flown?
(Left, right - left, right . . .) And I march alone.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Journey..From great grandparents to grandchildren
Numerous are such blessing don't know exactly where to start
They have left their heart prints deeply embedded in my heart
As I look back into my childhood many a tender moments do replay
They are so unique and precious, much more than spoken words can say
Their concern kindness understanding, a blessing from God above,
A strength indeed, in life's journey the sweetest fragrance of love
Through good times and the bad times that can never ever be measured
They do appear in the form of angels, and that is the best to be treasured
When the going was tough and into depressive moods I almost did drown
Many a teardropp they did wipe away to smile away that many a frown
Now my kids grandkids traveled the world over they loved them, the same
Their gentle hands help them as useful citizens to step into the hall of fame
Children and Grandchildren they are riches, blessings from above and more
Hearts did not fail them courage did not desert them to their goal they did go
Stumbling thro collectively, individually, braving the calamity every sunrise
Tired and weary awaiting their return hopefully to see their sparkling eyes
Melina Nadi Firasa Marie and Abdullah the wonders of the Amazing you
God Almighty shower his blessings today and all through life's journey too
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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The Emotional Waves and the Friendly Shore
The waves and the shore, friends forever more
No reservations uncondtional the fragrance ever more
Through misty eyed a vision did not lack
to reach to a friendly hand that did not slack
As the clouds chariotted many passing storms
The skies spoke a lanugage in distorted forms
A miraculous light touched the days that strayed
When a priceless presence in words gently swayed
Many thoughts into a kind heart did gradually melt
To brave the world a strength and a guidance felt
like the wave rushing to the sandy sea shore
multi colored expression of feelings it did roar
And friends keep running in sorrow to each other
With a sincere love unconditional like no other.....
sharing the deepest dark secrets as friends understand
And the heart now rests with happiness in wonderland.
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Death Has No Control, Love Has No Boundaries
Death has no control over the boundaries of love
(a special couple)
It will always and forever be,
as long as there is a heart in thee.
Visions of a loss, is all that one will
melancholy and constantly see.
Wherever the wide oceans
meet the blue vast sky.
Echoing memories will be a-glow,
That none cannot escape nor deny
As the weeping twin rivers
overflow down a desperate soul.
A question unspeakable
Is it really the hands of death that stole?
Or were it a hand picked
Bouquet from the angels from above?
To enter the gates of
Heaven and be showered with never ending love!
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Ides of March
The Ides of March come.
Seven days preceding the 15th day
Of every other month.
What significance did the Romans give this?
And 'why' is the 13th of October their 'ides'?
Outside of poetic expression,
What value does 'ides' have?
And whose ides come to visit you and when?
Will they be in March, May, or July?
And then...
Will you notice them?
My mother use to say,
When I was a child and extremely naïve...
'The Ides of March will soon be upon you.'
I thought she meant 'eyes'!
Needless to say,
I was glad when March came and went away!
Not realizing then...
Every other month from March also had 'ides'.
I still want to know,
What importance do these 'ides' have and why?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Disturbed waves and the shore
Disturbed waves and the shore
A younger hand reaches out so tenderly
When an older hand trembles feebly
Though misty eyed a vision not quite black
Reaching out for help and no more sack
The clouds chariotted many passing storms
The skies spoke a language in distorted forms
A miraculous light touched days that strayed
When a priceless presence in words swayed
Many thoughts into a kind heart gradually did flow
To brave the world a strength did restore
Expressions of variable feelings it did roar
Emotional waves keep gushing to the sea shore
A serenity to relax when the tides are high
Disturbed waves rise above with a heavy sigh
With a sincere love unconditional like no other.....
Dashing many a sorrow when it becomes a bother
Sharing deep secrets as a friend will understand
The heart rests with tranquility in wonderland.
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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No More' Brothers..Firoze and Fairuf 31st Dec1996 13th Aug 2011
Firoze and Fairuf Ibrahim....'no more'
As the sun lays its tired head on its pillow the sea
Daylight fades and leaves the world to darkness to me
Memories, of their spoken soft words lingers in my heart
As my misty eyes helplessly watch them sadly depart
Slipping beneath me like the waves and the sea sand
Filled with unspeakable pain something I don’t understand
From the rocks I gaze across the wide open seas uncertain floor
Hoping for no more shocks and heartaches by the score
Sometimes the deep oceans water glistens so crystal clear
How I wish life will be full of sparkling silvery waters to cheer
But like the changing tide of the much needed ocean
I keep rowing on with many a confused ocean of emotions.
As my loving brothers make their sudden exit
I create a new morrow as long as my journey exist
Create Date: Sunday, April 18,2010
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Abdulla and his Mum...
As his mum lays asleep with fever he realizes he must not her awake
Walks around with blisters in his heart wondering what he could take
As his usual milk juice egg was not on the table which she normally lay.
He then rests a tender kiss on her cheek he whispers not what he want to say.
Eyes full of worry and fear he voiced ‘my mum' must get well real soon.
A feeling of guilt invaded me, as he stopped looked the kitchen all around.
An un.derstanding a smile as words concerend escaped for her health be sound
Carried his bag, a comfort kiss on my cheek with his alright biggy I will manage.
the beauty of his heart wet my cheeks just a boy of 15 but not a terrible teenage.
I looked up and a thankful prayer in my heart for this wonderful prize
Boy man in him the fragrance of sweetness he spoke though his silent heart cries.
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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March
Were I young again
and the month of March
were upon me
I'd skip down the road,
do a march to March,
sing a tune to March
dance a dance to March,
risk a prance to March,
strut and grind and do
a break dance to March.
Hop, skip and jump to March,
just like a the girl I used to be,
once upon a time in March,
when my cheeks had high colour
and my hopes were high.
poem by Ruth Walters
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