What a Sunrise!

Isn't it wonderful just to look up at the sunrise on those early mornings? There is something particularly special about the Irish sunrise, for a country whose cloud cover is usually considered a disadvantage, in the early mornings it binds eyes to it thanks to light refraction through clouds.

This light trick speaks to the soul. Alhamdulillah

Light Tricks

To crack the whip of wariness would be wrong,
To spoil the stupor of my weariness so drowsy and long
Kept fired by high hung desires and ambitions,
The celestial bench carries out its mission
A task of which holds my eyes on weakening stilts,
Shouldering a world of exhaustion and pointless guilts.

Streaked on my pupil, linear and perfect,
A runway of power for avians of peace
Distant to my soul surrounding it, with no defect
My eyes caress the tangy hue with greed,
Oh! To sit high on the sledge of the sky now,
Would lift and free my back for happiness to seed.

I lust for the touch of light beams just for an instant.
To touch infinity itself a request I lament
For its utter divinity held out from crinkling fingers,
To hold an image over the rumble that lingers,
Mechanical wheels growl under the lines of citrus wonder,
Its kiss on my face just leaves me under.

To grope and cling to light's eternity would be a blessing,
To unhinge, drop and leave it would be best,
To dream only; is my defect, I feel it by the glow so perfect.

I feel miserable!

It is a terrible, crushing feeling when one makes someone you care about angry by your own actions. It is not like it is even intentional, it just happens. Things are said which are unnecessary and I just wish I could suck my words back down my throat. I do this all the time. It shows my weakness as a person. Just getting angry never helps, I bring mountains of pain on myself. I wrote this as an outlet is all. Its badly written but its my best for what I am up for now.

Pitiful Me

I have no friends, I sit straight back to the window,
Ears pricked to joyful chatter, I sit sidelined and low,
Cringe my chin in pain, I long for a change
A failed fantasy, let me redo for a chance:

To break from the wake of staleness,
Take my spirit from illness,
I see holes in my mind, burning me like lime
For long hours with endless time.

A bell from my chest, groaps me down,
The pressure under my cheeks,
Burning in a furness of coldness!
Flailing pain without boldness.

It is simple I think, I am over my brink,
The gap widens, snaps one last support: I sink,
My precious answered prayer slips away
No fault but my own, crushes me today.

If the world where like her?

This is the second poem I have written in my life, I composed this approximately a year ago and have never let anyone read it. It was based on a period of time in which I was extremely depressed and lonely and this friend of mine was very supportive.
Things have happened in the past and I am no longer friendly with this person and when I found this poem it made me question what I would do if I ever fell into depression's clutches again?

It is very simple but it has a year and a halfs worth of frustration inside it.Enjoy. Salaam!

Sitting back in misery’s remission,
Seeing nothing but depression’s bleak vision.
Riding on the chilly wind, through the window ajar,
A voice sweet toned as light, billowing in from afar,
The sound so reviving, start happiness thriving,
The notes as soft and radiant as angel fur,
Why cannot everyone be a little more like her?

Cringing against decension,
Threatening to hurl myself into another sombre session,
The ringing phone, the utter of my name,
Blows off misery's shield, empowered by her caring flame.
I blurr to the receiver, aching to hear her,
Her voice like a knell with the softest whir,
All who bystand aspire to be more like her,

Her vibrant interruption, caused the much craved disruption,
To break the monotonous low,
The seeds of my mirth her voice had sown, I and the the gusts had known,
I would never be alone.
Lyrical words spun toward the smile I long last did join,
A fearsome army, engaged sadness of all forms,
Callapsed the walls of tears, instantly erased all my fears,
When I know nothing but poor,
Onlookers gaze and ponder on; how to be a little more like her?