Poetry

Muse

"How do I make you understand,

What falling means, for eternity?"

Said the grand rapids,

To the poet,

Who is born each day at the peak

Of a yellow mountain, who

Eats the sun, 

Confining an ocean in a fist full

Of snow, lords over wanderlust,

Shepherds the quizzical mists.

To the fall,

Who is born each time cradled in words

Of a lover, a devotee of sorts, traced in

Infatuated, flickering rhymes,

Teetering faith, sulking over seasons,

Then ends devotion, anchored by

The lips of a stormy eyed maiden, 

A fertile womb, tussling in 

The rainbow sault,

Day and night, day and night.

Nostalgia

a kiss lips locked on lips

longing of a mist

texture of the touch

as if finger tips 

dredging the stardust

in the belly of a comet

few words borrowed 

mundane like love and love

fits the puzzle unequivocally

and I wish just once in this life

a kiss would be a kiss and it will

live in a moment of shy retreat

Sabrina Binte Masud is a regional winner for the international BBC radio drama competition and a Fulbright scholar. She is also the coordinator of creative writing groups called Brine Pickles and Golpo-Kotha.