Give My Greetings To My Amazing God

In fields of sunflowers, where she roams freely,
A lady with flowing hair stands in awe,
Plucking cotton delicately from the earth,
Cradling it in her pure palm.

With a gentle breath, the cotton takes flight,
A dance of white against the sky.

Her voice carries through the fields,
Singing praises to the heavens above,
"Oh, cotton, you resemble an antique woman,
With silvery tresses, bring my greetings
To my beloved God," she serenades with passion.

Sunflowers sway in harmony,
Their vibrant petals *join* the dance.

In her own crafted stanza, she reaches for the sky,
Arms outstretched, twirling in graceful rhythm.

"Give my greetings to my exceptional God,
The one who loves and cares for eternity.
I am grateful for the pain that shaped me,
Into an artist, for the challenging days and nights,
That birthed a brand new life within me."

Tears blend with smiles, a testament to the journey she's embraced.
"Oh, my extraordinary God, you have granted me the power of prayer,
Ignited the fire of passion within me,
And blessed me with a mind and body that are forever grateful.
Give my greetings to my great God,
The one who embraces all, regardless of mistakes or skin type,
Always present in the nights and days."






I'm a sword

I am a sword for the tyrant
My role is to fight for justice
against all poverty and suffering
Some find it difficult to explain my existence

People judge me by my beaming smile
My interesting outfit will be looked at for a while
They don't know the struggles I face
Pain beneath my grace

Others despise me and hate me with joy
But they don't know what drives my practice
I'm not just a pretty face
I have a purpose, a reason to embrace it

I pretend to be happy, I pretend to be strong
But deep down, my heart is not in that song
And I bear the burden of the oppressed
My own pain, I have to suppress

I don't want to hurt my loved ones
So I pretend and hide the negative truth
I just shed tears before God
Because only he knows my pain and my love

He understands when others do not
He comforts me when I feel alone
He gives me the strength to keep going
And fight for the oppressed

I am a sword, a weapon for good
 however, misunderstood
I will continue my fight, my mission
To bring justice and end discrimination.





Anila Bukhari emerges as a luminous thread, in the legacy of Pakistan, weaving tales of empowerment. A beacon of hope in a world shrouded by adversity, she stands as the epitome of courage and conviction, etching her mark on the annals of history.

Anila, daughter of the nation, embodies the essence of strength and purpose. From the tender age of ten, she wielded the pen as her sword, crafting prose infused with the fervor of change. In a society veiled by patriarchal norms, she dared to challenge the status quo, amplifying the voices of the marginalized and disenfranchised.

With each stroke of her pen, she painted portraits of courage and defiance, shedding light on the harrowing realities of child marriage, forced unions, and the plight of the orphaned. Through her literary opuses, such as "No More Tears" and "Whispers of the Heart," she wove a tapestry of awareness, igniting conversations that reverberated across continents.

But her journey transcends the field of literature; she is an example of activism, a harbinger of change. At the tender age of fourteen, she started on a crusade for peace, dedicating eight years of her life to the noble cause. Her efforts culminated in international acclaim, as she was bestowed with the prestigious International Excellence Community Service Award, a testament to her unwavering commitment to humanity.

Anila's endeavors extend beyond the written word; she is a catalyst for action, a catalyst for change. Through her initiative, "No More Brides, Just Shine," she waged war against the scourge of child marriage, mobilizing communities and igniting a spark of hope in the hearts of the oppressed. From organizing speech competitions to spearheading educational campaigns, she left an indelible mark on the landscape of advocacy.

Yet, amidst her tireless crusade, she remains grounded in compassion, extending a helping hand to those in need. Through her project, "Hopeful Hugs," she brings solace to homeless children and solace to cancer patients, embodying the true essence of altruism.

Anila Bukhari, a visionary in her own right, is not merely a writer or an activist; she is a testament to the indomitable spirit of the human soul. Inspired by the timeless wisdom of Rumi, Maya Angelou, and Khalil Gibran, she dreams of a world emancipated from the shackles of injustice, where every girl can aspire to greatness.

In the hallowed halls of art galleries in the USA, Florida, and the Philippines, her verses adorn the walls, a testament to her transcendent talent. Her words resonate in the hearts of millions, a clarion call for change in a world yearning for transformation.

In her, we find the embodiment of beauty with brains, intellect, and compassion—a true luminary whose brilliance knows no bounds. Anila Bukhari, the daughter of the nation, a force to be reckoned with, and a guiding light of hope for generations to come.

Regarding the How 


As soon as

He got

To know her, 

He felt

Increasingly certain

That she

Would change everything,

Turns out

He was right

About the what,

Regarding the how,

He ended up

Being really wrong.




Taylor Dibbert is a writer, journalist, and poet in Washington, DC. “In the Arena,” his third full-length poetry collection, is due out in April.

Contact


 I forgot what a kiss is The taste of an afternoon coffee.
So as the waves pulled from the land, I feel like a desert ship.

Contact I forgot what that word means, Shipwreck for months In books I look for a meaning to embrace me, to tell me everything will be fine ..
 To go and leave those roses in my father's memory, To light a candle to the Virgin Mary.

Contact, To be in your dream hug Let me see your eyes To smell your perfume I'm looking for that word in that old dictionary



Forgiveness


A word that is coming out from the brave heart

I am not asking to forgive as a Human

I am asking to forgive as a God
As HE has the kindness and the generosity to see the human's mistake.

I am asking to forgive not a as a man
But as An Angel that every day and night 
Is traveling from Earth to sky....

I don't need any paper
Green or blue

I saw  your heart
You had it there in front of me...
I understand that silence
That silver silence

I am damned in sky and earth...
I am just a soul traveling alone..

Seeking for forgiveness.....

(Five igneous reddish brown stones lined up in a horizontal line. Last one is bigger)

(Same five stones, covered at the bottom with translucent gauze)

(Stones all covered with the gauze)

The Toast


The problem with being a failure is you don’t get to stop.

You’ve got to get up every day and have the toast laugh at you.

And worse you have to make that toast.

Carve your name in it with a hot poker.

That isn’t hot.

Carve your name in it with a lukewarm poker.

Then eat the name which tastes like rubbery chicken.

And go out with that chicken in your throat squawking.

You’ve got to live with that every day.

And get up and try to get the giant stone monolith to make you toast.

It won’t but you keep asking.

More about Surrealist artist Alfred Jarry here.