Matab's Art---Forum of expression

shall I name your winding stars one by one till healed the scars shall I count each ticking planck Till next my eyes have you to thank lovers of the stars and lands wish not to change hearts by their hands but for the ears to sway and take what took the trembling hands to make if not but read these lines so quick and smile for length a Planck to stick My words had purpose of reveal a poem...for you to simply feel

Don't be deceived  to think the canvas shows the secrets that  only the paint palette knows no trust should be placed on soft brush strokes smeared and scraped  under ill-tempered hands search for sentiments  only the paint pallete understands much thought and scheme made this canvas be masking the true intent  only the paint palette can see

like water on a still day  you ever-so-slightly sway waiting for the fragile leaf to quiver your gentle way drops that tirelessly drum  only to merge with you as one make way for the gale on which sentiments sail waiting for the strong to succumb

A husk of hay buried beneath too light to weigh this golden sheath I found the strand that made me weep with the hearts command I placed it deep too fragile to clutch too temporal to sustain internalizing its touch outweighed feeling its grain

PROCRASTINATION, MY DISEASE She throws a soft blanket on me when there's work to be done warms me up and lays me down in a web of excuses she spun When my alarm goes off She quickly hits the "snooze" tucks me in then whispers, sleep is all you'll lose Whenever I am overwhelmed She is always there to make me forget my to-do's and live NOW without a care I thought she was there to save me and help me through the rough but time and time again She proved herself a bluff "Tomorrow" is her favorite word But when tomorrow's here Procrastination, my disease, is quick to disappear

SNAIL VS EMAiL snail vs. email tortoise vs. hare technology... is just another snare email me, text me, give me a call in my memory it won't install I want a letter the old fashioned kind inscribed on paper, inscribed in mind I want a letter that I can clutch cuz you can't smell texts and feel an email much So write it up WITH A PEN sign it and fold it and THEN : lick it, stamp it give it to the snail and I promise you your letter WILL prevail ^_^

A trap, it's set and this I know But still its there, A dressed up foe I do not stare, IT stares at me and shines in light for all to see Beware of red Nature's sign To back away While there's still time But sense of time has disappeared and still it's there just like I feared ~

~ in every curl that sweeps the shore lies a memory to restore ~ with every intense crash of a wave lies a time to relish and crave ~ in each sparkle of reflecting light is a faded dream aching to reignite ~ in each frothy bubble clinging to sand pops a tear, not wanted not planned ~ rolling water, of shy waves glide hinting at secrets, only nature can hide ~

Writer's Block Blank paper, how you nerve me so Ink that only yearns to show A scribble, a dot, a concrete thought It's what my nimble fingers sought. A word, a sentence, a one-of-a-kind A line, a runway for my mind An empty space, a chance to express Memories, confessions, and thoughts of distress O edgy letters, and soft-spoken words Fill up this blank paper and ease my nerves.

Color Me Red, Autumn ~ ~ Color me red and tickle my sight Let your leaves shed accents of sunrise light ~ Dance leaves dance and embrace the breeze Boast the seasons prance of the shedding trees ~ O rooted mother let your little ones go Next years another new season, new show ~ Orange burnt , Yellow bold a warning, for the next season of bitter cold and snowflake fest

The Unfinished Poem Called Senioritis - By Matab Brahimi This poem is dedicated to the following: To all of you out there, Who, sometime around December, Something plagued their lives And they're too lazy to remember To those who cringe From the word procrastination And wake up at two p.m. Because sleep is their salvation To all those naggers Who drag their feet and say, "What homework?...oh that, I'll do it some other day..." This is for those who promise To get things done And instead shrug it off Because "it's not fun" This is for those slackers who just heard The paper is due Who see it in their agenda everyday, Yet they had "no clue" For those up all night Staring at a computer screen Typing up that report while gulping down gallons of caffeine This is for you seniors Who hit snooze countless times (uhh...I'm just writing this So it rhymes) This is for... (The author of this poem Is taking a br...