Known Stranger by Wardha Jawdat (free children's ebooks online .txt) 📖

Index

Page....Content

9..........Known Stranger
11........Ever-changing Time
13........Nirvana
14........Unfinished Fairytale
16........An Ode: To My Lost Soul
19........Candles
21........Of Wind And Gypsies
23........What I am
25........Faded
28........The Lighthouse
30........Amour
33........Love Thyself
35........"Love Till We Die?"
37........The Vigil
39........Dear, Dear Father!
41........Fields of Stone
43........Message Upon An Angel's Wing

Index continued

45........Saints Don't Live Here Anymore
46........To Ignore a Silence
47........What Love Costs
48........Raven Black
49........Annotations

Books by Wardha Jawdat

Poetry
Shades Of Grey
Known Stranger

Fiction & Writings
A Summer in Black
Writing by Numbers

Short Stories
Kat & Sable

Folk Tales
Enchanted Lake

*
*
*


To my husband,
the man who tolerates me so well,
my love!

W.J.

*
*
*

Known Stranger

You sleep next to me every night,
yet you've never heard me weep.
You lie with me in the warmth of my bed,
yet you've never felt the heat.
Of that silent, smoldering anger,
I nurse to numbness each eve.


We, partners of flesh,
have never partnered souls;
and I've often lusted,
treacherously, desired more.
O sworn accomplice!
In all, but what is real,
O my betrothed!
in life and the hereafter,
I lie staring at your back,
each night, after you've slumbered,
and my frustrations sting my soul,
the tears flow, unencumbered.

Will you ever awaken to my presence?
I often silently wonder,
or will this be my penance
for trusting love,
to a stranger.


*
*
*

Ever-changing Time

The arm holes stare,
Like dumb gaping wounds,
At the passersby.
The single eye painted
With thick, heidi lashes,
looks, disturbingly, unquestioning.


The once pretty pink ribbons,
Now frayed and threaded,
The waxen curls glistening, like
Tar caked upon her forehead,
Her pretty booties,
Once, maybe, were pink.


She was loved once,
She was adored once,
She was coveted once,
Till age ravaged her bloom,
And, a new passion
supplanted her.


*
*
*

Nirvana

Come to me,
I am shattered.


Collect me in your palm.
Put me together again,
Piece by piece,
As you wish me to be.
Assemble me to your advantage,
Bend me to your will.
For I, have no voice anymore,
I have no soul any longer,
I am , but a caricature,
Of the 'Me'

I once was.


Shall I say I'm blessed?
For people drug themselves
to feel the nirvana,
I live and drown in each day.

Unfinished Fairytale

Few moments before the snug,
“Happily ever after” was to begin.
The Clock of compromise ticked a bit faster,
And then, like a candle extinguished,
Went silent,
More in dereliction, than ennui.


Beyond the last bend of this fairy tale,
Where the princess is never to be awakened
By a kiss, and where, the magic trolls
Are forever weaving webs of deceit.
There, lying spent upon a pyre,
Is our 'True love'
With 'happily ever after'
Held nestled in death, upon his breast.


Tales, lying unfinished and untold,
Like seeds, unsprouted,
Like wombs, barren.


So we are
Cobweb bejeweled,
A love, born blue
Never breathed true.


*
*
*


An Ode: To My Lost Soul

- i -

The past peers at me,
Through the brittle glass of every window,
Strange sensations curl themselves,
Up, against my insides.
I recognize your accusing face,
The hurt, the bitterness,
And, I feel the old pain
That reminds me,
Of the heart,
That I thought I stoned long ago.


- ii -

Suddenly, every window becomes a mirror,
Which reflects you back to me:
Your love,
Your faith,
Your loyalty,
Your sacrifices,
Your truths,
All your many virtues.


- iii -

I turn away from this vista,
This sad parade of a bad choice,
And pass a real mirror,
Which yells, 'Infidel!'
And I arrest my step,
Can't seem to run away from it,
Though, I've had enough time to try.
I see me, in all my splendid
Ugliness,
All my splendid
Deceit,
All my splendid
Deviltry,
And I know, you couldn’t have saved me
Even though you did try.


- iv -

I am of those lost souls,
Who lose home
even though,
They see, within reach,
The white picket fence,
And the pretty red wooden door.


*
*
*


Candles

I dreamt of candles;
Shimmering, dainty,
Romantic candles.
All aglow, lighting my path,
Melting away, longingly.
Velvet, ivory wax,
Licking the soft soles of my feet...


You came home to me,
with diamonds and roses.


I dreamt of candles,
Ablaze, threating,
Ominous candles.
All, licking hungrily, at my clothes,
Wanting to consume me,
Make me one with them,
A charred cinder...

You told me of her,
with acerbic finality.


I dreamt of candles,
Silent, suffering,
Persevering candles.
All burning, no longer a pretty yellow,
Just icy blue,
Plotting with precision,
To set the stage on fire...


You called me, repentent,
I answered, with laughter.


*
*
*


Of Wind And Gypsies

Let's skip,
and trip,
to the rhythm of the wind.
Let's dance,
and invite in,
the tantalizing romance.


The Sun's hidden it's proud face
Behind veils of cloud,
And, me thinks it smirks testily,
As we lovers romp about.
What is it about truculent winds,
And water laden cloud,
That ignites a childlike passion,
Within and without?


I want to wear red,
I want to line my eyes with Kohl,
I want to leave my hair wild,
And hauntingly long.


The gypsy in me,
Will out today,
And the lover I beckon,
Will be mine today.
The winds will carry my scent,
To his soul,
And the clouds will rain my spell,
Upon him whole.


I shall dance around in puddles,
With my skirts up to my knees.
I shall sing, I shall laugh,
I shall be, dangerously, ME!

*


What I Am

I am like wine,
Dark in the eye,
Mysterious in brew,
Rich in aroma,
And blood-red in hue.


I am like wine,
Spiced with lime ,
Sweetened by time,
And aged lovingly,
In warm clime.


I am like wine,
Warming body and mind,
Setting flames alight,
In your pulse
And your eye.


I am like wine,
I entice,I delight.


I am like wine,
I whet the appetite.


I am like wine,
I drown, I ignite.


I am like wine,
With age, I refine.


*
*
*


Faded

In an old book,

Pressed,
Between
Pages of arrogant print;
Lies,

An autumned memory,
A faded scent of you,
A rainbow, washed free
Of all the reds and the blues,
Holding on, for dear life,
To one yellow haunted hue,
Of tired, forgotten want.

You date back to 1992,
And the veins of the petals
Upon this rose you once gave me,
Criss cross, across the chasm of
A decade and more,
As dignified in their geography,
As those of a white knight,
Aged through scores of battles
Against time and treachery,
Upon every shore.

Your name survives upon the petal,
The ink, held captive,
Arrested by the magnetism,
Of that romance,
Which, once swept over a summer,
And wept through an autumn.
My heart whispers your name,
Ever so softly, as though afraid,
A breath even would scare away,
The soft scented cloud of your memory,
This windy, sunlit day.

You are the sweet secret between
My heart and my mind
As they lay whispering like two
Gold haired sisters
Upon summer beds of soft cotton
Deliciously reliving each look
Each word, each smile,each care.
A smile steals across my face
As I remember your impassioned
Embrace, the fevered confessions,
the heated, arrogant exchange!

You are a whisper in my soul,
A hint of what can be lost,
How much can love hurt,
And how long grief takes to pass;
You are a whisper in my soul,
Of romance gone,
Of youth turned old,
Of fantasy fled,
And sweet nothings spent,
And love lost,
An age ago!

*
*


The Lighthouse

The waves threatening,
The darkness brilliant black,
The vacuum so real;
I felt,utterly, soulless.


To drown would have been easy,
It was the battle that haunted,
But my limbs were weak, hopes bleak,
And surrender looked, Oh, so sweet!


And then, the lamb like ray found me,
And it's tender light shook me,
Out of my deathlike trance,
Re-igniting the spark of lifes' romance.


Will I make it?
Will new hope find me?
Will I weather this storm?

I know not,
But this:


I will fight,
I will not surrender life,
To these demons of your trechery,
to the plague of your spite.


I will not surrender to you
My tomorrow,
Till I have lived it, to the best,
Today.


*
*
*


Amour

I miss you,
I can say it now,
To the walls of this lonely room,
To myself,
As long as, I don't name you.


There are days when I can live,
As though we never were,
And then there are days,
When I am, crippled by deja' vu,
And I breathe the rosary of:
I miss you,


You called me Beautiful

,
When I never knew,
The import of the praise;
You called me Goddess

,
When I fumbled with my form,


And knew not, what it meant.
You knew me,
Even when I struggled,
To discover,
My disillusioned self.
And then, I lost you.
Only to discover thence,
That Beautiful

was the most
Valued word in the lexicon
Of love.
And Goddess

was the most coveted title,
In its ethereal kingdom.


I've lost you and decorum demands,
That I utter 'come hither' no more,
I've lost you and dignity dictates,
That I 'covet' you no more;


I've lost you and found,
That I can't whisper your name,
Even to give title to my,
Unfinished fairy tales,
And so, shall you remain,
Forever, my secret: Amour.


*
*
*


Love Thyself

Couldn't live with the pain,
So I thought I'd drown it in the sea,
already pregnant with generations of pain.
Walked into the depths,
of God's azure water bed,
Feeling the kind sand shifting,
Under my desolate tread.


I paused for just a moment,
Questioned by the winds,
Was I truly ready for death...when,
There was so much to learn yet?
So much I should have said,
So many unfinished rhymes,
Yet, bits of 'me' left to find...


'Is your grief really so magnificent,
That to it my life should genuflect,
Its torturous