Free-verse (doesn't rhyme)
Grey old day
By Abu Khattab
Swarming towards me like bees to a hive,
Their colour of grey a familiar colour.
Heavy and sluggish with my watery demise,
They begin to open up all over me.
The path beneath me records my steps,
Of where I've been and to what I've seen.
The rain begins to leave it's mark,
On a heart of sorrow - a heart that bleeds.
Why does it always rain on me?
Puddles are formed right in front of me.
The world ready to drown my soul,
And for what I ask? Inform me please.
Step after step I kick the water,
I look at the houses and I see some people.
Sheltered happily from the rain that falls,
So I ask again why does it rain on me?
Broken hearts and a broken spirit,
Broken dreams like the breaking of water.
Leaving ripples within my life,
Like a tide in the ocean controlled by the moon.
My thin coat soaked in my tangible demise,
I try to grab the rain that falls from above.
Slipping in between my crippled fingers,
Right onto the ground to fill the puddles.
The world ready to drown my soul,
Obstacles evident all around my body.
Where is my shelter or do I not deserve it?
The rain that falls is indeed too cold.
The droplets falling down on my face,
Streaming down my scar riddled cheeks.
Do I close my eyes and look away?
Or face it with certainty and continue to walk?
I go to the house that is full of people,
"May I enter your house to avoid this rain?"
"Indeed we have no control over this shelter,
But ask the One Who has provided it for us."
"Who might that be?" I ask naively,
"Who will shelter me from all this rain?"
"Look above and ask His permission,
To enter His mercy" is what they reply.
Drip, drop the rain still falls,
The people look on and then close their blinds.
Drip, drop the rain still falls,
I walk away with my head slumped down.
The puddles increasing all around my path,
My shoes barely dodging the splashes of water.
The curb I see on the edge of my path,
I take my seat as the rain still pours.
Droplets trickling from the tips of my hair,
Down my face and down my eyes.
The crashing sounds of the rain on my coat,
Deafen my soul from hearing His call.
My head slumped down resting on my knees,
Alone on the curb not knowing where to go.
But that is a lie for my heart is guiding me,
So why O why wouldn't I listen to it?
I long for some shelter but will I ever gain it?
I ask you my Lord to enrich me with keys.
To unlock the door to the sheltered house,
And allow for this grey old day to pass.
Grey old day
By Abu Khattab
Swarming towards me like bees to a hive,
Their colour of grey a familiar colour.
Heavy and sluggish with my watery demise,
They begin to open up all over me.
The path beneath me records my steps,
Of where I've been and to what I've seen.
The rain begins to leave it's mark,
On a heart of sorrow - a heart that bleeds.
Why does it always rain on me?
Puddles are formed right in front of me.
The world ready to drown my soul,
And for what I ask? Inform me please.
Step after step I kick the water,
I look at the houses and I see some people.
Sheltered happily from the rain that falls,
So I ask again why does it rain on me?
Broken hearts and a broken spirit,
Broken dreams like the breaking of water.
Leaving ripples within my life,
Like a tide in the ocean controlled by the moon.
My thin coat soaked in my tangible demise,
I try to grab the rain that falls from above.
Slipping in between my crippled fingers,
Right onto the ground to fill the puddles.
The world ready to drown my soul,
Obstacles evident all around my body.
Where is my shelter or do I not deserve it?
The rain that falls is indeed too cold.
The droplets falling down on my face,
Streaming down my scar riddled cheeks.
Do I close my eyes and look away?
Or face it with certainty and continue to walk?
I go to the house that is full of people,
"May I enter your house to avoid this rain?"
"Indeed we have no control over this shelter,
But ask the One Who has provided it for us."
"Who might that be?" I ask naively,
"Who will shelter me from all this rain?"
"Look above and ask His permission,
To enter His mercy" is what they reply.
Drip, drop the rain still falls,
The people look on and then close their blinds.
Drip, drop the rain still falls,
I walk away with my head slumped down.
The puddles increasing all around my path,
My shoes barely dodging the splashes of water.
The curb I see on the edge of my path,
I take my seat as the rain still pours.
Droplets trickling from the tips of my hair,
Down my face and down my eyes.
The crashing sounds of the rain on my coat,
Deafen my soul from hearing His call.
My head slumped down resting on my knees,
Alone on the curb not knowing where to go.
But that is a lie for my heart is guiding me,
So why O why wouldn't I listen to it?
I long for some shelter but will I ever gain it?
I ask you my Lord to enrich me with keys.
To unlock the door to the sheltered house,
And allow for this grey old day to pass.