A Writer’s Letter Goodbye

Taking my dreams and putting them away.
Emotions plead; rest is what I need.
My mind has softened with all this wordplay.
The little workers inside my head are frenzied;
feeling need to spend time with families instead
Takes a lot effort not to have my intentions misread
My production has been done with a serious face.
The good I have achieve I don’t want to debase.
However, a few lines in explanation won’t hurt.
Don’t want anybody to say I left without a trace.
I take pride that I send my words out doing a sashay
and command them, in the end, to be sure they curtsied.
On their lapel and backs, I check for clichés.
Despite demand, always required another proofread.
Even then, errors are found widespread.
therefore, my efforts to be candid were stymied.
Worse or all, I am seen as a braincase.
Now when I write, I can’t stop using the backspace.
With this admission, further damage I hope to divert.
Don’t want anybody to say I left without a trace.
My adult life has always been somewhat blase.
Out of fear, I faced each given day with much heed.
Otherwise, I felt like my next moment would be doomsday.
Those free from the shackles of feelings like these I envied.
Sadly, feeling like this is how I was bred.
yes, lacking in many areas but the fine art of fear I’m purebred.
My pedigree makes me encased in disgrace.
Don’t remember when I was not looking for a crawl space.
With words, I hoped my fears I could finally erase.
Sadly, I learned my fear was so grimy I can not culvert.
Don’t want anybody to say I left without a trace.

Praise! For the Gift of Writing

I started a poem today
today I wanted to give you praise
praise for all you give
give to those in need of aid
aid you only are able to give
I started a poem today
today I was ashamed
ashamed the praise that was my intention
intention turned to questions about your aid
aid you only are able to give
I started a poem today
today I threw it away
away I wanted to run
run in shame from your aid
aid you only are able to give
I started a poem today
today I wrote what was in my heart
heart was full of pain
pain from being in need for your constant aid
aid you only are able to give
I started a poem today
today I am humbled
humbled by the gift you gave
gave as a way to give aid
aid you only are able to give

Mushroom Hunting

I miss mushroom hunting. It is a good memory of my past. Not many moments can I classify as a blast. The memory of doing this is a blessing.Finding a large patch was reason for bragging. Your bag of findings were ate up fast. I miss mushroom hunting. It is a good memory of my my past. Finding prime spots may have required climbing, and I commited a crime when I trespassed. However, these wonderful moments in my mind last. I miss mushroom hunting.http://thegreatmorel.com/images/naturefront.jpg

Gifts of Light



each moment

vibrant color

designed to fright

designed to delight

Either way, be enlightened

to what you have hidden inside.

Never be ashamed of what you find

in each gifted precious moments of life.

Sadly, it’s an all too common occurrence

for many life’s gifts to go unwrapped.

People tragically left in the dark.

Never aware light given,

is right there before them

if they do their part.

A wasted life,

black and white

life is


Woman! Love thy self.

I wrote “Known But Never Seen (A Love Story)  https://billieazahir.wordpress.com/2013/05/14/known-but-never-seen-a-love-story/in response to photos like the ones included here been seen by me. I wanted to try to offer something to all the woman in the world who already feel like they are not good enough to deserve the best in life. I needed to do something to use my voice on this issue. As a woman who is trying to love who I am….the actual reality…and not what I wish I was, I can say the hardest part to love is my body. My greatest fear is after putting in all this work to be happy being perfectly imperfect, my hate of body will undo all that I have done. I believe if I feel this way there must be others who feel likewise. I urge you, to work on loving your body now…don’t wait to the end. We are woman, we are better than this.  

Billie ♥    Photoshop1Photoshop3photosop2BodyPerspective

Not Forgotten

i was not forgotten today

today, of all days, i feel

feel the need for kindness

kindness of a thought

thought about me today

i was not forgotten today

today when i was so sad

sad about not being remembered

remembered with loving thought

thought about me today

i was not forgotten today

today when moms are exalted

exalted i was not

not by the one i hoped would give thought

thought about me today

i was not forgotten today

today an angel cheered my heart

heart that was saddened

saddened heart was brightened with a thought

thought about me today

What I Live For

I live for

Four in the morning fresh air

air that fills my lungs every time I breathe

breathe in and out so I can stop my sobs that show my despair

despair over the past

past that they said could not last but I swear

swear at the pain I have inside that goes on and on

on untill  I rest and shows its ugly face again in a nightmare

nightmare is living in limbo of being given a second chance

chance  to find a way to tell myself and the past me to beware

beware of those that lie and say you are not good

good was a grading that you, in fact, exceeded but your lot in life was unfair

unfair to endure the pain and have to wait and hurt while you pray for the gain

gain of understanding and being surrounded by those who comfort you when you despair

despair that you did not earn but given

given means you can throw it away I swear

swear you will as soon as you can, trust yourself of the future

future will be better and you will still live for

Four in the morning fresh air.

– – Today I’m taking part in ‘What I Live For’, an online event organised by author Satya Robyn. People like me all over the world will be sharing what gives their lives meaning. In Satya Robyn’s novel ‘Thaw’, Ruth gives herself three months to decide whether she can find a reason to carry on living. There’s 75% off the kindle version today (99p / $1.49) – read more here:http://www.satyarobyn.com/?page_id=56 – –


Feet taking turns to assure motion
Always assured of function
Takes more than gumption
to shun shun

As shoes rub blister forms from friction
Trash is only sane option
Takes more than gumption
to shun shun

Lady on corner children caution
She shouts fanciful fiction
Takes more than gumption
To shun shun




Boys girls playing in the park

Fun had for no cost

Going home before gets dark

Soon off to bed flossed


Boys girls told it’s time debark

Into the world tossed

Soon know park was a hallmark

Feel sad childhood lost



Want to share another 7/5 Trochee Poem from a fellow very talented blogger.

Billie ♥


Introduction to a new series…Responses from the heart

On April 2, 2013 I started this blog. I never had a blog before because I was afraid nobody would read what I offered.

I know the, “What if I have a party and nobody shows up,” fear is very common. However, with much delight, people did show up to my party. Each person who gave me that honor, I can not express the amount of appreciation I have for you.

When I was a child, the writing that I loved had to be kept hidden away. You see, I came from a family that believed in secrets and one of the secrets they believed I should never tell was how I felt. Since I did not know how to write anything I liked without expressing them I would have to take a chance and find a hiding place for my treasured displays of being human. More than once, my hiding places were found and I had to watch them be burned. To some, the pain that I felt because of that seems silly. However, I am almost 40 and have learned I don’t HAVE to care what you think about my feelings and I don’t HAVE to hide them. That being said, as with any child-hood trauma, a person develops some internal fears which they can’t seem to ever shake. Those sticky fears is why I chose poetry as my chosen writing for the blog. I believe poetry is a backdoor method of expression of personal emotion. I felt, if I expressed with strangers my feelings this way and they looked down at me for how I felt…I had an out. I would always lie and say what I offered was done because I had literary license. Last night I realized…I was still hiding my feelings I have written. After that realization hit me….I vowed to myself now, who is grown, and the me as a child that I would no longer deny them the right to have feelings.

Don’t get me wrong. I will still write poetry and post it here on my blog. However, I will be making some additions as well. One of which, is a series titled “Responses from the heart.” The inspiration for the series came when I wrote some responses to posts from people I have social contact with online. It struck me how much beauty my responses had when they were produced from the heart and not thinking. I saw a natural lyrical quality that even when I really try I can’t reproduce when I make an effort to write poetry. Most of all…I loved how my emotions were never hidden.

With that introduction I will soon be posting those first two in the series. It stands to reason, because the way they come about can not be planned or thought out I will not be able to promise when you will see the next one. All I can say with assuridy…is you will someday.

Billie A Zahir ♥


Mother’s RIng

Billie A. Zahir aka "The Eye"

After being reminded of our Mother’s birthday,

I remembered the Mother’s ring she was given by us all

on some occasion I do not recall.

I do not know what her feelings


or are

about that ring

but I do know mine.

I remember growing up

being amazed

how all the stones were arranged

in a way that would make anyone think each stone,

right to left,

were not placed in order of birth.

September’s sapphires placed at either end.

The first was a son.

The last was a son.

Both turned out to be the daughter’s emotional rocks.

Always looking at the sensibility of living in a family unit

and enjoying

not having the emotional outbursts

that rocked the boat of our clan.

They have learned

if they walked away long enough…

all would be well when they returned.

Next to sapphires is the garnets.

Eldest daughter

Youngest daughter

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Loud Laughter

My loud laughter shakes the confidence of the masses in its presence.

Makes men and woman wonder what humorous tidbit they have missed.

Stands to reason…laughter is often heard in places haunted by the insane.



The people, going about his/her business, don’t know the secret to my glee.

People are too busy being who they believe the world believes they should be.

My loud laughter shakes the confidence of the masses in its presence.



Silly fools, tehehehe, they miss the point of mirth they hear coming from me.

I see the dark mass of self-doubt settle upon their shoulders like a cloak in incandesce  conditions.

Makes men and women wonder what humorous tidbit they have missed.



Shhh….I’ll let you, just you, in on the secret for the cause of my revelry.

My hysterics are because no matter the amount of pain I feel…I’m still here to endure it.

Stands to reason…laughter is often heard in places haunted by the insane.


Doing Right (Triquint)

Today, laws being used to constrain
On those who dare to complain.
Disallow those inane
Drink Champagne

Embracing Nature’s beauty seen insane
Claim all efforts are in vain
Disallow those inane
Drink Champagne

People finding it hard to sustain,
Feel neighbors disdain
Disallow those inane
Drink Champagne

Time to reflect and explain,,,

Today I played around with other ways to express my poetic voice. As a person who hates being put on a leash, I was surprised my writing day felt like no other day of writing in my life. One of my biggest fears was not being able to reflect who I was if writing within guidelines. However, if anything, the boundaries allowed me to express even more then I ever did before. I believe I was forced to to come to the point I wanted to make and my writing was more topic and emotion focused in its delivery. Another fear that made me afraid to attempt this was the fear of losing my unique voice as a writer. With a smile on my face, I see me in everything I posted. What a good day it has been for me the writer and me as a person. I invite you all to take a look if you can find the time. After all, sharing was my intention when I created this blog.

Best wishes in your personal and writing lives. 🙂

Mud (Lanturne)



toes of feet

recall youthfull


Decay Someday (Kyrielle)

At times I fool myself into believing I’m the boss.

Then I remember, I’m not. So I finish putting on my face with lip gloss.

I look at the finished creation of my Revlon face to see if it is right for the role I play.

I can’t fight the truth. Every day I live is a day closer to decay.

I do what I must to get what I need so I smile and nod as people pass.

Knowing all the while, the sand I have left is slipping away from my life’s hourglass.

Even though I know my time is short, I continue on. I was taught to obey.

I can’t fight the truth. Every day I live is a day closer to decay.

Doing the same thing as yesterday and the day before that…I start to feel stuck.

Life is so banal. Start to think it would be a nice change of pace to be hit by a truck.

Just my life’s luck, in my daily  travels, no diversion from boredom can be found on the highway.

I can’t fight the truth. Every day I live is a day closer to decay.

Home for the night and settled in. As usual, my activity is channel surfing for a life to live for the night.

Never finding the life I want…seems I am not alone in this crappy life plight.

I know I should consider each day I am giving a blessing…but I don’t.  Forgivness  is asked when I pray.

I can’t fight the truth. Every day I live is a day closer to decay.

Buttons and Bows (Diamante)


Pretty, Plenty

Primping, Swaying, Matching

Colorful, Girly, Useful, Concealing

Fastening, Frustrating, Popping

Needed, Replaced


You Are Missed (Monody)

He was the toughest SOB that I ever knew.

Every time, before, death knocked on his door,

he knocked the Grim Reaper on the floor.

Sadly, this time, the hooded one was the victor.

This was the man who lived through a blazing inferno,

being in the line of fire during the Korean War,

and fell from an iron tower.

Yet, as tough as he was, with me he was always tender.

I never, called him Dad…yet he was the best Dad I ever had.

When the time came for him to go cause the pain was too much I cried.

But, just like he did, I did what I had to and told them to turn off the machines.

I feel no guilt for being the one gifted with the right to end his pain.

Don’t Know If I Wanna Go (Rondel)

Will I be given a place in Heaven?

What is a ticket worth?

Was I issued one at birth?

Is that my long awaited mental haven?

If I do go, I hope my legs are freshly shaved

and I’m wearing a girdle to reduce my girth.

Will I be given a place in Heaven?

What is a ticket worth?

If I do go, I hope all are seen as even

not unequal like here on earth.

I don’t want to be looked at with mirth

or, worse yet, others who were told of my sins faces being graven.

Will I be given a place in Heaven?

Please (Etheree)


see me

as I want

to be seen by

others in the world.

The gift you give with eyes

felt like sparks of pure delight

starting its warm feel good journey

in my lonely heart, jolts of heat spreads

to my toes and finger tips..NEVER STOP!