Sculpturing Imagination.

Poetry and more.

[zubiachalkoo-blog]

I'm going home.

I'm going home in the same old car,

Travelling the same roads that I've travelled before.

Reflecting the brightness of the afternoon sun,

The road shines in the midst of apple trees.

My vehicle suffers the same fate as me;

To the right, orchards pass by,

The left side holds no different sight.

I look out of the window

at the sky which holds its vast self.

And I'm thinking to myself,

That no matter what route we take,

The sky's above all as it was before.

Suddenly something tells me to dream,

My eyes are shrouded by the sweetness of sleep.

I wish to be at rest but my mind to roam;

I struggle to hold my desire

Because I'm only a few miles away from home.

Zubia Chalkoo

[zubiachalkoo-blog]

A chilly winter morning

and I’m walking down the street;

Wrapped in the warmth of my fate walking with me.

I’m accompanied by the idea of my destiny,

People ahead of me and people behind me.

But I leave my footsteps where they donot leave.

The sun comforts me on the surface;

The breeze cools the inner me.

There’s something far away,

that I cannot see.

Here yearns to run and burn,

a part of me.

But will I have to walk

and let the sun warm me steadily?

or is the same breeze going to lift me up, to slither my way back to my cave again?

Zubia Chalkoo

[zubiachalkoo-blog]

"Bare souls will damage you. In a way your heart craves."

-zubiachalkoo

[zubiachalkoo-blog]

If you decide to uncover yourself and show me what frightens you and darkens your soul, I wouldn't hesitate to give away to you the only part of my bright caged inside me.

Zubia Chalkoo

[zubiachalkoo-blog]

Bad dream

A dellusion that created itself in my head

has my heart beating faster

and sweat tripping over my face.

I pull myself up breathing heavier as ever,

I close my eyes, getting yet another shiver.

My mind dwelling in a quivering soul,

fails to chase the hallucination away.

The silence brings sounds that are from none,

Helplessness sheds tears, longing to run.

Heart craving for peace is all I hear;

The body rests, yet carries all the fear.

Not a nighmare, it is a mirage,

that reflects the shaking soul which lies

inside the person I pretend to be,

when I've lost yet another part of me.

Zubia Chalkoo