My Loving Adoring...

The blueish glide 

Elemental swirl

So beatific

Glance, cited with no blight

Caress The Night

Among the Noon break

The Pristine Glamour

The Bride of the Lamb

Entrenched metaphysics

Revolves to 

A heightened nexus

- By Laila Ali Haid

Dear Lord, I'm in London's Belly Still

A womb trap

Hit Makkah

Runway to 

Prophetic frameworks

The plateau 

Tech wire

Mum

Ideal London

Self 

Coquette

Up down 

Our Council Home

The make-fraud 

In such

like our glorious terrace perils

Riveting Belly

Fluid discourse

in London's trams

After London,

Where am I, Lord?

- By Laila Ali Haid

Underneath His Roof

The Seventh Heaven and Beyond!

In Expansion

Flattened Voids

Cloud hegemony

Allah

Executing the rain

Praised be He!

Our domain 

A curve above

Chalky Green

Eye-shadows

Ar-Rahman

Al-Qadir

Vitamin D Sun

Light too Bright!

I accept Allah

Seeing --

plausible.

believing?! 

Thought

Books

Text manual

Class 

and instruction

Knowing --

now what?

Beautiful to behold

As we 

'Be'

Under the grand sky. 

- By Laila Ali Haid

Somali Summer

accept this call?

nectarine finger

drawn forward

a heatwave longer

the temple 

here for us...

Father taught us

the Lord.

From the bell 

its throes 

tragic tears 

through earth's axis

it finds 

traces upwards.

Dromedary and heat

sand castles 

Black 

the throbbing

patterns

in an epistemological

chase to legacy

Kings, Queens and Sultans

Wars come or goes

Ever a tug 

tailed gowns

over winsome 

thorns, 

a rose kept 

well

for overture. 

- By Laila Ali Haid

Delilah Rebound

The sequence 

Not visionary 

But the crisp packets

And it is worthwhile 

The salience in 

the psych-liminal

I am quite diplomatic

Hair crown

Delilah rebound. 

Ruling baths

Headaches resound.

Sewn tremendous

Flail in fodder

Crystalline sheaths 

Romantic 

For Delilah Rebound. 

- By Laila Ali Haid

 

 

A heart like a celestial body

Behind the covers of temporal bliss,
lies finger-deep worry lines,
and smokers mouth,
It had lead you on,
you were easy, it said.

you, beholding the scenic
with painted moods
you left the turning sheets.

new drafts,

prayer mats,
renewal in light. 

- By Laila Ali Haid

Short Story Series - The Sheath, Machine and Vessel, Part 1

By Laila Ali Haid

The Sheath, Machine and Vessel

The clouds exchange form and become a fixture over the skies.

Deep down I can also perceive seas fluctuating in blood and parts, my very own systems welcoming seismic waves into my thought patterns.

I feel out for my glasses and afterwards, hit my head on rising from my bunk-bed. Brown warm eyes flash out to my faint cognizance and commands an oath for tomorrow.

It is a poster of our Brother-King, Nimrod II. "Tomorrow is a sheath which your hands can only pull", it reads. This is 2022, in which future leaps from our liminal states.

Tyranny in temporality.

Here, hearts and minds find strangulation in timed balances.

My name is 3456. I'm a 'Soul Cleaner', for the 'Progress in Sterility' unit.