Times of Change

Hope holds me

The phone is cold and stern

He is on the line with holy 

Of reminding of God

The man in the heart and the dear times

Changes mean life 

Enduring crystalline faith

The change is now folded

Into the question mark of our time. 

- Poem By Laila Ali Haid

Stringent

Kindly and hateful in that world 

In your time sure and cold

In the passing we see your love in bitter clothing

The world is mine not theirs

The face of kindness is in your deed

The hatred now just sleeps

We are knowing of Him

We left it now.

- By Laila Ali Haid

Shatter

Long times in cold stays to do with the light

At the liminality you saw a child

Small and cold was your chain

Frightened in emotional claims

The love for Lord and 

Your foot on the door way

Golden bliss

Slides away. 

- By Laila Ali Haid

Heart

Heart - Poem by Laila Ali Haid

In correcting your malady and heart shape

I thought in the core of the intrinsic light to the collated

Miseries and breathing periods

The cultures of the liminal

To ends regretful

Keeping a low movement

Progress seeking mild milieus

The caught deed flowing into the scene

Pardon expiring into the leaves

Plans

Plans - Poem By Laila Ali Haid

The draw in the life

was the crux of the mores

and frame in this construct,

ill-will and planning for the eons of dread and 

mercy in the carcasses of the known,

My beatific thus faded on the overlay of abstinence 

and glamor on the ferry back to town,

Draw blood onto the scene and 

paint a derby of hallelujah

and an excursion on marked changes.

Beat

Beat - Poem By Laila Ali Haid

My car drove on the shores of adjusting bulbs and crafts

A hatred on the day of plenty overcame the pulpit and he did cry

The crushing velvet on the door mantle and the hired hope

Filled with regeneration and renegade of pious lies and just matters

In my time I keep the solitude of frames

The raconteurs aspirations on the placard

An emblem, so a façade

So here a winter

Perfume

Perfume - Poem By Laila Ali Haid -

In the hardness of perfume culling holds on circled ambience 

The cool paint on the gallant town and stopping gardens for hatred 

The sore dew on the retained sea-ports and the strewn palaces at the westerly

In the codes of you and the gamine in the wooden quarters and mall cart

The purring death of the day, the styles of the him who... the brush on decay

Art losses from mothers, pained and lost in night-time relapses.