Saturday, July 18, 2015

Stye--By Sheikha A.--Pakistan and U.A.E.


It is night again, no deed of wonder
as the sun clock’s her departure time
for normalcy to take over extra shift;
the moon peeks out head first, cocking
his eyebrow at a dullard world, shifting
in drabs from brown - to grey - to black.

He dominates the black with his frame,
robust, radiant, glorious; striding man
fully to his rightful throne. Reclining
into the night, arms go lazily over head
blinking away sleep’s impish fingers
strumming symphonies on his lids.

The moon blinks, hopelessly imposing
rank on sleep while drooping ample
weight on the night’s squinting eye.

Sheikha A. is from Pakistan and U.A.E. and often finds herself in a world of oscillation that most of the times motivates her writing too. She maintains a (or tries to) blog on


  1. Wow! This is a spectacular write, I love it! I am so impressed with the feel that you present within this illustrious poem. You make me feel each moment that the moon goes through, all the phases and the winks of its dormancy. What a special piece, great work,


    1. Thank you, Russell, for reading and appreciating my poem =)

  2. Sheikha! Wow! Much enjoyed. -- Laura M Kaminski

    1. Laura, thanks ever so much for giving my poetry your much appreciated attention =) =) <3

  3. Sheikha,
    I love the human qualities you give to the moon in this poem. I enjoyed this immensely.
    Your friend,
    David Fox

    1. Thank you, David. I am glad you enjoyed reading it. =)

  4. Very poetic. Nice write, Sheikka. Thank you for sharing and continued blessings!

    -MJ (