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Khalid Mukhtar

Word, like wind, cuts through you / Withers all but true you

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Revelation

Khalid Mukhtar · June 1, 2013 ·

There is a peace one never knows
If one does not believe,
A peace that comes to only those
Who masterfully weave

A tapestry so intricate
And rich in every strand
That’s dyed with every hue of faith
By a sincere hand;

It is the peace that came upon
A meditating man,
A visit from a stranger by
A sempiternal plan;

The angel held him in embrace
As was the task assigned,
Compressed his heart, a thing of grace
And piety combined.

And thus the being heavenly
Commanded him recite,
But how could he comply when he
Could neither read nor write;

And so the man declined despite
The vastness in his breast
Again, the angel held him tight,
Again his heart compressed.

And when the angel pressed his will,
The man was filled with fear,
And feeling quite incapable,
He sensed his end was near;

But angel actions waver not,
As does not falter plan
That hones the intellect of what
Is ordinary man.

Embracing him again so tight,
Expelling all his breath,
Compressing heart with bonds of light,
The man was near death;

And then release, expanding breast
So wide and so sublime,
Exploding spirit long suppressed,
Transcending space and time.

A wave of light that filled the sea,
A blast that filled the air,
A shock that spanned the universe
And all within its care;

Then rose up, through the firmaments
The news of what occurred:
The last and final messenger
Had borne the Mighty Word.

Love and Fresh Air

Khalid Mukhtar · May 9, 2013 ·

You can’t see the air, but you know that it’s there,
It stirs up the sand, and it blows through your hair,
It flushes your blood as you breathe everywhere,
You can’t see the air, but you know that it’s there;

You can’t see a love, but you know of its bliss
That brings you a peace and it makes you to kiss,
Reminds you of times and of people you miss,
You can’t see a love, but you know of its bliss;

You can’t see your Lord for an eye cannot bear
What minds cannot measure though hearts may declare,
Like air ever trapped in a medium rare
And love ever blind to the sight of despair.

Pleas

Khalid Mukhtar · April 6, 2013 ·

If your Lord loves a thing unto which you incline
In the hope that the Lord will be pleased,
Then His pleasure with you is a promise divine
With no part of it ever decreased.

But if He is displeased with a thing you adore,
And it grieves you that He is displeased,
It may please Him to see you get down on the floor
To take stock of a heart that’s diseased.

With a heart that is flushed and abluted with tears,
Let the earth take your brow and your knees,
And when grief, like the dew in the sun, disappears,
Do get up and get on with it, please.

Mercy Sniffles

Khalid Mukhtar · March 14, 2013 ·

It’s hard to see you cough and sneeze,
All curled up in a ball;
To toss and turn at every wheeze
Is just no good at all.

You miss your healthy self before
The coming of those germs,
But you know even germs must live
Their predetermined terms.

The cloud upon your face declares
The falling of a tear,
But hold your head up high for there’s
A silver lining here;

It’s true, the Messenger has said
The Lord is with the ill,
So come prepare the finest spread
To host Him and His will.

Begin with appetizer chants
Of His Majestic Name,
And line your plush repentance with
The cushions of your shame,

To pour into the goblet of
Your heart the Word of Light,
The more the pleasure of your guest
The more that you recite.

And then your Guest will sup upon
Your supplication fine,
Choose every word with care as you
Beseech your Guest Divine.

For everything you ask him for
Is granted you, or stored
For you to be united with
The day you meet your Lord.

Remember, child, that you are in
A state, supreme and pure;
So pray for much, but do begin
By asking for a cure.

Published in The Society of Classical Poets 2013 Annual Journal

Khalid Mukhtar · March 11, 2013 ·

Four of my five submissions were published in the 2013 Annual Journal of the Society of Classical Poets. The works included are:

Children of the Year
Jameel and Jameelah
On Cancer, Guns and Hit ‘n Runs
The Ever Rising Tide

This is a real honor for me considering only forty poets were selected from over 600 participants, and the journal has about seventy-five poems in it. Very heartening for me and my work.

Thanks to Evan Mantyk for his consideration, and for his zeal in keeping the tradition of classical English poetry alive and thriving.

-KM

The Wednesday Song

Khalid Mukhtar · February 28, 2013 ·

I wrote this little song to help the girls cope with Mondays. The weekend seems too far away on a Monday. But Wednesday… now that’s almost here. 

The middle of the week is here, the middle of the week,
There’s something very special ’bout the middle of the week.

Your Monday morning blues fade into Tuesday morning skies,
By Wednesday, you’re walking with the sunshine in your eyes;

Just like a spoon of lemon flavored cod liver oil
Goes down before it leaves the taste of lemon in your cheek.

The middle of the week is here, the middle of the week,
There’s something very special ’bout the middle of the week.

Its true they say that Thursday and Friday can be fun,
But you know it gets busy when there’s work that must be done;

You’re happy for the weekend now, but have you heard the news:
You’re headed for another case of Monday morning blues!

The middle of the week is here, the middle of the week,
There’s something very special ’bout the middle of the week.

Your Monday morning blues fade into Tuesday morning skies,
By Wednesday, you’re walking with the sunshine in your eyes.

Happily Ever After

Khalid Mukhtar · February 27, 2013 ·

When Baasha had done his hours of toil,
He walked from his shop through the dirt,
His hands bearing cuts from metal, and oil
Did streak down the sleeves of his shirt;

All traces of weakness fell from his face
To see by the door of his shack
His Rehmet in all her dignified grace
Just waiting for him to get back;

They shut out the twilight, bolted the door,
Then dined upon water and rice,
(The water in fact exceedingly more)
With salt as the singular spice;

Then Rehmet looked up at Baasha and drew
His blistery hands to her face,
To wash them in streams affectionate dew
That rolled down her cheeks in a race;

Ten thousand some miles away in the hour
When dawn is announced by a breeze,
There sitting beneath a clematis bower
Husna and her husband Aziz;

The question that Rehmet hid in her tears
And found not the words to advance,
Her sister in faith presented those fears
In much of the same circumstance;

If you were to die, and I to survive,
Or I were to die leaving you,
I worry the one remaining aliveĀ 
May not really know what to do.

Aziz said no words, but dried off her tears,
Did Baasha, to Rehmet, the same;
The darkest of nights eventually nears
The dawn in celestial game.

– – – –

Your marriage is like a stake in the sand
That shifts with your every breath;
As long as you breathe, you must understand:
The thing that cements it is death;

He witnesses you as one, in His name,
As you bear the witnessing high,
Companions in life to always remain
Companions in life once you die.

The Parable of the Sincere Sinner

Khalid Mukhtar · January 28, 2013 ·

There once lived a man, so happy and blest
With but little good to his name,
For much he accumulated in sin
By deeds of remarkable shame.

And left he his sons instructions to burn
His body when he will have died;
Thus when came the time for him to return,
His dutiful children complied;

And true to his words, his ashes were spread,
One half of them over the land,
The rest of him went to the ocean instead,
Exactly the way he had planned.

But outside the realm of on-ticking time,
Where even does time have an end,
The Lord gave the earth an order sublime,
Commanding the ocean to send

Before Him the dirt defining the man
Attempting to hide in the earth,
Completing the glorious cycle began
Before he was destined for birth.

Addressing that soul in manner so plain,
The Lord did approach him as one
Who chidingly asks his child to explain
What made him do what he had done.

“I did so, my Lord, from fear of You,
Forgive me, a misguided slave”,
And so shone the Light of mercy and love;
The best of forgivers forgave.

Now, this is a tale, a parable told.
Prophetic, insightful and true,
So don’t you become so foolishly bold:
That man was sincerer than you

And me.

Parent’s Wheel

Khalid Mukhtar · January 13, 2013 ·


In proper proportions of water and clay,
And merciful motions of formative play,
Expel the rebellious pockets of air
Resistant to fashioning fingers that care;

Position it all at the center, precise,
The center of pulsating goodness and vice,
And tend to this child with a nurture so warm
That molds it to beauty and perfected form;

As perfect as whatever may be the norm.

Inspired by a verbal exchange between my wife and this prolific craftswoman.

Ekphrasis of a Vase of Carnations

Khalid Mukhtar · December 24, 2012 ·

Oil Painting by Azeem Chida
Vase of Carnations, oils on canvas by A. Chida

You carnations in foster care
Sit splendid in a dwelling where
Your newfound sibling baby breaths
Come forth to decorate your hair;

Like golden pheasants flocking free
Beneath a mercy cherry tree,
Whose fruit descend the leafy steps
In schools of seahorse company.

But for the pheasants fallen dead,
I’d call these creatures heaven-bred,
For how these walls of glass reflect
The heads of children tucked in bed.

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