Tag Archives: Aman

More from Aman



What do you say

To the needle that pricks you

While you sew?

There’s no one to blame,

There is only you!


T’was destiny that put you there,

And from here on

Who knows how we’ll fare.


Rocky and even

And up and down

There sits the king

For him I’m a clown.


What do you say to the

Needle that pricks you?

To some quite a lot,

And to a lot just a few.


Shush now! They say,

‘Tis just a pin prick they say


That was my last drop,

If only they knew.



So smile now,

And look on,

On the horror of things unfold.

These are made of your nightmares,

Look on,

As the warm wind turns cold.


So smile now,

Even though you shake and shiver.

At heart you know there’s no hope,

Nay, nary a sliver.


So smile now.

There’s no room for fear,

The beast can smell it,

Don’t let him get near.


So smile now.

‘Tis only the beginning.

The nightmares unfold,

As you feel




Testing the water


Three poems by Aman


Uncertainty unbound

The walls made of bricks

Hold no solace,

The hum I recall is gone!


I move to the unknown,

Yearning for the song

Which perhaps may be my own


A long wait it’s been

To hear the sound

That beckons

To the far horizon


And should the note ring true

Will I really reach that elusive hue?



To yearn for a grand morrow

to have striven for the ray of thought

only to realise you’re happiest with your lot.


Know your need, not the want, ‎the path reaps the price,

Alas only the old now realise.


Even the “great” in death strive to tell us,

we depart empty handed‎ the way “He” had made us.


‘Tis just me, young in body tho’ old in mind‎,

How fortunate, I understand, there is yet time.‎


The words that you see; mean not what they say.  The path that we follow will lead us astray. A pinnacle we reach, clawing our way through a shroud, all we achieve is a modicum of doubt. Let not the rational lead you otherwise, the path turns to thorns, in our twilight we realise. Break out break through for you and your own; like Charles did eons ago unknown. We build but to no avail; our bones will turn to dust no matter o’er whom we prevail.