Scenes from an F-15.

White clouds, blue skies,
Above the bountiful heavens lies.
Tunnelling vision,
Now what exactly was his mission.
Missing everything by the breath of a hair,
Everything is a blur, that ain’t fair!
Coordinates received,
The enemy is besieged!
Locked on target, all systems go,
Boom goes the building along with the foe!
Mayday! Mayday! I’ve been hit!
He came out of nowhere, that little git.
Systems critical, have to hit eject,
Could have been a little more careful in retrospect.
Safely ejected, parachute away,
Feet on the ground, in the heat of the day.
From the frying pan and into the fire,
He loaded his Glock, just wishing he could fly higher.

Taha Sheerazi

Parched.

He walked barefooted,
Under a red moon.
Or was it pale yellow?
He peered through the gloom.

Parched with thirst,
Hungry as a bear.
He looked all around him,
But Sand and nothing to spare.

Something moved near his feet,
T’was a diamond back rattle snake.
Picked it up and cut its head off,
Thinking ‘you’re the meal I’m going to make.’

He mustered his courage and walked further,
Until he fell too his knees.
Looking to the heavens and cursing,
‘What gods are these!’

Ah! The thirst! The hunger!
From which He thought he would die.
But willpower is a funny thing,
Kissed all his aches and pains goodbye.

Took out the snake,
And ate it raw.
There was no wood or fire,
Basically meat in front of a lion’s maw.

Then he collapsed,
Right there in the sand.
Until his weary body,
Could take no more the heat of the land.

He woke to the storm,
Full of sand,
And waited it out,
Until he could see his own hand.

The sun was out,
The night had ended.
And pool of water in the distance,
Saw his spirit mended.

Ah! But the tricks god plays on us!
Alas! T’was a mirage, but so sweet.
Just another day for the desert traveller,
In the unforgiving heat.

Taha Sheerazi

Tidal Sensation.

Sand between my toes,
Shades on my eyes,
Flaunting my imaginary six packs,
I walked along the beach, looking back at my tracks.

The gentle waves,
Pushed against the shore,
Creating a frothy foam,
Around which, little crabs roam.

Ah, the shells,
Poke at my feet,
In all different shapes and sizes,
A collection you can never beat.

In the distance,
The waves keep coming,
Close to 15 feet high,
To every surfers delight, they go in running.

The heat is killing,
But the sea just as cool,
While Apollo and Poseidon,
Fight like fools.

At the horizon,
The most beautiful sight,
Dusk brings forth red, orange, and yellow,
An array of colors in all its might.

The sea is promiscuous,
Mischievously so,
Frolic in the shallows,
Don’t wander too far from shore.

The sea is so enticing,
And for I’d gladly take a knee,
For in all your glory, you will never know,
How much I love thee.

Taha Sheerazi

Fusion.

Should I compare you to a summer’s breeze?
Even though you’re more of a temperate storm.
Or maybe to the sweet spring in which asthmatics wheeze?
But you may be the autumn wind that tears the leaves off from the trees so that new ones may be born.
May I compare you to the eye opening painful drought,
But you may be the cold wet rains giving a few some or the other reason to complain about.
Or the beautiful cold winter with its snowcapped peaks and frost.
I may have run out of seasons to describe you, but without you, I’m truly lost.

Taha Sheerazi

The Pirate.

Standing on the prow,
With a crease on his brow,
With a cutlass in his hand,
Behind him follows his loyal band.
Conquering the waves he sails the seas,
With his entire crew sporting goatees,
He keeps a weathered eye on the horizon,
And its not something you’d read from a book by Bill Bryson.
Hard to starboard! Hard to port!
He’d take control of any kind of boat.
And he takes his loot, locks it in his boot,
And leaves the victims in total cahoots.

Taha Sheerazi

Tumbleweed.

Rolling around Mr. Tumbleweed,
Can you come to terms with this world of greed?
Where there are countless mouths to feed,
And the warnings the world refused to heed.
So in this ghastly time of need,
I’d like to ask you who performed that deed,
Of ripping you away like a weed,
And make your simple desert soul freed.

Taha Sheerazi