Worried William’s Hidden Words

During the school day, I was never able to talk about how I felt because I didn’t have the words to express those feelings.

The words seemed to be hidden inside of me!

Worried William’s Hidden Words is a poetry book that allows you to see the words that I kept hidden for so long.

For me, poetry is a way to communicate how you feel without talking.

Let the words leave the page and talk to you in a new unique way.

The words had always been there, yet I felt speechless.  

Throughout this poetry book, you will read the words that I had kept hidden from an early age until my late thirties.  

I’m also honoured to share my words with other adults and children who kept their words hidden as well.

Willow Wings

How do we know if we are different to one another? It’s true we differ physically but do we look at ourselves and others through the eyes of our spirits and hearts? It is a deep question, so here is my answer; We are made out of memories, experiences, traits and thoughts maybe even more. We do not show everything to the world what lies deep inside us but we’re spirits defined what grew us, affected us, when we’re alone with just our own things, when we think, feel deep we all have wings made from photos of our memories, papers of all the words hit us hard, feathers of the old and new us. In this collection of poetry I share my deepest empathy of almost everything lies in your wings, I do hope out of everything I’ve written in my poetry you grow into the most beautiful form of you with newer wings.

Why?

This is a book of poetry written by an author with substantial experiences of both the East and the West. This short book treats disparate themes pivoting around religion, philosophy, politics and depictions of urban space.

Feelings Of A Pen In A Cloud Of Sadness

Tell the one who left He became a stranger His place is no longer the same We don’t talk like we used to We talk formally as if we were strangers We are at the end of that story that we called love Our feelings became the feelings of a pen in a cloud of sadness Written with pens, and lives in the clouds of sadness that rains her grief And her pain is in the heart whenever he bandages his wound.

Mirage Water

Have you abandoned me because I am a female?! Is it because I’m a defilement that corrupts your purity, my mister?! So, tell me: Why did you come to me? And gave me the life, then killed it between my hands. So you left and in the mirage, water washed it and washed me! Why did you flew me with your wings and raise me above the chandeliers? From there you drove me away, and in the blackness of the sea have you let me fall down?! I am not with wings like you to fly. You created me out of your crooked rib, and with it you drowned me! Is it because I am a female that you exile me?!

The Delirium Of A Crazed Woman On The Bridge Of Forgetfulness

When we imagine that we feel the glut of speech, and we need to exercise love, then we find us taming ourselves to be obedient to love’s fluctuations, to discover that this swelling is a blessed pregnancy, or perhaps it is inauspicious.

And from there I drew a picture…

I saw that there is a girl of about ten who still carries in her thoughts the genes of feeling.

And love is written by force… once in public and three times in secret

And after she exceeded thirty-odd years, labor came to her on the Bridge of Forgetfulness!

Perhaps she wants to knead the pain with bright hope, whose first cry is an incomprehensible stammering of love!

And on the suspended bridge, her pain would intensify agonizingly

Then she would fall asleep imagining her baby’s stammering

Has transformed into loud love notes

Played by a magical wand and a queen’s sceptre

And a book that is carried weakly by a crazed woman

Carrying it to term and releasing it took years

Until the hour of birth came between these pages!

Heidi Mohammed

Can We Move Forward?

Feelings are strange

And the strangest thing is its shape...

Those thoughts...

That stirs memories…

Exploring every inner...

Searching and searching...

It takes you to your faraway places…

Colorless...

Full of pain and bitterness...

To see if...

You are still hostage of your memories?

Or you are

taking a peek

looking away

and you get over it?

Hojas

A collection of feelings and thoughts written over the past two decades that I documented for a chance for everyone to read.

The Days We Are

In this life, moments pass us by, and a moment comes to elevate the next moment. Life is nothing but moments – moments from which we learn, moments from which we advance, moments in which we rise and moments in which we achieve. Each moment elevates us to be the person we are now in this moment.

Our life has been given to us by God so that we can manage it for the better. What a great blessing it is to realize that the moments we experienced are only moments that built this moment. Let us think about how many moments have changed us so that we can realize and influence those around us!

Yes, these moments came to tell us that everything begins from a moment of thought, awareness, and decision. They came to say that a small achievement may become a big achievement in a moment. They came to tell you, at this moment and every moment, that you can make a difference in yourself, those around you, and in this world.

Pen's Language

Thoughts covering the needs of human beings from a socio-educational and educational perspective, covering those sentiments in which some people feel love, longing and vision for the future, while some others feel the abuse of the intruders and the bad seeds growing in the dark sides of some human beings.

No To Separation

This work contains a poetic translation of various conditions and situations that I have encountered in the course of my life, between joy and sadness, love and hate, and setbacks… as is the case for all human beings, but I am fortunate that I can share these conditions with people in a poetic form and I hope I am bringing to you something new.

Poems With Another Concept

I'm tranquil, my lady, Without tranquility and putrefy, I keep up with the prairies. No philosophy, but ride in space with horses that Imaginary, To meet you without frills, And no waiting At the spring well… But wait for me there, At the spring of Eden Until you touch the childhood home Our nearby moon… The Faraway, With the fingers of our souls in the village Abyssal.