Saturday, November 24, 2007

Blossom


Each wilted flower has seen,


a gentle smile curled on the lips,


a glitter in the eyes that saw it,


caressing touch of fingers that brushed past it,


a cheek as rosy as itself rubbed against it,


a warm sigh of an old lady,


remembering someone,


a bee that drank it's nectar,


waved in hands of a young lover,


whispering stories short and sweet,


little prayers and wishes,


whispered to it for good luck,


a shy giggling girl,


repeating- " loves me, loves me not "


little buds blossomed,


and carried secrets as they bloomed,


secrets of life,


serene and true.

Tides Of Time


The tides of time have risen,


lets set our boats free in these storms,


let the roaring waves consume us,


lets sit with feet dangling at the edge of the wooden plank,


as the white foam is splashed in,


lets sit under the clouds that pour furiously,


let the storms of contempt throw us back,


as we throw ourselves into it,


the tides of time have risen,


lets set our boats free.

December's Eve


The molten golden sun,


diving down,


into the dusky evening,


sets it curtain down,


the turtle doves,


the blue breasted,


orange beaked birds,


float and flock their way,


to the warmth of their nests,


as I lay quietly,


snuggled under sheets,


all cozy,


the wind blows outside,


rustling the leaves,


on a december's eve.

Knight From A Lost Battle.


I see my fingerprints on the proof of insanity,


A song driving bolts into the dead skin,


mottling,


pale,


cold,


singing into the ears of roaring sea,


debris of penetrating tune piling up at my doorsteps,


hear me,


my tune,


the melody of foiled agony,


the snowflakes blown away in the wind,


resting aimlessly on bare branches,


I am but a leafless winter,


the white fluff that coats the earth,


the grey sky that breathes into the day,


innocent truth of craftily hidden solitude,


the knight from a lost battle.