Our love is punctuated
When language becomes a word
For our bickering spirits.
We are two birds
Beating our wings
Against the others’ wind.
Tag: Heart
When you would say my name
With me, I had known
Your heart, my pen… a poem.
When you would say my name,
I had it all…a home.
❤
Waiting
What of your wine have I taken,
If never I your stem have shaken?
I’d wait till you’d for reasons sway,
Be it even … angrily,
And drops traced your petaled lip,
Leaving little to let one sip.
She would fly
Holds her petals firm,
And for moments they flutter,
Not flight, no, they fall.
Sky
Amongst the heavens,
Space between my emotions,
Passes just slower.
20
What can we say of our last words?
I think they live in memory
To bind the ruins of the self
Till ruin lives it’s infancy.
19
Death lets a quivering breath
As he approaches my Love,
Shamefully taking her by the hand.
For even he is servant to time,
And time… has fallen into my Love
18th
You are my inevitable inspiration.
At first, you are my language.
Then, you are my tongue.
At last, you are the moment I can’t swallow.
And sometime after that, you are gone.
17 days
Were you to walk these streets,
Your sigh would scatter seeds,
Little dreamy pebbles sent
To take the place that’s mortar meant.
So when a town is overgrown,
By branch and petal taken down,
I’ll know where your spirits walk,
And I’ll know with whom to talk.
16
I told her “My dream awaits
Beyond the olive groves,
It hides in the warmth
Of a figs sugary folds.”
I told her “My childhood,
Nestled in your jasmine vines,
Swings in whispering scents
That powder your neck in thyme.”
I told her “My heart lives
In Palestine’s street,
In your life visit again
So I can feel my heart beat.”
ahorsealone 
You must be logged in to post a comment.