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.
Tag: Poetry
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.”
After 15
I have walked among the clouds,
And where are they now?
There is no welcome to the sky,
That isn’t whispered in your sigh.
14th
Had I been ready to pray,
When we sat beneath the oak,
What would have I to say,
If I hadn’t listened to these folk.
It’s not that careless I came,
Or that my spirit’s stern,
But nothing is the same
When I hear the oak and fern.
13 Days long
I asked in the love of our days,
“What will you last love me for?”
She kissed me with these words,
“We will mourn many deaths,
Before we mourn our own…”
So she said “…a poem.”
12-Noon
I can not say what I know, or don’t,
Yet I pray for your smile.
And even if today you won’t,
One day it will be worth the while.
Cantos continued…
It was 11 days
Can you feel the moon as it was
That night that passed in falling stars?
We were since a bedtime fable…
Though sleep I shan’t,and sleep you’re able.
Day 10
I’d often think that fireflies
Would drink beyond their means,
Stuttering aloft this canopy
Spilling sips of revelry.
9 days
A setting sun sheds it’s colour,
Beneath timid summer leaves.
As winds would shy past shutters,
Wooded souls swayed warm and dreamed.
ahorsealone 
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