Friday, November 20, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
The passing night air
stirred the potpourri
of fragrant dreams.
Songs of cricket in dark bushes,
the soft hum of rustling leaves.
The night stood still
with its dark hair disheveled,
the silence held captive
in its flagrant folds.
The moon dropped silver coins
into her begging bowl,
with barbed discretion.
Last night you wrote your sonnets in Braille: the commas, parenthesis, ellipses engraved perfectly on my skin- and I ...
Look what happens with a love like that- it lights up the whole sky. ~Hafiz~ Picture:Google
the waxen face of moon melting in the pool of tears like snow in my palms © Nazia J
if I hold my breath, if I become very, very still: if I stop breathing; if I just stop breathing... will I hear you calling me, f...