BLURRY

Walking down a dusty lane
With a lighted candle in hand
In a dark midnight of September
I heard voices.
Voices that spoke to me, within me,
Giving me the answers
To questions I asked myself.


* * *


As the ancient trees dance in the wind,
A wind blowing in a bright morning,
A kite flies…
Moving in circles in the same space
In the zenith high above.



* * *


My mind stretches out
To the shimmering memories
Noted in my diary once upon a time
Of pleasant, yellow evenings
Or wild, drunken nights
Or the afternoon sky
Of a beautiful February.



* * *

A PORTRAIT

As deep as the ocean,
Her cerulean eyes
Throw a penetrating gaze at me
And I bashfully smile at her.

With long, wavy, brown locks
And pouring eyebrows,
She’s prettier than Aphrodite
Though, not more than the gorgeous Cleopatra
And this is because,
This beauty isn’t tempting,
Rather serene.
This beauty isn’t elegant,
Rather simple.

Here’s a smile painted on her lips
Which, from another angle,
Reflects her sadness
But this is to me, no misery,
Just a ‘Mona Lisa’ smile.

I can view her to her abdomen;
Her neck, bosom and arms,
All covered in primrose and white—
A perfect blend of purity and luminescence.

Anonymously, she’s been created
By some pitiful painter
Who’s given her everything
Bestowing all his skills upon her.
And I call him
“A sanctified creator of Love.”