And when I thought
I could never love again
I met you.

Oh my dear love
You are in my thoughts
You are in my heart
You fulfill my fantasy
I can see you today
You,looking so sweet
Just like a star on the sky
In the middle of the night
Your eyes twinkling
And staring at moon
I will be there soon
I swear I'm not a loon
For me you are a boon
Your silent lips
& Murmuring heart
Saying 'I love you'
Your face shines
And decorates the sky
Your soft hand in my hand
And make a galaxy of love
Your presence in the sky
And your brightness shy
Follow the path of love
Your voice is attractive
That enchanting me
Your beautiful smile
Make me feel so happy
You are my star
Far away from me
To see you
To meet you
I want wings to fly
To Soar in the sky
To talk with you
Walk with you
And love you.

By shaffu

as a child the
woods
at dusk seemed
to have a way of
snaking
past five, six,
seven, eight
o'clock
    & despite
the stomachs hollow
ache we stayed
   safe inside
barbed
wire & wet moss
filled with
     days old raindrops
but every
good thing stops,  
it happened
      slowly,
the world coaxed
me, I turned
        round &
noticed the
stirrings
     of a town, your
hair
yellow as husks
     against a
wall of
slate & rocks
slipped

out of

focus.

Walking in dim thoughts
with the sound of rain outside.
The dripping pattern takes
me on a pitter-patting journey.
I'm neither here, nor there,
and yet somewhere
I must be.
Craving to be healthy,
in mind, body and soul.
Content perhaps?
Aware of who I am
and who I will
always be.
Is anyone like this?
Really?
Or are we a collected
mass of android
arms reaching
lamely for
robot parts?
Artificial emotions that
fester out like
***** mud shoes left
in the hallway.
We yawn internally
to avoid the truth
that we are bored
with one another.

Raindrops continue, as
does my doubting heart
as it wraps around
the possibility of
funerals and
Requiem Masses.
Long faces and
sighing masking
the indifference
of striving.
Together in mood
but far apart
in disposition.

Carry on, rain,
carry on. Slip
your wetness
against the dry spell
of my perception.
I can see. Or, I can
close my eyes to
imagine that the
tomorrow of thought
becomes the infested
reality I will be living.

I spend too many
careless storms wishing
for other days to arrive.

Lucid dreaming is the doorway
        to the unconscious.
So dream.
Do not stay closed
        behind cement barricades
        blocking the moon
        from shining.
Live.
Each second is for you.
The tumbling of life
         does not promise
            anything.
In one breath
you can have
        a time table
        handed to you.
A distinct framework
        of how much
        longer you shall be.
Stay in illusion.
Keep in mind
that very little
is worthy of
being screamed about.
Politics
        and
people games
        are not
         the substance
        of existing.
Picture colourful images
         that flutter
          playfully
            across the
           mental horizon.
A traffic light
      will
       blink
red, yellow, green.
A noise
        will dominate
         the shading sky.
These mean nothing.
Moments of distraction
        soon
         gone away.
Focus on fantasy.
Allow yourself
the freedom to
         celebrate
        the essence
        of harmony.
When you die,
       it will be
         your dreams
         that are
          remembered.
Breathe.
It's just
      a bad day,
      not a bad life.