The tragedy of life
Isn't death
But what we let
Die inside of us
while we live

Autumn leaves
would do
for remembrance,
Perhaps,
more than words,
or a  plaintive air
Of a yellow guitar;
a rain,
a wine-dark wind  
spraying last summer's
fragrance.
Ah! Your absence!

Your white,
present, absence 
unshields
my metaphor!

© LazharBouazzi, December 7, 2016

The shadows of time move over us
Like clouds rushing in to storm.
The water becomes irresolutely churned
Taking our souls with it
All the way out to sea,
Away from everything we can predict.

And while we are drifting, weathering the storm
The motion surges our intuitions
And we lose the premonitions of why we came here.

Through the eruption of thunder
Our voices are lost and we’re not listening.
In the snapping of lightening
We are blinded to the truth in each other.
So we rely on the unknown movements
As we try to manoeuvre the sails of our ship.

But there is no knowing if we can survive this.
It’s real but we thought it was a game.
And the heart beats in fear now
Rather than with the survival of adrenalin and exaltation.

A cool December morning!
Today I rose much earlier than usual
I watch the night stealing away
Like an accused convict under cover

Sunlight peeks through the leaves.
In the haze of overhanging mist,
Only the blurred silhouette of trees in sight
The crows have begun their raucous call

The leaves of grass are misted with dew
A cool zephyr blows from the south
Clouds float like shredded cotton
Even Sirius, the brightest star has paled

Life is slowly beginning to unfold
And men like shadows have begun to move
The sun has now climbed to the Eastern hills
In scintillating glory like a mighty king

Shattering the mist with his lance like beams
He exults like a victorious warrior
His crystal rays rouse the sleeping birds
And they begin their chorus in wondrous rhyme

I enjoy the sweetness of this lovely morn
In serene silence, I stand and watch
The light that slowly fills the Earth,
Dispelling all trace of overhanging darkness!

An azure skies
A rice field
A few storks

Lonely, like the ancient ocean
flooding fast upon the sand

past a fading line of footprints,
ankle deep in surf she stands

casting wishes on the water
like a sprinkling of snow,

light they land but moments after,
melt into the waves, and go..

whispers of sea
where the cold storm
gathers in the grey
sky, and the waves
pound the shore
running back
pushing down
arching like
fiery cats,
the ache of the storm
a tearful cloud
the song of
a poem.