oh, the air is sweet
the sun is hot,and the waves come crashing in
on my sand castle

and the sky is blue,
and the gulls cry out
their grateful song

for a perfect day
for a time for building
castles in the sand

for a moment in time
for a memory

cj 2016

When the ant had told
that December cold
night the grasshopper,
who had spent Summer
singing in the tree,
to go dance now that
he was hungry but free,
he didn’t show the hurt,
for he was alert
To the discomfort
of Winter and language;
but he left the village.

When he, years later,
Came back as a baker
(who sang in the day
and worked in the night),
the first thing he did
was to go see the ant -
a gift-wrapped guitar
in his hand.

(c) LazharBouazzi

We ran out of words
So we spoke with our bodies

this here
is a saga of a child
lonely and sad
seeking faith in the wild

born of fear
forbidden to love
but loves everything
he sees and touches

claps his hands
but didn't know it's war
growing up was hard
with peace no more

was told of fairy-tales
of an imperil utopia
then given guns
in place of arcadia

the boy remains
a boy no more
with ****** khakee shirts
and bones sore

shown a path to hate
and misery
but tears in his eyes
missing his family

prays to a god
who does not exist
grudges on leaders
and failed politics

finds his savior
in an stranger's bullets
they said it was the enemy
but it was just people

She is the calm before the storm
one deep breath of her cool scent
and her foreshadow
will send chills over your skin

She is the rain
her cold drop on your lashes
will remind you
of the things you did to her

She is the thunder
her voice filled with pain
seeps inside you
like the time she tried to die

She is the lightening
her brightness so quick
it is gone
before you can see her shine

She is the storm
that dances
never complete