A green, ungiving pond
In an exhausted park
Held with an iron bond
His stagnant equilibrium.

©LazharBouazzi, 30 March, 2018

I fondled you with my hands
I didn't remember my eyes
I forgot my stories
When I felt you in my little heart
I don't know...
Maybe
The grain field was beautiful in my dreams
My ******* are be beautiful, too
When your lips become golden
I didn't want the sky...

با دست هایم
...تو را نوازش می کردم
چشم هایم یادم نبود
قصه هایم را فراموش می کردم
وقتی که تو را در قلب کوچکم احساس می کردم
...نمی دانم
شاید
در خواب هایم  گندم زار زیبا باشد
سینه هایم زیبا باشند
لب های تو طلایی باشد
...من که آسمان را نمی خواستم

i have a blank canvas,
my poems like watercolours,
sweet blues and greens,
drafted in blossom.

spring brings new leaves
and budding flowers,
opens her eyes,
begins to dress the earth,
finds freedom in the flowing
breeze,
while the sparrows
sing like fluffed out
buddha's in the
hedge.

the blackbird dances on the lawn
(always in a tremendous fuss)
birds scrambling with
twigs and scraps of cloth,
chattering about the silks
of the blossoming sky
and the sands of the sun
blowing ceaselessly
in a gold dream of day.

clouds without edges, white like
soft pillow cases,
the sky filled with the pale embers of dusk.

the day drifts away, striding, skirts swaying
floating in the ether, untamed and restful.

sunken like the stars, the
dark begins to ripple its black
pools, carves its statues of wood and moon.

i wait for you in this opal night,
my legs a song of longing
my breath a shiver of scattering
birds, flowers in my hair,
my kiss gold blossom
unlocked with a sigh.

i melt as you touch me
my eyes whispering silk,
blue enamels of sea,
my arms
gathering you to me,
my breast full of
dark songs.

i glow, my eyes bold shadows of night,
my lips pressing in to yours
gathering honey like a bee.

i am your girl of the wind,
a jar of stones,
your beautiful muse.

gather me to you,
hold me for ever
and i will learn to speak
of love like
a solitary red rose petal
falling to the floor.

i.

in the wild, drumming rain
blossoms sink, confetti pinks,
riotous whites, collapse
in spring’s paper mache pools.

ii.

on a hot tin roof
the rain plays her wind
guitars and percussion
while the sea recharges
her engines with the
thunder of the waves.

iii.

the sound of the rain, chiming,
a crazy singer on the forlorn
lawn, stretching like an
accordion, wild in her
wilderness,  crashing
like the waves
drawing me closer to you.

iv.


you kiss me and
my heart skips a beat,
flutters with excitement.

i long for summer with her
gold sun, warm, rushing
streams and bottle-blue sea...

Do I love you?
Do I,
Love...?

The words have stopped
doubled over on themselves
in pain
unrecognized

In truth
I wouldn't know--
you, Love?
But maybe from a picture
thinking--
"This is from where the poems come?"

Having never searched your eyes
with mine
nor heard your voice
invoke me

Known your thinking
in any given moment
Nor you, mine

Nor watched your hands
for hints
endear
affection
in expressions

Could you forgive my mess of moments?
the lame that years have left
so slow circles
the lonely artless?

socially inept

I fear
you could not forgive the fear
for so long
left behind

How can you say
you love me?

By what assurance do you

Speak into my void