I have thirteen bruises on my right leg
but none of them hurt as the one
you left on the left side of my heart.

there's a photograph on my bedside table
you thought the sun will shine
whenever I'd look at it,
now you have gone,
the sky in the picture has turned to something dark
no room for sun,
and there's dust on the photograph and you
you are just a shadow
on the sidewalk I fall on letting all the rain pour down on my soul,
and the sun is just a memory
and you are just an excuse to turn my smiles into tears
and I am just the dust
falling on your lungs.

and we were just a glimpse of happiness,
an illusion
a dream,
a lie I listen to
before my eyes close,
before the darkness comes in.

....
From womb  to born
Every morn
Each breath
Even on the road of death
I’m alone
Walking with broken bone

While the Summer wind blows
In this narrow lane
Love flows in my wide vein
As the Streams of heavy rain
Alone else
Only the past tense

In the dark, I hark
A distant bark
In the dream there was
A beautiful park
With a few sign of paws
Yet I couldn’t find any cause

The Streams going down
While flowing in this old town
The Stone grew worn and torn
Rolling else alone
Like my broken bone
.......
@Musfiq us shaleheen

She smells like the summers of India,
Heat radiating from her skin,
Her eyes two green planets on our own.
I can see her through the window,
Wrapping paper thin Egyptian cotton
Tightly around her *******.
I know not to stare,
But her beauty wraps its fingers around my neck.
When she is finished she will stand back,
Gaze at herself in the mirror.
She just might cry,
Like I have seen her do nights before.
In early morning
She will step onto the balcony.
Rising before the dew touches the earth.
I know not the first thing about her,
Save the glory of her beauty.
Perhaps I shall never know more.
No,
I know not the first thing about her,
But she loves to watch the sun rise.

On the East Coast of England there’s a small resort
Called Cleethorpes, where I happen to reside.
And out towards the Pleasure Park
A short way from the shore
There is The Boating Lake.

I love to go there on a still, sundowning evening
When the parking is free.
To walk those walkways around the lake,
Dreaming I’m on Starfleet Academy Campus.
Walkways flanked by lawned hillocks and shrubs.

The lake is fringed by red-flowered reeds
And punctuated by ducks and geese.
Families and couples roam about
As I sit in meditation
Watching and listening
To the central fountain play.

Such a tranquil scene,
Far from the madding crowd.
Go over the bridge and cross the mini-railway line:
Before you reach the saltmarsh and the sea
You’ll find a stretch of shrubbery and trees
A haven for the birds
And for me,
As I walk my favourite path.

The lake is thus a prelude
To some splendid growth
As nature does its thing.

Serene and tranquil everything
A spiritual feeling
As I meditate
Beneath multi-layered clouds
Under endless sky.

Paul Butters

Staked
to slate
by ache
and fatigue,
unmoved am i
not a breath
drawn nor exhaled
as the blistering sun
traverses
a merciless sky
like a snail.
I close my eyes
and feel the pulse
i've become,
baked, a beating
continuum.

You can give a piece of yourself but it will never be enough
its all or nothing, and you know this to be true
in a world that's forever hungry you have to address the problem
come to a self awareness of what it is that you desire, and why,
because you can count on St Augustine when he says " you are more or less your desires" So understand where you are going, where you have been, and where it is you would like to get to, and again St Augustine, " love and do what you will".