so gentle and understanding

pining silently, too friendly looks

brushes, only an artist would use

our union under the moon

what should've been, blooming for you

even as I depart, I leave you keeper of my heart

watch over me well, my tender one

It’s supposed to be spring
So where are the flowers?
The brightest of stars
Bringing beautiful laughter
-
If it’s supposed to be spring,
Then where are my flowers?
My laughter my love and my beautiful chapters?
-
If it’s supposed to be nice, if I’m supposed to be done
Then why do I feel like just flesh without bone?
-
Why am I empty
And frozen throughout?
Am I missing my springtime by having this drought?
-
My flowers have settled
To stay in the ground...
I’m sorry, my spring never showed up this round.

Our world today shines much brighter
the month ahead is Ramadan!
Blooming upon us is the best of the months
Ahlan wa sahlan ya Ramadan!

Chockablock with pure blessings
is the oasis in the opulence.
Bountifully raised dizzying high
comes with the Night of Measures
better than a thousand months.
Ahlan wa sahlan ya Ramadan!

Everyone, near and far
only look up high!
No rainbow can outshine
the finest face of the serene moon
is about to show up.
Welcome it loud with the whole heart
Ahlan wa sahlan ya Ramadan!

a little cup dripping with warm memories of spring flowers,
forgotten in this cold city

being around you feels just like a movie,
and i am the entranced spectator
watching as the frames zoom in closely,
my desperate eyes trying to capture
moments where you unknowingly cause butterflies
and gardens to bloom from within me.
each time your fingers tightly grasp mine,
i want to replay that heart-stopping scene
for the feelings of dizzying euphoria
to endlessly run through my veins,
much like what people want more of
once a breathtaking movie comes to an end.
i know that whenever i am with you,
forever does not seem like a long time,
and if this wonderful movie starring only us two
continues into the lovely night, i would not mind.

A cozened rose
perforated
into bloodlines
nights ive painted.
Cold and distant
in the frail light
broken words to
my folded eyes.
Strikingly pale
to the sentence
that I bear down
in my wishes.

the rose, scented and floating across from me
its thorns were prominent and sharp
a means of protection for the delicate creature
red pigment screamed to the sun
wishing to meet the sun´s eyes
the petals stretched and reached with the leaves

he stayed perched up in the skin
blinding those who got too near to him
the sun never took notice of the bleak rose
he was busy shining for the world around,
drying children off as they played in the cold ocean waves
deepening the nutmeg color in the skin of those who let him

so the rose whined, and reached endlessly for what she could never grasp
and the sun continued to do his job, never realizing the fulfillment he would've had,
if only he took a chance

She is so pretty like
blooming sunrise.
Her beauty
in her shadow
is burning fire.