Of this verse
The core, the middle,
Is marked on its palm.
No riddle
To be guessed in a lyric
So brittle,
Whose task
Is  to hold in place
The fissured parts
Of a gypsy's fiddle.

LazharBouazzi, April 4, 2017

Fly without fear of falling,
That courage I envy.*

Beautiful in their feathers,
And content without covering up.

Can not cook nor farm,
But trust their creator that they wouldn't starve.

They fly high,
Up to where they belong..
Doing what they were meant to do.

Beautify the earth as creatures of the sky.

~
The swelling brooks, so clear toned,
Rolling rounds over musical stones,

That unveil the rushed veins of May,
Race in wide cool stills, freshnesses,

Of the moistened soils overturning
And the chimes in the belled leaves,

Before they shout from buds keyed,
To syncopate in sun by bopping bees

Who buzz with jazzy pillowing waft,
Of daisy downs, in mid air to reeds,

Lips newly sprouted, banding green,
Groove myriad symphonies of colour

And the roots of trees tempo tapping,
Into waters plucked, earthy sounding,

All voice, with woodland birds, in joys
Do trumpet, O what new life to come.

As I lie in bed writing this I feel an overbearing sense of nothingness, emptiness.. void of any emotion when normally I would.

Writing to me was therapeutic, calming progressive for me. But now..it's lost it's edge. I no longer feel creative, the desire to pick up the pen is gone and I'm back to square one. This was the one thing I was good at.

My fix wasn't taking drugs or getting drunk. It was pouring my soul into my work...and now....

It's gone...I don't know what to do.

I'm literally at a

loss

for....

You've ruined it all
Into my arms
I was holding you
Into my arms
When you told me
Into my arms
I was a mistake
Into my arms
you cried
Into my arms
You asked who played that song
Into my arms
The skies in your eyes fell
Into my arms.

Tonight I decided that I love the way that he looks
at me.
With eyes softer than infinite rolling clouds,
they make the finite
nature of my haphazard existence feel appreciably less
confining.

You were asleep
When I walked into your room
You're the one person
Who I would wake up
I put my hand on your shoulder and sit down
Your eyes open
You're still in your work shirt
I take your earrings off
I give you my hands and move close
"So warm," you say
"Only your hands are cold"
I would walk through your double doors
rarely are they both open
And everything is warm in this house
Only my hands are cold
And the sky's heart of fire
in this sea of burning coal
Our feet feel the bricks get warmer
Only my hands are cold
And when the rare day comes
You're chilled to the bone
I would run to help you
Only...my hands are cold

It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.