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Today is  worse than  yesterday,
But better than tomorrow.
Today is a lost day
Yesterday was a gift!
But hard to accept this shift.
What is time,
If today is not yesterday?
Look for your day
But don't make of it
A dramatic play!
No ,I don't want to say
That your day is my day .
Title: Lingering Wounds

The vestiges of my wounds persist,
Undeniably unhealed as the passage of years ensues.
A palpable sense of self-negation prevails,
The weight of the past causing an abrupt collapse.

The reservoir of tears, once considered a remedy,
Proves futile in altering the irrevocable theft.
Today's scars are emblematic remnants,
Echoing the enduring pain of yesterdays.
Irrespective of station, be it doctor or pop star,
A singular destiny awaits, beyond the horizon afar.
The temporal journey's end, it shall conceive,
Leaving behind a mere vestige, in memory we believe.
In the grand tapestry of life, where dreams transpire,
All possessions, we hold, briefly do they aspire,
Transient treasures in our transient chest,
A poignant reminder, life's fleeting bequest
In halls of wisdom, where thoughts take flight,
A scholar stands, seeking truth's pure light.
Pr. Naceur Ben Mesbah, philosopher's name,
In the realm of ideas, he's gained his fame.

With mind as keen as a blade's sharp edge,
He delves into thoughts from every ledge.
Exploring the depths of thought's vast sea,
Guiding his students to ponder and be free.

Philosophy's tapestry he deftly weaves,
Asking questions profound, the mind he cleaves.
In lecture halls resonates his voice,
Provoking minds to make their choice.

With intellect like a beacon's glow,
He lights the path where thinkers go.
Through Socratic dialogue and discourse rare,
He nurtures minds with utmost care.

In pursuit of knowledge, he leads the way,
Challenging minds to explore each day.
Pr. Naceur Ben Mesbah, a philosopher bold,
Whose teachings and wisdom we firmly hold.

”To dream by the oak and awake by the sea
when August has ripened and turned Jubilee
you must enter dominion of summer's delight
and live in the rapture of candescent light

Oh to live and to love one must first learn to kiss,  
the kinetics of summer, with eternal bliss.”

~from vienna bombardieri’s poem, “Kinetics Of Summer~
(with her kind permission)


First verse pinpoints accurate, this,
my spot!
by oak and sea,
my precise longitude and latitude, where my summertime
eyes open to receive the gift of morning’s light, observing
the conjunction of land, hard by the sea, the land-ed avian gentry
and sea~sailor birds interacting, sharing the uprising currents,
for sport and observation, travel and pleasured sailing,
these “Masters of the Sky can fly for hours (or days), while barely flapping,” and this verse stuns, and
my shock,

at these, her words
my breathing is gasped and grasped
by oak and sea, for so it be,
this is where
my morning’s operatic scrum, ballet and dance hall hullabaloo,
my diurnal natural choreography is performed,
while slow sipping my very heated first coffee

it was here
that I learned to love more easily,
for the kinetics of summers trio of sun, sky, and moderate breezes,
lulled the turbulence of my disheartened lives into an easier
order, the world~surround, a living, breathing exercise that
warmed the spirit, cooled the soul, and spoke without uttering
a single word,
here dear person, is the where and the when,
the comfort of the natural-blanket
that enwraps, covers, cherishes the atmosphere entire,
containing the healing elixirs and protective ointments,
that remove the
plaque of life’s accumulated injuries, slights and scar tissue

simply put,
here I breath freely,
here I see with clarity
here the infusions of
living in nature, prolongs,
restore, remind, enliven
and enhances,
the intermixture of
body and soul

here in actual deed,
the kiss of summer bliss
my tiring cell’s walls,
are resurrected even unto the nuclei,
by the warm breath of sun life and sun light,
and the breezes of salty sweet caramel air
and under their loving, combined-dominion
am I
resurrected and will yet sense,
one more Jubilee again
as I lay dreaming
by the oak and the sea…
great appreciation to Vienna B. for the beautiful poem she wrote,
and thanks for the inspiration!
Always be dreaming!
In sickness or health, my love,
I stand by your side,
With unwavering devotion,
as your comfort and guide.
Though shadows may loom, and clouds may gather near,
My love for you shines bright, casting away every fear.

When illness wraps you in its tender embrace,
I'll be the shelter that shields your grace.
In your weakest moments, I'll be your strength,
Together we'll conquer, no matter the length.

Through fever's heat or pain's relentless toll,
I'll be the rock on which you console.
For love knows no boundaries, no bounds to confide,
It's an eternal flame, a steadfast guide.

With tender care, I'll soothe your brow,
Whispering words to lift your spirit somehow.
In laughter and tears, and each fleeting sigh,
Our bond grows stronger as time passes by.

So fear not, my dear, for you're not alone,
In this journey through sickness, our love has grown.
I'll hold your hand through each trial we face,
With love as our beacon, we'll embrace every grace.

And when health returns, as it surely will do,
We'll cherish each moment, me and you.
For even in sickness, our love's light will glow,
A testament to the strength that we both know.

So take heart, my love, and let worries subside,
In sickness and health, I am forever your guide.
For even if you fall sick, remember this truth,
Our love's unbreakable, ageless and smooth.
A faithful man can never hurt his partner.
In chambers bathed in scarlet's vivid hue,
A maiden graced with royalty's decree,
Emerged midst December's breath, anew,
From Rose's lineage, her destiny set free.

Unmatched, her beauty, whispered through the air,
The heir of nature's treasures, poised to sway,
In comfort's arms, her mother's artful snare,
A dance of elegance, life's intricate ballet.

Within a cardboard cradle, humble, quaint,
A refuge born of mundane refrigerator's guise,
A phoenix in captivity, a heart's soft plaint,
As melodies of her mother's toil did rise.

Cigar's lingering incense, spirits' lingering trace,
Notes of rye and gin, tales of twilight's embrace,
Invisible imprints of those who found their place,
Within the alcove where desires interlace.

Such life, a gilded cage, ornate and grand,
A prisoner of opulence, bound by gold,
As Rose's allure dimmed by time's swift hand,
Princess, once adorned, in shadows now enfold.

Questions, delicate as lilies on still water's face,
Restless ripples of thoughts profound,
Did her mother, too, in the past's embrace,
Yearn for a different fate, a path unbound?

Yet, such musings banished, like morning mist,
For from her mother's teachings, she had gleaned,
To drown uncertainties in spirits kissed,
In numbness find solace, in forgetfulness, dream.

But winds of change swept familiarity away,
Transforming the tapestry of life's design,
Seated in a café's embrace, a pivotal day,
A stranger's arrival, destinies align.

His smile, a canvas of sincerity untamed,
No hidden agenda in his tranquil gaze,
Words woven like an intricate tapestry unframed,
An invitation extended, a connection's blaze.

In her contemplative realm, a seed of query sown,
Could he fathom the secrets her past concealed,
A princess sculpted by a world overthrown,
In the crucible of a fate unrevealed?

Reimagined in verses, this tale unfolds,
A mosaic of sentiments, resplendent and pure,
From captive to sovereign, her journey of old,
Princess, unchained, her essence to endure.
in a state of trance, imagination is the master
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