Lazhar Bouazzi Apr 2016
The first thing I saw early this morning
When I pulled back the light green curtains
Was a hectic blue 'n orange butterfly
Waving in the fair sun of my garden -
Between the enclosed well and the laurel tree.

On the red radiant sidewalk,
Two damsels strutted together;
A turquoise skirt wore the one,
A chocolate T-shirt the other.

Jubilant they were together,
As the cadence of their laughter
Waved in the air like Tunisian silk.

No harvest did my screen display today,
No mountain range did loom far in the distance;
All that was shown were a laughing sidewalk,
And a quivering sun in a small garden.

(c) LazharBouazzi, April 21, 2016
The first thing I saw early this morning
When I pulled back the light green curtains
Was a hectic blue 'n orange butterfly
Wavering in the fair sun of my garden -
'tween the enclosed well and the laurel tree.

On a sidewalk, red and radiant,
Strutted two damsels together;
A turquoise skirt wore the one,
A chocolate T-shirt the other.

Jubilant they were together,
As the cadence of their laughter
Waved in the air like Tunisian silk.

No harvest did my screen display today,
No mountain range did loom far in the distance;
All that was shown were a laughing sidewalk,
And a quivering sun in a small garden.

(c) LazharBouazzi
red Aug 10
as clear as ice, in night or day
reflecting faintly, a soulful reverie
reminding its presence subtly
dewdrops dripping rhythmically

standing in the way, an invisible wall
trying to reach the distant horizon
of which, birds appear and disappear
like speckles of black in orange canvas

eyes—blank and expressionless
mournfully staring in quietude
of the distant mountains and hills
and clouds floating idly

in monotone silence,
a hand reaches out only to be impeded by a cold caress
The woman in the window
  Looks out beyond the glass
Beyond the reach of her whispers
  Befogged upon windowpanes glance

Farther  than  the  bounds
  Her own breathe imbues
Out of reach her long fingered touch
  Tracing her murmurs on looking glass dew
Grasping for the shadowed artifacts
  Only time does nonchalantly drift past

Perched alone upon a cloud of silence
  Her thoughts eddy in soundless swirl
Spinning like dizzying shadows
  Swallowed by a thirst for light

The other side of window beckons
  Only she knows she’s looking out through a sigh;
Seeing no one familiar looking back ―  
  For what hidden jewels within abide

She dreams of dancing leafless by daylight
  Twirling beneath the whispering willows sway
Just a step away from being free
  Just a step away from feeling alive

With first step beyond imprisoning hesitation
  Crossing over the threshold of a dream
Through a liberating portal outside the glass
  Just on the other side of the windowsill ...


                  Jesse e Stillwater
13th  April  2018;   8 of 10
writerReader Jan 2015
Cat
what do
you think it's
like to be
a cat looking
out the
crystal window wondering
what it's like
to be
free
Mark Tilford Aug 7
(pulling back the curtains)

looking outside
looking for hope
looking for the way to cope
looking at a tree
thoughts of hanging a rope

the window
reflection of a widow
her head slopes

the window
lays
an envelope
the note
she clears her throat
it begins to rain
she whispers my name
with no blame
with no shame
i love you
the
same

the window
(the curtains close)
rob kistner Jul 26
(I have always wanted to get lost in this moment I describe here!)
_

in this moonlit forest
midnight shimmers
through the misty boughs of old growth
as if star clusters dance the branches
above our high-mountain meadow
lake aglow like sterling satin

a crystalline wonderland
this night holds deep and quiet
save a great white owl
echoing through the frosted cedars

lover and beloved
we entwine
embraced in half-wake
semi-lucid
entranced by the spectacle
just outside our window

I hear myself whisper
how long have I been awake
is it morning
yet I do not want to know
I do not want to break this spell

but rather
to lie here in your arms
and fall again
into gentle slumber
to traverse with you
the time and space of dreams

_


rob kistner © 2010.
Imagined lover's reverie.
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