"winy" poems
My hungry lips started to talk
To your lips in language hungry,
As my tongue began to unlock
The well of your language sundry,
Necking your North African mounds;
Halting at your salving shell pink,
To sip and sup your winy words
And faint and wake and rise and sink
In the waking sleep of the tongues
Of your fire
To pen my un–Sufi desire
And die in the dunes of your body.
© LazharBouazzi
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 6:25 PM UTC
My hungry lips commenced to talk
To your lips in language hungry,
As my tongue began to unlock
The well of your language sundry,
Necking your North African mounds,
Halting at your salving shell pink,
To sip and sup your winy words
And faint and wake and rise and sink
In the waking sleep of your fire
To pen my Sufi desire,
And die in the dunes of your body.
© LazharBouazzi
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 6:26 PM UTC
Once more the cauldron of the sun
Smears the bookcase with winy red,
And here my page is, and there my bed,
And the apple-tree shadows travel along.
Soon their intangible track will be run,
And dusk grow strong
And they have fled.
Yes: now the boiling ball is gone,
And I have wasted another day….
But wasted—wasted, do I say?
Is it a waste to have imagined one
Beyond the hills there, who, anon,
My great deeds done,
Will be mine alway?
2.1k
My hungry lips started to talk
To her lips in language hungry,
And my tongue began to unlock
The well of her language sundry
Necking her North African mounds;
Halting at her salving shell pink
To sip and sup her winy words,
And faint and wake and rise and sink
In the waking sleep of the tongues
Of her fire
To pen my un–Sufi desire
To die in the dunes of her body.
© LazharBouazzi, October 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 4:47 PM UTC
Pathetic,
That's what you are,
And always have been.
Little winy *****
Who can cry on command,
Don't you know lying is a sin?
****** that I left you,
Thrashing in spite,
You shout to sky.
Dragging yourself down,
Showing me how I was right,
Screaming insults at the traffic that goes by.
I wonder why,
Or how you cannot let this go?
We are done.
Now I know,
You attention *****
Anything to get me to run.
Make your insults child,
This is as far as you will get.
Because I know you are reading this.
Grow up child,
Actually move on,
Because it's you I don't miss.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 1:47 PM UTC