"zephyrs" poems
I climbed slowly,
slowly on the mount of aspirations,
On succint savoury dreams,
As i see the success peaking from thousand miles above.
I grip the cold stone
tighter, harder,
My passion,
my hardwork,
As i swiftly float
from the ground.
Snowy
zephyrs
of laze and evil,
Reign against me,
trying to break my hold.
Yet the fire of my
determination,
Still burns
within.
My thick woolen
coat hugs me tight,
My faith, my values,
Protecting me from
the blizzards of
jealousy, vile,
As i wind
my way
upwards.
A glance
backwards,
And the horrid past knocks
on the veins of my sullen heart,
Yet this soul will give up
no more.
The weary body,
driven by heraculous force,
through the steep slopes of time,
Against enormous storms and stints,
With an armour of patience,
Finds itself on dome of
success.
Ah!
fleeting
moments
of unscathed bliss,
Enamour for success,
And it's sweet sweet honey.
That slowly melts in my heart,
On top of the mountain,
Where everything is
freezing.
From
the top,
the hardwork,
the giant path looks small,
As the heart prepares to climb,
Another mountain.
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
*
*
Your soul is the moon after dawn
A vapour who sings of love as well as pain
A delicate blossom that twirls with zephyrs
Fragrant and enriched by the snow's kiss
The geese have fled from iced lakes
long preserved with whispers of old
In the shade of bamboo, my flute is heard,
carried to you by the frost-kissed air
Your soul, a vapour, the moon after dawn
Hear my hymn of peace,
till winters turn to fawn
*
*
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 12:21 PM UTC
Eve of Holi
A spring eve that’s all different from others
Zephyrs blowing away the leaves
Orange sky adding the flavours
Blooming flowers nodding in a rhythm
So Ironical is nature of this evening
That all these beauties act as ornaments of Kali
On a normal evening man would work
They would work appraising weather
They know it will not last long, they enjoy
Today they as if ignore it, of morning celebrations
Morning is gayest morning of the year
Every reason to see every man
Mankind being unanimous
Evening on contrary balancing it to a usual day
An unexplainable soundlessness, vacuum of thoughts
A day depicting environment without men on work
Streets still hold colours on their chest
But this colour no more is a sign of happiness
People meet each other, everyone has a smile
But that doesn’t match with nature suit
There smiles have scope within its sight
Body of people walking on street enjoy zephyr
Their mind stay startled of unusual quietness
Standing on my entrance, I observe
A swinging litchi tree, missing sound of saw mill
Smiling flowers, orange cloudy sky
Empty streets, parked wagons, and utterly silence
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
Although the skies appear blue,
Blueish white, with cottony hue.
Coloured orange, with fainted red
Dazzles bright at each sunset.
Evening sky, intensely blue,
Fainted is the sunset hue.
Glowworms dance, adorn the hue
Happiness spreads in the world anew
Into this landscapic purplish blue.
Juggling, days
Klucking nights
Lying stunned in this hue so right
Man, the creature, so curiously few.
No matter it's a day or two,
some hues amaze like a landscapic view!
Orange red, with deep yellow in blue,
Pearly stars, adorn the view.
Quilty cold, in the days with dew
Rosemary looks majestically new!
Sun, the ball of fire for few
Teaches, turns a page each new,
Unknown, interesting, perceivable to few
Vanity is so pale, to take,
Wander, wither, breath well each day.
Xmas may not come each day,
Yawn, smile, admire all days, as uncertain are night somedays
Zenith meets only the braves, let zephyrs cuddle, embrace your zealousy face.
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 5:18 PM UTC
Sterling eyes close the falling red ward
Big Brother has seen it all
He tells me: *there is danger
Terror past the massive, all-protecting Atlantic*
Don’t stray there, the mouth
of stumbling heads say,
They want to take away
Our safety, our ways, our Freedom
Mr. Elected reassures
*Nothing will harm you
Not with me going there
I don’t want you going there*
He speaks like my mom
Warning me of the illicits
I am too vulnerable to experience
It’s death I’ll go to- I’ve been told
Sleepless red monocular
Enlightening the air to a passive blue
It’s opacity beneath and above
Ascending again
Mama and Baba say it’s time to go home
I confront the arid peninsula of Qatar
Lungs accustomed, vitality not frozen
Precariously perceiving the harmful
Sentiments of years past in Jordan,
I wonder why
my kin would ban this place
Rumor on dirt pavement in a draft, ears picking up
*The Atlantic is not to be crossed,
A lack of morals, malintentions
lay beyond the scape.*
Extravagant grenade above,
Falling to the horizon
And no detonation, collapsing behind a curved veil
Skyward lay the remnants
Of heat, frozen in time
The lips in a box on this shoreside
Warn *the zephyrs from the ornery
Reaches towards our home
Be on guard of the deceitful
star at night that rains red*
Tomorrow may not be there
My blood brothers of Lebanon say,
But I wait, field of vision
aligned to the east
Aural stumbles translate, articulating
My brethren begin their search of food
And in too many moments unnoticed,
Black on bottom, red on the low, blue slowly suffocating the obscurity above
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
In the twilight zephyrs
under milky way skies
I stroll beside my peacock plumed God
Along the banks of the Yamuna river
with captivating charm
He teaches me
the Language of Love
Honeybees buzz around us
even though the coral pink
sun has melted into a
puddle of nectar at
His silken lotus Feet
and all the flowers have
folded their drowsy petals
raven heavens raise their
ebony veils and a
chorus of rhapsodic stars
chant Krishna's glorious name
I feel His raincloud blue face
close to mine
lightning from His eyes
strikes my Soul
...and We dance...
A trillion psychedelic umbrellas
whirling, dazzling Sufi circles
beneath the Golden parasol
of God's enormous
Love
Share/Save
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
***Extremely enjoyed picking up forest strawberries
among quiet zephyrs.***
~~~~
~~~
~~
~~
~~
~~
~~~
~~~~
~~~~~
~~~~~~
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC
There is a train filled with the thoughts of kissing the sea
It doesn’t stop at a station but at the toe of a boot
It shrieks its wheels to a halt near the cliffs of the Mediterranean
It gazes upon a violent shore
The waves pillage the roman sands
The flame descends
And with a whistle it collapses on the tracks
Healing its rust
Tasting the zephyrs with its skin
Yearning for the ocean
And then
With a thunder-
It rips its metal against the earth.
Coaling onward in a furnace
Never to leave these tracks
Never to kiss the sea
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
Zinging the zen-zone I was in
A zany request zig-zagged my way.
Princess Zinnia from the Zuider-Zee
Required a zippy line or two
To paint the zeitgeist of our times.
With the strength of a Zamboni-
With the power of a Zeus-
And an uncommon zeal I set out
To zap the doubt that slowed me.
With the flair of a Florenz Ziegfeld
And his zoftig choir of beauties,
I morphed into a zealot
Gamboling in the zephyrs
That wafted in from Zurich and Zaire,
Not to mention Zanzibar.
I felt like a Zacharias
When my zealous work went bust.
The writing turned into a zonk-
The accolades were zilch.
I felt like I’d been zippered up
Like a zebra in a zoo.
I lost my zest for going on
And slopped around in old Zoris,
Listening to zydeco’s beat
And feeling like a zit.
But then the Zodiac-
My zinging-singing sign
Came to my rescue
And I was marching off to Zion.
I was one wowie-zowie-zucchini
As I zipped across the pages
And zoomed from one idea
To an even zippier one.
So here, Sunprincess, is your verse
I’ve used up every letter zee
And gone from very bad to worse
But of this challenge, I am free.
ljm
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC
Lo! where the rosy-bosomed Hours,
Fair Venus’ train, appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year!
The Attic warbler pours her throat,
Responsive to the cuckoo’s note,
The untaught harmony of spring:
While, whisp’ring pleasure as they fly,
Cool Zephyrs thro’ the clear blue sky
Their gathered fragrance fling.
Where’er the oak’s thick branches stretch
A broader browner shade,
Where’er the rude and moss-grown beech
O’er-canopies the glade,
Beside some water’s rushy brink
With me the Muse shall sit, and think
(At ease reclined in rustic state)
How vain the ardour of the Crowd,
How low, how little are the Proud,
How indigent the Great!
Still is the toiling hand of Care;
The panting herds repose:
Yet hark, how through the peopled air
The busy murmur glows!
The insect-youth are on the wing,
Eager to taste the honied spring
And float amid the liquid noon:
Some lightly o’er the current skim,
Some show their gayly-gilded trim
Quick-glancing to the sun.
To Contemplation’s sober eye
Such is the race of Man:
And they that creep, and they that fly,
Shall end where they began.
Alike the Busy and the Gay
But flutter thro’ life’s little day,
In Fortune’s varying colours drest:
Brushed by the hand of rough Mischance,
Or chilled by Age, their airy dance
They leave, in dust to rest.
Methinks I hear, in accents low,
The sportive kind reply:
Poor moralist! and what art thou?
A solitary fly!
Thy joys no glittering female meets,
No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,
No painted plumage to display:
On hasty wings thy youth is flown;
Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone—
We frolic while ’tis May.
3.1k
The zephyrs run rampant from the heavy
clouds, one that the balcony Beauty fully
embraces.
Clad in her yearning garments, a dress of
snow silk-satin with a thigh- high slit and
a frilled silk-hem.
Whose arms are raised towards
Winter's melody-
The zephyr's caress ever so gentle,
her dress flutters like a dove's wing in delight,
stroking her slim feet,
her flushing heels-
It makes briefly escaping being enwombed
by the shades of her room; the anti-chamber
of her heart's greatest desire,
where many tears are shed.
a maid born of the mild moon-
Kourê.
The Sun at its zenith pales in comparison to
her beauty.
Her face, sonnet sweet-
Her voice, heaven's hymn-
Her lashes, argent's flutter-
Her eyes, cerulean haunts-
Her body, fragrant; a slender willow-
Her hair, silver-aurorian blaze, held up
by a star-studded parrot's clip.
Snow bejewels her divine lids, down to those
rosette buds that make her lips.
Despite it all, melancholy has a grip her
features-
She is one who pays little to earthly riches,
for it provides comfort in slivers
Thoughts of flowers rest far from the altars
of her mind, for her mind is clouded by
the thoughts of him-
He who she hopes to see and hold once more.
As he gave her word that he would return
from his journey, leaving her in the palace;
his hand pulling the black gates.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 7:16 AM UTC
*
*
One can never see nor hold the same
the same flake twice, but that cannot
be said for the Queen whose skin
is as white as a star and just as cold.
A plum blossom who thrives off
the winters and blizzards.
Her silver locks tousled in her wind,
her eyes were icebergs of the deepest
blue and yet they burn with kindness
Her thin lips form a smile when a
flake falls in her palm, her open
hand becomes a fist.
But then unfurls like a flower
in spring to reveal a plum blossom
petal that glides away to the song of
zephyrs.
Winters may be cold but it brings
warmth -
lovers grow close,
families bond
children laugh
Memories form...
The Fae swirl leaving trails of shimmering
blue as she looks to the distance.
Her white robe billows, so cloud-soft.
'The Summer's sun has become Winter's,'
she closes her eyes and exhales.
'I feel your warmth and pride, Sister Summer.'
'My dears?' the Fae flutter by her head
in waiting. 'Be sure to have apricity embrace
them all. In hour of the Summer's Queen.'
*
*
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 3:24 PM UTC
I.
A louse in a house
or a mouse on a blouse.
A bell that goes ****
or a gong that goes ****
A gap on a map
or a cap on your lap.
A drink in the sink
or an ink that stinks.
A spleen on a screen
or a queen who is green.
A bow in the snow
or a crow that glows.
II.
A wash or a whip,
a lip or a lop,
a top or a tip,
a car or afar,
a bar or a war,
a door or a snore,
a bore or a nail,
a flail or a whale,
a run or a bun,
a sun or a moon,
a spoon or a bus,
a fuss or a sigh,
a cry or a cheer,
a fear or a smile,
a while or a pen,
a den or a cat,
a mat or a hat,
a bat or a glass,
a vase or a weight,
a mate or a fork,
a cork or a mop,
a cop or a stop.
III.
Apples and artichokes, ants and antelopes,
bees and beers, books and brains,
cucumbers and chimneys, ***** and coats,
dogs and drains, dots and dominoes,
ears and eejits, elephants and exams,
flies and flutes, files and friends,
grasses and guts, giants and gyms,
horrors and hiccups, horses and hills,
igloos and irons, irises and idiots,
jumpers and jackets, jodhpurs and jellies,
kings and kettles, kites and kittens,
lions and lamps, lemons and lunches,
mums and monsters, mosses and moths,
noses and notes, nightmares and needles,
oblongs and orang-utans, organs and oranges,
paintings and pennies, ponds and pants,
quiches and quizzes, questions and queues,
rainbows and rings, rascals and rabbits,
snakes and sprouts, sweets and salts,
trumpets and trains, tables and toasters,
umpires and ukuleles, umbrellas and uniforms,
violets and vests, violins and vials,
wheels and wings, windows and weeds,
xylems and x-rays, xylophones and xysters,
yachts and yoghurts, yards and yaks,
zigzags and zephyrs, ziggurats and zombies.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 5:03 PM UTC
*Hint of green in amber rushing
Cold as ice in beauteous way,
Black beech towers overhead
Alpine zephyrs catch to sway.
Hint of green in boulder rapid
Morning sunshine gleans the tint
Wading forth to dangerous water
Pumping pulse in eyes that glint.
Hauling up and out with effort
Straining arms, staggered gait
Wading forth to sandy beach
With hidden prize that cannot wait.
Boulder in her amber shroud
Masking flash of emerald sheen
Pounamu in the Maori tongue
Glorious jade in turquoise green.
Treasure of high hidden mountains
Locked within exquisite glade
Birdcalls ring through wooded canyons
Reeling realisation made.
Photographs the proof of moment
Tremulous while masking pain
I caste far out this gem of Jacob
Splashing, gone, to torrent’s gain.
Tremulous I stand in wonder
Wondrous of this perfect place
I, who touched the smile of God
Now wear a happy, laughing face.*
M.
In the glorious wild river glades above Jackson Bay in the Mount Aspiring National Park, New Zealand.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 2:06 AM UTC
~
3:15 am…blurred red numbers tell as
I stir, reaching for what I have seen,
grasping for the moments spent in the presence of beauty
as once again you have visited me in a dream…
Pure white flowing whispered fabrics and butterfly trails
awash of waterfalls cascading and mountain top zephyrs,
rock face delights collect on horizons of hope
as softness frames your luminescent face
My eyes focus in the darkness
as your touch remains real on my skin
I am still while stars sleep in crescent moon hammocks
How can this be, I am alone, yet I was not, for I could see
You were searching for me,
barefoot on lush green vistas, daisy paths and buttercup drops
neath cotton candy clouds suspended
above echoes of love songs harmonizing with our heart beats
Night outside my window keeps time in silent motions,
slowly sweeping breezes form rhythmic patterns
and poetry settles upon my body
as I continue to write within my now awakened mind
Destiny beckons in fruited winds
as chocolate eyes find luscious views of nature’s majesty
Your skins glows of spring blooms in petal’d bliss
and opal desires in the warmth of the day
But I had found you…you had found me…
my desperate wanderings have shown me the prize, illumined the joy
lingering in your smile…your eyes
your touch which stays with me even as I lay alone…still dreaming
Sun beamed passions follow you, caress you in
dancing shadows of flowing brown hair
breathing of morning glory skies
and shimmering dragonfly wings
At this early hour, with an apricot moon peering through the curtains
and these words which have found me
playing among my thoughts, I now realize
that my every dream is you...you are my poetry
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 8:38 AM UTC
.
When you caught my wandering eye,
love was a small word to hide behind,
an improper play seen through a diaphanous veil.
There was a new star in the sky, a mint room,
still searching for a lost dream.
I sit and watch a world die, and another take its place,
a kaleidoscope colander, as silence has its throat cut
with delicate skeletal lace and a face of porcelain.
A whisper to the zephyrs of second glance
echoing through the histories of the future,
a plea from a roving orb like a mute scream.
Did you hear me talking to the wind
where the wild things grow, recapturing misty joys.
As the Horns of Cernunnos reflect the primal stag
and the cusp of the Moon vibrates a soliloquy,
you caught my wandering eye.
© Pagan Paul (17/08/17)
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 4:03 AM UTC
While others chant of gay Elysian scenes,
Of balmy zephyrs, and of flow’ry plains,
My song more happy speaks a greater name,
Feels higher motives and a nobler flame.
For thee, O R—, the muse attunes her strings,
And mounts sublime above inferior things.
I sing not now of green embow’ring woods,
I sing not now the daughters of the floods,
I sing not of the storms o’er ocean driv’n,
And how they howl’d along the waste of heav’n.
But I to R——- would paint the British shore,
And vast Atlantic, not untry’d before:
Thy life impair’d commands thee to arise,
Leave these bleak regions and inclement skies,
Where chilling winds return the winter past,
And nature shudders at the furious blast.
O thou stupendous, earth-enclosing main
Exert thy wonders to the world again!
If ere thy pow’r prolong’d the fleeting breath,
Turn’d back the shafts, and mock’d the gates of death,
If ere thine air dispens’d an healing pow’r,
Or snatch’d the victim from the fatal hour,
This equal case demands thine equal care,
And equal wonders may this patient share.
But unavailing, frantic is the dream
To hope thine aid without the aid of him
Who gave thee birth and taught thee where to flow,
And in thy waves his various blessings show.
May R—return to view his native shore
Replete with vigour not his own before,
Then shall we see with pleasure and surprise,
And own thy work, great Ruler of the skies!
1.9k
And you're a liar,
But then again really everyone here is.
The words spoken,
Always sound so dull,
When we sit in this room,
And mindless words float around.
I've seen you all lie,
For me,
For friends,
For yourself,
And we will all lie, to
Save lives,
Save thought,
Save even face,
People will tell tiny white kinds,
Others will tell the blackest of all,
All in the name of trying to be cool,
All in the name, they say, of kindness and love.
I'm a liar too,
To friends or my mother,
To strangers or a lover,
But it's in this silence,
I have to be honest,
Sincere, not withholding.
In stillness, the faintest,
Sound of beating chests,
Breathing lungs,
Trembling souls,
Zephyrs come howling,
While trees stand and whisper.
Sick and tired of the daily lies,
Fall into each others love,
Trusting silence to
Finally speak honest words,
For the first time in days,
Maybe months, even years.
A heartbeat cannot lie,
With sanity on the line,
And it's a sure step up,
From that sneaky little muscle,
Slipping in our mouths;
They say it's called a "tongue."
Let these untruths of yours
Be set free unto the sea,
Cease this fabrication,
Of stories told to me;
Pergure yourself no more,
Drop down your defenses;
Show the world what you have,
Show everyone your heart.
Nothing left to be said,
Can be the greatest gift;
I write these words unto,
To attest to you to sift,
Through all the words you hear,
Because words are left to
You to read and perceive,
They might call us fools,
But I'll tell of how I,
Loved more, this way than that,
Saved and spent my sweet time,
The right way,
The honest way.
I've lived ways most have not,
And if anything more tragic
Than a lie doth exist,
It has to be the story,
Of the souls who know not,
Honesty, but prefer lies,
How they have been bound at the wrists
And ankles, blindfolded at the eyes.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 1:49 PM UTC
Your Kiss is electric
And my body jumps at it
As if it were a basic instinct
These lips will be your bubble gum
Daring you to chew the flavor out
And let your thoughts take a walk
My body will light up for you like a lightning bolt across a night sky
Eagerly seeking your bones to ground me and your hips to grind
And your lips to collide with mine,
Like charged ions finding another
And when what's left leads into something right.
Bright blue electricity flashing hot white
And when the flashing slows
And the roar of our thunder turns into a distant lullaby of afterglow, wind-chimes and zephyrs,
I will see the stars I chased
And wished upon,
never forgot about me
or my dreams,
Just gave me more days
And different ways
To find you
And
To really recognize you
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 6:59 PM UTC
I soar with the zephyrs on a daily basis
Will I ever reach the stars?
Maybe.
At the very least I can spend a day with the clouds I envy so much
and be thankful to see my kin rising to the ozone
We are a generation of generating art rather than splitting the world apart
We can find a plant called hope in a desert with no seeds
We need to add ourselves to one another and witness what higher numbers can achieve.
I mean this world isn’t just in our hands.
Its secrets are deeper, written in our palms
So I pray that when you hold one another
the truths of this world speak
whispering "Us, not I"
among other things
that make you welcome love as if it were a long, lost friend.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 7:45 PM UTC
I remember so much and yet so little of that day,
I remember the woods near our home where I would used to play.
The den I made, smothered by oak and fern,
The dragonflies sailing zephyrs and their power that I yearned.
I remember clearer the presence of my father,
Struggling through gaps he was far to large for,
His smile strangely absent that day.
I remember words he whispered
"come child, today we are away."
Those words mean little now
So much more than they did back then,
When my mind idled with dragonflies
Locked in that wooden den.
I remember seeing the earth
Looking still, if not serene.
Defiant in it's rotation.
As countless ships,
Starward monoliths
Depart with naive expectation.
Some decided to stay,
As some always do.
The rest sail for space in search of silent refuge.
Once more we forgot ourselves
Embracing our own foolish divinity.
Forgetting the folly of our past
As it echoes unto infinity.
I remember once, now gazing at alien constellations,
The lines we drew in shale and sand to mark our different nations.
The pettiness we adored and the diplomacy we abhorred,
We burnt the earth behind us
And fled unto the stars.
The last thing I remember,
That day in late September,
The last solar systems' ember
Was the rusting glow of Mars.
I forgot how much I missed that home
Over the twelve cold years in space alone.
This place is not so bad,
But the trees weep strange,
Leaves drooped and sad.
From my window I see my grandson run
Chasing the shadows of new earth's twinned suns.
Fresh from the forrest
A new found den.
A second chance
Don't
Fail again.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 6:11 PM UTC
Sudden, as a bolt from the blue,
Came down a humming bird, tantalizing
Skimming down and darting up
As an ever revolving top
It reeled round and round
Before it alighted on a shoe flower;
That hung from a drooping branch
In a corner of my front yard garden
It precariously clung on to it
Like a small pendent on a chain
A sight so cool, now so rare
That lighted up my dull spirits!
Once they showed themselves up
On almost every sunny day
Promptly after the monsoon rains
When the plants en mass in resplendent bloom
Oh! How I love this tiny bird
Not larger than a bumble bee
Dressed in a cloak of gold and black
Flitting round on fluttering wings
It literally dances and pirouettes in the air
Before descending down closer to its target
Swirling, gliding n’ moving back and forth
As if unsure of what it should do
Then with a terrific **** and swiveling move
It hovers close to hanging blooms
Balancing itself sans any support
And draws out nectar with its long needle bill
When the zephyrs carry a sweet scent
It flits from flower to flower
And having enjoyed the ambrosial treat
It flies back well satiated like a shooting missile
My eyes fail to capture its lightning move
As it goes whizzing through the lambent air
Quickly disappearing like a mote of soot
Losing itself in the vast expanse of the blue
Being less than an ounce of fat
So light, sleek and well streamlined
It travels faster than the light of speed
In a fleeting dash, moving out of sight
Can any other bird rival it in agility?
Or vie with it in its simple grace?
How cute, this spirit of ‘disembodied joy’
This winged diminutive denizen of the sky!
,
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 7:31 AM UTC
Your love is
White cotton
White
Pages
&
Ethno
Paganini
****** ink
Delayed
Day after Night
Night after Might
Notes Scribble
Notes Scrabble
Endlessly
As my heart
yearns for you
As
Automaton
Of Adriatic Zephyrs
Blow my dreams
Toward
Destined direction
Future Journeys
Rock boats
Bouncing
Soles
Are
All
Souls
Aboard
The Canues
The Cocoons
Of your sweetest heart
And you know what !?!
You proud male~sweetest man !
I would say to you :
Oh ~baby !
Let's mount that train !
Let us Play Again !
Along the strange cocoa Coasts . . .
You can catch me there ~
Dreaming of your
Dreamy
Affection
_ _ _ _
Nature
Beautifies Everything !
Your
Life is packed
With pickels
&
Charming
Postcards
Glued on your
Baggage Honey Bears
&
Beavers
And Native Horses
Are not Badgers
&
Empty beaches
Are not what they seem !
She said
Darling !
You said
She said !
Love us !
And she
Is
Sheer
Eloquent
Beauty
A
Ga~seele
And You ~
Handsome Mind
Al-Ghazālī
At Might
Sombre butterfly
In this Night
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 4:29 PM UTC