When I was young and time was infinite,
I was spontaneous, impulsive, and impatient.
Now I am older,
and life is precious,
and the timeless becomes a time
with an end in sight.
Love becomes more visible.
I am adventurous,
thoughtful, and patient,
building the next dream
in a timeless future.

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It is here that lies your beauty
do not testify to me anymore
of dandelions and daffodils
of butterflies and bees
do not sing like crows
beyond the dispersion of sight
then gather
in cold bare trees
sick with
discord
dislike
misfeasance.
The reward for
transgressions
destroys the cache
of elegance
of magnificence
of splendor
do not pour out sadness
breathless
from your panting ...

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eyelids and earlids

beauty from color

shapes

scenery

glimmer from a lake

all lost with eyelids closed

birds songs in the forest,

symphony of city car horns

beeping to a crescendo

cooing of a morning dove

breathing of a lover

all lost with ear lids shut

is one better

to lose than the other

one would have to ask Helen Kel...

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thorn rose in quicksand

a pale siren lost at sea

gurgling a hymn, that's

what she means to me

she's saying little of late

quieter now than of yore

time's calmed her down

once I called her a whore

came home at all hours

partied till she dropped

spent money like water

manic how she shopped

once a nymphomaniac

in bed she wore me out

I was not t...

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There is always one sacred moment

when the night's ink black sky

allows some personal atonement

to my dull and once-blind eye:

a single white star's icy reign,

absent in the deepest dark,

until the second that my brain

is riven by its diamond spark.

That this sheer shining crystal blazed

while hidden from my careful scan 

can only leave me dumb, amazed

that the min...

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Twice she looked, and smiled 
I said: "Hello"... She replied 
Before she leaves, I said: “see you” 
She became blushed as the bride 

Again, we met after a minute 
I heard her lovely sighs 
I said: "you are....", she said: right” 
Shaking hands by sight 

Purely, she asked to know 
Are you Farag, Are you poet 
I said true.  But again we met 
To inspire me to write

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Oblivia 

You look at me through your new found fashionista,

Tell me that I am boring,

I understand,

Why would you speak of the

Dull state of today?

Stars, planets, climates, people, love,

You perspire to the empty beat of a London club,

Held together with Hennes zip,

Peer through designer lenses,

Moulded to diamond encrusted frames,

Colourful ri...

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