The written Chronicles

For—
by Fikri

AMONGST

The bittersweet remnants of
my broken dreams, there
lies a vacant space, it
cries out redness of
longing
wanting,
loneliness.
A piece, waiting to be fit.

There you came, the perfect
manifestation of the piece I want.

E,

But-
The dismal reality of love,
Vividness slapped me out,
the incredulity,
the lingering fact,
the multitudinous sea of hate,
imposed to me, I swore I could have ate
myself up in non-existence.

The pauper saw her,

M

demure, silken, holmberry lips
Disjointed from his muddled world
In echoing minds of others he fear,
the shame he might have if he did.
Who would want a sordid thing….
The pauper down in his doldrums and
Back to his muddled world again.

You do not know,
Yourself of the figure,
Furthest in reality,
close in fantasy I find.
the dreams I had of you, it unravel all wounds of the mind
it seams the shattered studying brain.
Joy frolicking amongst the thunderous rain.

Alas!
The pauper knows the reality.
Versus the figment of his mind
Never to materialize in this prison
the gown the lady wears,
the permanent stain has he,
Never to be juxtaposed never to fit.
Alas,
To the blighted star he returns

Of the poisonous ivy field he risked
the bee bit the blooming flower
the honey harvested,
stored for a special significant day

For ——-

The giving indicates nothing
I just want you to be happy on your day.

________________________________________________________________________________

SSW today was productive. Going to perform a concert at esplanade tomorrow. Lets see how it goes.