To you my Love,
The flames I do not want it to die,
Thus I lit the room full of candles,
Till your heart move
Rose a symbol of my passion,
When your heart move,
I coveted to be your rose,
The sign of lasting passion
I want to hold you in my arms,
Kiss you in the lips,
Bring you out on a special date,
Whispering Love by your side on the bed
Embracing you fully throughout the night,
Wishing the dawn will never near,
And only brood in contemplation,
With only you at my sight.
September a month of evergreen playfulness,
During childhood I do always remember,
September, a name so nice it was sung,
Wake me up when September ends.
Blues away, maladies everywhere,
Flood in
Gustav floundered in the States,
And Quakes again in
September a month of woes,
There were never before a malady of many,
September, a name so somber it was sung,
Wake me up when September ends.
There was also a memorial to remember,
Marking the day ended of liberation,
Will we ever be free again?
Wake me up when September ends.
Jester: the King of Humor,
Humor, chuckles the demure,
Laughter, a remedy for a gloomy day,
It shouldn’t be anyway a serious day.
Uncorrupted by despondence,
And still sober while others mourn,
Neither happy for achievement,
Nor contented over sojourn.
Dispirited over failed melancholy,
Rejoicing over agonies,
Untwisted dilemma, tease joyfully,
In the Joker’s land of cronies.
There was no hope in anticipation till,
No faith in justice writhe by the corrupts,
A mockery of system runs by filth,
No end to chaos till anger erupts.
Just another two days a hundredth falls,
Though counting in agony,
So long the fact when sadden,
Time is likened ice thawed in flowing tears.
Never thought a lifetime of sisterhood,
Be severed by unwelcome submission,
For long wanted to confess to Lord,
That perhaps all are mere delusion.
Once mentioned our tales will be a fable,
That union again will be a fabrication,
Like the tale of the Lost Soul and the Lonely Bird,
Both perished under the disguise of ignorance.
Not withstanding the strong attachment,
Yearn for a beautiful fabrication,
A fable of marvelous infinite love,
Only between you and me to last.
The pain misery felt like own,
Memories flip pulsating like beats in the heart,
Inappetence, by whom not from the crown,
Palpable by our very own heart.
The only solace found in weeding the emotion,
Very much like stamping out the wick, our pretence,
No more warmness, but darkness motioned,
Light again the fire of existence.
I remember her, I remember not,
Through monographs of lives,
Monographs of thoughts,
At times better than evenings' jives.
I love you always, but time doesn’t consent,
Chance unforgiving, time irredeemable,
Soul mates meet and end,
Shall we meet again, it will be a true fable.
