Have the last of this summer’s bounties…
What will happen to us, my love?
When the season of apples and grapes start;
When the goldfinch has flown away;
When I am left alone once more?
Tell me,
what will happen to me?
31/08/19
Category: love
30/08/19
The sun is stil warm in my hair,
The earth is cooling down beneath my feet.
ice cubes jingling in their glasses,
birds dropping leaves like feathers.
softly, softly,
almost like a whisper.
Dear love,
I sing to you in a language that neither of us
speak.
Dear love,
I write to you in a langage that both of us
lost.
Dear love,
I dream in a language that only to the both of us
belong.
One white and pink rose,
two stands of lavender,
peonies…
Do you like my bouquet?
Do you like my poems?
Do you ever think about me?
I painted a canvas over your wreckage. Like the night sky.
I embroidered a sail for your journey. Like a golden wing.
I built an empire for your memory. Like a legendary kingdom.
One tinkling became an orchestra.
One word became a saga.
One dream became a whole life.
A life of waiting.
A life of dreaming.
A life of running.
Running from me,
Running from you,
Running to us.
Us,
she snickers.
Us,
she sighs.
Us
she cries.
And laughs.
But you don’t know this girl.
Do you?
Hush.
Halt.
Hear.
The echoes of time before time.
The scent of a barely lingering time.
The glimmer of that first Light.
Still warm,
Still welcoming.
Still embracing.
You must remember.
Your soul must known.
Your heart must echo.
That first beat.
Softly, softly.
Firmly, firmly,
Eternally, eternally.
Can your hear it?
Can you hear me?
25/08/19
Hey,
look outside.
Hey,
look really hard.
Hey,
look please look!
My dear old friend is back.
Fiery yet greying.
Tempestuous yet cold.
Roaring yet decaying…
Autumn is back.
Along with the cold breeze.
Along with the return to reality.
Along with that deer old ghost.
Dear to me,
Yet deadly.
So I write long letters to others.
So I write long poems to you.
So I write long diatribes to myself.
And keep you out of it.
Yet in my heart you remain.
Will you ever leave?
Yet you are long gone.
Never to return.
Never to write.
Never to behold.
Gone.
And yet you remain.
They call autumn the season of farewells.
They call autumn the beginning of the end.
I call it the return of my love.
Leaf after leaf,
the pretenses are bared.
Drop after drop,
the confessions rise.
Flutter after flutter,
hope flies off and back.
Back to the feeling I cannot shake off.
Back to the hopes I cannot bury down.
Back to the dreams I cannot forget.
But I heard they are burning down the forests,
But I heard they are throttling down the truth.
But I heard they are choking down the birds.
and the stars,
the stars.
they watch helplessly.
Twinkling
Burning
Suffocating
So far away,
Like you.
But I canot get a glimpse of your glimmering eyes.
But I cannot get a glimpse of your glittering soul.
But I cannot get a glimpse of your waning heart.
Nothing but silence.
Nothing but darkness.
Nothing but dust.
Do I need a deep autumn cleaning to make the ghost scram?
Layla Ali Sultan 