Linger

Drops of light fell
      on my eyes of snow
Drops of light, fresh and wet
Drops from shivering clouds
      clouds, of rain and thunder
They poured the same

A Rolling Ball

A rolling ball, I am

Sometimes I roll, to tips of mountains
Giving you ripples of pleasure, maybe rattles of fears too
As I stand towering high, on muscles of iron

Arrows of Love

These arrows you shoot, of love

Sharp tips, emit sparks of poison
On hands, fumbling with rules

Sharp tips, drip drops of honey
On a heart, keeping its smile

Strange To See

A strange life this is, to see
A question not, of to be or not to be
In trying to be
We see not, what we are
In a pride to be
We see not, how we are
In a fear to be
We see not, where we are
In an agony to be
We see not, why we are

Streaks of Fire

 

Times, I shoot
Into the castle of leaves
Laid by fine strands of her love
Do I scatter her flowers concealed behind
Splattered buds, killed by my poisoned arrows