The music that resonates, caressing the fortress of my heart
the crimson citadel, guarding the adversary, from its chambers,
her voice is ever so beautiful, melting, mesmerizing, the cold bricks
quiver-- her tempo crescendos -- heaving the sirens of my spiteful soul
It can't take clamour, it squirms in desperation, the relief of denial
If only I were deaf, it would desperately cry, for she sings and I can't help but listen,
I love her,
the hymns of truth she sings, scathing the callous skin that drapes my heart
reminding me of what I have spent this life forgetting,
and eternity regretting.
So she sings and I can't help but listen
to her songs of truth.
Her songs of truth.
4 comments:
Amazing
Salaams, Nice poem. If only I were deep enough to write couplets of poetry, I would attempt it.
But for now I'll stick to the superficial mullah view of life.
lol salams,
Hey Yahya sup lol, nice suprise :P how things goin? how you livin it?
glad u liked the piece...lol, the 'Mulllah View' haha, by in large, i've never particularly liked the Mullah View :P
remember me in yours,
Peace
loevly pics, especially the fluffy donkey and the poetry sound beautiful as usual. London Misses u. Rezia asked about you yesterday, we were having a little celebration at a Iraqi Grill for Niamhs and Sofias Birthday.
Hope to see s you soon inshalla.
Post a Comment