A spark, a glance, a whispered word,
A longing deep, a soul unstirred.
The everyday, the same old dance,
A love grown quiet, a fading chance.

But words like wine, a potent brew,
Can paint a world, exciting, new.
Of touch and taste, of skin on skin,
Where passion blooms, and lives within.

Not just a need, a simple claim,
But whispered secrets, a lover's game.
Desire unveiled, no longer shy,
A shared adventure, you and I.

The fire sleeps, it embers low,
****** whispers help it grow.
Imagination takes its flight,
And paints the darkness full of light.

So read aloud, let words take hold,
A story whispered, brave and bold.
For in that fire, rekindled bright,
A deeper passion finds its light.

Soft words fall like quiet rain,  
hearts bloom where hate has lain.  
Each syllable a golden thread,  
we weave light where darkness bled.  

Rich is he who speaks with care,  
sharing wealth that’s always rare.  
Kindness sown, the world will grow,  
a brighter path for all to know.

The quiet heart is softly mended.  
A breeze whispers, the soul extended.  
Each moment bends, a gentle prayer.  
In stillness, I find answers there.  

Peace hums within the fleeting hours,  
A garden tucked with hidden flowers.  
No noise, no clamor, walls recede
Solitude fills the only need.

At six, her eyes lit like dawn,  
We laughed, the schoolyard carried on.  
Hands met in secret, hearts untied,  
In whispers where no fears could hide.  
Years pass, yet her name still sings,  
A golden thread on memory’s wings.  
Though loves since then may come and fade,  
That first small flame will never jade.

The palm unfolds, a story told,
Of lines etched deep, a tale untold.
No woman fairer, grace divine,
Yet shadowed by a subtle sign.

A rose's scent, a phantom's plea,
Escapes your grasp, a mystery.
A book's embrace, a silent plea,
Unreadable, a void you see.

You, a... what word to capture you?
A paradox, both dark and true.
A beauty veiled, a hidden art,
A fragile bloom, a wounded heart.

The lines diverge, a shadowed maze,
Where hidden truths and sorrows blaze.
A whispered vow, a silent tear,
A destiny both near and clear.

Perhaps the fault lies not within,
But in the world's unyielding din.
A fragrance lost, a book unread,
A soul unseen, a truth unsaid.

Or is it you, with eyes so deep,
Whose gaze the world cannot keep?
A captive heart, a silent plea,
Awaiting someone, just for thee.

He walks in the rain, his thoughts astray,
Past shadowed faces that drift away.
A part of him was lost tonight,
The place where his world once felt right.

Steps echo soft on empty ground,
The rain a dirge, a mournful sound.
Home should cradle, a gentle release
Yet storms within will not find peace.

Three hours past the midnight bell,
He stumbled on the road, and fell.
Sweet wine had wrapped him in a haze,
Lost in the moon’s pale silver rays.

A light, a voice, a sharp command
A stranger’s torch, a stern demand:
“What brings you here at night so late?
Where is your home, what is your fate?”

He raised his gaze through weary eyes,
Beneath the dark and starlit skies.

“Sir,” he sighed, his voice half-bled,
“If I knew that, I’d be in bed.

I’d rest in peace, where dreams run free,
Not drifting here, but home, where me
Would lie in quiet, safe and sound,
On gentle shores, on solid ground.”

Still the rain falls, cold and true,
Washing the world of all he knew.

Kings Cross, where city lights ignite,
Once home to wild and painted dreams,
Now whispers songs through neon gleams,
A vibrant pulse in fading night.

Two paths divide the busy street:
One flashes bright with coins and fire,
A burning urge, a strong desire,
Where eager hurried footsteps meet.

The other, dim and hushed and low,
Where weary faces find their space,
To shed their burdens, slow their pace,
And let their heavier feelings go.

That quiet, second road I chose,
Away from glitter, loud and bold,
A different story to unfold,
Where inner stillness gently grows.

Then from the corner's deepest shade,
A whisper breathed my very name:
"Why did your spirit shun my claim?
Why did your heart become unswayed?"

My voice, a fragile, trembling sound,
Replied, "My Lord put a small light there.
No grand display, no worldly share,
That inner gleam helps me feel sound."

The shadow asked again, with sigh,
"Then tell me, why are you still here?"

I answered, "Just to make it clear,
To check my path against the sky."

The shadow wept, a gentle plea,
Then whispered soft, "You walk the truth,"
And vanished from my gaze, forsooth,
Leaving the quiet night to me.

Yet fear still tapped within my chest,
As I turned from that tempting lane,
And walked where peace begins again,
Towards a path of certain rest.

For those whose faith holds strong and true,
The gifts the Lord has given free,
Already calm the heart, you see,
For this brief life, fresh and new.

A tiny hand lies cold in mine,
Too small, too still, no longer thine.
A silent room, a broken toy,
Where echoes haunt of stolen joy.

No breath, no laugh, no sleepy sigh,
Just hollow air, and tear-stained eye.

A howl of anguish splits the night,
A wounded soul bereft of light.
A broken prayer, a fractured word,
The silence answers, nothing heard.

The world collapses to this form,
A raging sea, a silent storm.
My heart, a drum that beats and breaks,
For every promise it can’t make.

A cry to heaven, raw and wild,
The desperate voice of father, child.
A question flung to merciless skies:
Why must the innocent close their eyes?

A father’s scream, a primal sound,
Where love and grief are iron-bound.
A soul undone, a spirit cleft,
A war already lost… to death.

Banners rise yet make no sound,  
Strength is where the calm is found.  
Deeds, not cries, define the fight,  
Truth stands tall in quiet light.  

Words dissolve like fleeting mist,  
Victory's voice cannot be missed.  
Action breathes where echoes die,  
Unheard heights reach the endless sky.

She sells her body, not her soul,
a barter made, a passing toll.
Her touch is coin, her flesh a trade,
but spirit’s depths remain unswayed.
No gold can purchase what she keeps
a secret fire that never sleeps.
For one true heart she guards the key,
to open truth, untamed, and free.
Like calls to like, a burning brand,
soul finds its soul, hand in hand.

In her face, buds unfold,
A painting new, a story told.
Colours danced, unheard before,
Woke the studio's sleepy core.

Red wings lifted, dreams took flight,
A lost star in the darkest night.
A perfume trapped, a scent untold,
A beauty hidden, growing old.

From what nectar, what divine grace,
Did you conjure such a face?
This rounded mouth, a crimson bloom,
Banishing shadows, chasing gloom.

With drops of blood, a vibrant hue,
Tulips, roses, shining through.
Jujubes sweet, and berries bright,
A dimple winks, defying light.

How long you toiled, with patient hand,
To mold this wonder, understand?
Tired Creator, rest your eye,
These secrets lips will never cry.

Let the illusion hold me fast,
Within the spell her lips have cast.

Soft lines draw me, slow, unchained,
Your hips that call, my hands restrained.
The hollow throat, the ******* that rise,
Full moons that darken eager skies.

Your skin, a canvas, flushed and bare,
I trace its heat through breathless air.
I long to taste, to press, to part,
To lose myself where bodies start.

Your lips, wet fire, parted, near,
Invite my hunger, raw, sincere.
I drown in you, no space, no name,
Two shadows burning into flame.

Wind whispers low, a gentle sigh,
Life's sailed away, I don't know why.

Love's faded hue, a ghost of red,
Dreams still bloom, though hope seems dead.

Closer than close, a hidden grace,
In lonely dark, I find my place.

Night's bitter sting, a cruel deceit,
I walk in quiet, my path to meet.

Wound walks with me, a constant friend,
Pride's strong red will never end.

We were lessons in disguise
you taught me never to trust,
and I taught you that when a feeling deserts the heart,
it never finds its way back.

Not ink on paper, pale and neat,
But air alive with music sweet.
A scent of blooms in sunlit haze,
A floral song for all our days.

A gentle place, a warm embrace,
A haven found in time and space.
A longing felt, a need so deep,
Where weary hearts can softly sleep.

A world unfolds, a vibrant hue,
A magic waits, just for you.
Open your eyes, and let it be,
A wonder whispered, wild and free.

It is the wine of union,
poured by the Hidden Cupbearer.

Two bodies dissolve
like salt in water, like flame in flame.

It is prayer without words,
ecstasy without end, a door where the soul slips out of its cage and falls into the Beloved.

Some call it sin, others call it God but the taste is the same: a burning that makes us whole.

Truth is an arrow
it pierces, yet purifies,
leaving the wound clean,
a scar that remembers,
but does not deceive.

Hypocrisy is an ointment
it soothes, yet poisons,
numbing the pain,
covering rot with fragrance,
a sweetness that kills.

Better the cut of truth
than the kiss of lies,
for only what bleeds
may one day be healed.

She gave me words I could not catch, a tongue of winds and waves, yet to her shape I long to bend, to her silence I am slave.

Celtic is her language,
and mine cannot reach her song. Her face became my tempest, my anger, sharp and strong.

Yet to that face I’d gladly kneel, a pilgrim at her shrine
but first my hands must learn her skin, and make her body mine.

A narrow life I tread,
a path so worn, so thin.
The walls press close ahead,
and tear my soul within.

The sun burns bright outside,
on fields I may not roam.
My heart can scarcely hide
its aching call for home.

A home both wide and free,
where roots take hold, then grow;
where I may simply be,
and watch wild seedlings sow.

O words, you kiss before the lips,
a trembling heat, a slow eclipse.
You press the skin without a hand,
a secret tide, a hidden land.

You slip between the ribs unseen,
where hunger wakes and hearts convene.
More supple than a lover’s hair,
more naked still than bodies bare.

You moan in breath, you sigh in song,
you linger sweet, you burn too long.
A nerve’s caress, a bowstring’s hum,
you strike me deep, I come undone.

O words, unlace me, seam by seam,
make language flesh, make silence dream.
To walk unclothed within your fire,
and taste the ache of full desire.

Even if your body melts into mine,
if every curve and line has found its mirror,
still I would murmur:
Pull me closer.

For desire is a fire that refuses boundaries,
a hunger that drinks even from fullness,
a kiss that aches for its own echo
again, and again, and again.

The crow perches on stone and calls it a summit;
the falcon rises, carrying the summit in its wings.

The word lover clung like a borrowed coat,
tight at the throat, a choking note.
A name too small, a mask too worn,
where daylight dulled and night was torn.

But my body burned another song,
beneath the sun, the moon’s throng.
A hunger sharp, a tender sting,
when love was caged in spoken thing.

Then you appeared
your hand a flame,
a silence tearing through my name.
Through wandering tongues, through shifting skies,
you struck a lantern in my eyes.

Not "finger me", so brutal, bare,
but feel me breathing in the air.
Not "eat me out", that hollow cry,
but taste me where the dark stars lie.

Not "**** me", thrown into the night,
but **** me "God" till it’s a rite.

Your words, like threads of molten fire,
wrapped me hard in raw desire.
A temple rose, not clean, but true:
I opened whole, I opened new.

And oh, my God
what filthy love can do.

First sip, warm sunshine.
Drawn from love, a tender breast,
A sleepy, peaceful, infant rest.

Milk sweet wine,
Years blurred, a fading line.
Old age now, a hazy gaze,
Lost in a forgotten daze.

Milk sweet wine,
Life's journey, intertwine.
Still drinking deep, though senses sleep,
A final toast, secrets to keep.

A rhythm stirs, a whispered plea,
When hands entwined with you and me.
He dances, swift and light and free,
A language spoken, wild and glee.

Uncommon words, a vibrant hue,
His movements paint a canvas new.
From sheltered arm, a gentle shove,
He lifts me high, to realms above.

A fluffy cloud, a soft embrace,
Where sunbeams fade, and shadows chase.
And then, the heavens weep in tears,
Black rain descends, dispelling fears.

Within my eyes, the torrent falls,
A cleansing shower, soothing calls.
He carries me, a fragile thing,
Where joy and sorrow softly sing.

Through swirling mists, and skies so vast,
He holds me close, a cherished cast.
A whispered promise, soft and low,
Where love resides, and shadows flow.

The white shirt whispers secrets low,
Of curves and shadows, soft aglow.
A hint of blush, a tender plea,
For lips to find what eyes can't see.

Red paint upon a whispered vow,
Invites a touch, right here and now.
A promise held in crimson bright,
A burning ember in the night.

Dark lines frame a gaze so deep,
A siren's call that lulls to sleep.
A hunger stirs, a wicked game,
Where souls are lost and hearts aflame.

No words exist to paint the sight,
Of fabric clinging, dark and tight.
A silent language, bold and bare,
A challenge whispered on the air.

Her voice, a flame that dances high,
Demands surrender, makes you sigh.
A circus trick, a burning grace,
Leaving ashes in its place.

I knelt, compelled by burning need,
To beg for pain, to plant the seed.
No choice, perhaps, or maybe yes,
To taste the fire, to confess.

My lord, pluck out my eyes, for I have seen,
A world of dazzling light, a cruel, bright sheen.
My ears, deaf now, to all the melodies,
For I have listened to the serpent's lies.

I've sinned, my lord, and loved the gilded lie,
And hated truth, with a contemptuous sigh.
A vision fair, a wonderment of sight,
Her song, a siren, stealing all my light.

She sings, and I, am captive to the sound,
My soul adrift, upon a treacherous ground.
Quoth I, a fool, entranced by her sweet grace,
Lost in her beauty, in her alluring space.

So, pluck my eyes, and seal my listening ear,
For in this world, I fear, I cannot steer.
From truth's embrace, my heart has turned away,
And now I crave the darkness, come what may.

You say you love me
yet the question lingers like incense in a ruined temple.
Tell me, why, oh why?

I carved your name into the bark of an ageless tree,
and the tree whispered it to the winds of eternity.
You traced mine upon a passing shore,
and the tide erased me before the gulls had seen.

The rains fall, bearing stories wounded by time;
your name glimmers through their tears,
while mine dissolves into silence.

I spoke of you to neighbors,
and their lamps burned brighter.
You spoke of me to water,
and the river carried me away.

At night, beneath the hidden star,
they gathered to tell your story.
My shadow passed among them,
but no one called my name.

I held the rose you gave me,
pressed it into scripture,
hid it beneath my pillow as though it were prayer.
I gave you a vessel to hold my soul,
and you let it shatter into dust.

And still you say:
“I love you beyond all speech.”

If love is so vast,
why do I stand nameless at its gate?
Why do you love me?
Tell me, why, oh why?

She says, "All men betray,"
a curse she hurls away.
Not every soul she's known,
but one made grief her own.

He was her single light,
her moon against the night.
He cracked trust’s fragile seam,
and "all" became her scream.

One minute after midnight,
I stumbled out of the pub.
A young woman blocked my way.
“Stop,” she said.
“Yes, dear,” I answered.
Then she told me,
“I think you’re the one my heart wants.”
I grinned,
“Look behind you.”
She turned.
I added,
“See? That proves I’m not the one.”
And I kept walking,
thinking maybe it wasn’t wisdom at all
just the whisky talking.

A pillow princess, soft, aware,
her sigh a spell, her breath a prayer.
Emerald eyes, half-closed, half-known,
a feline grace that is her throne.
She blooms by touch, by whispered plea,
a lover’s gift, ecstasy.
Silken threads of longing bind,
a vow half-spoken, left behind.
Beneath the jest, a spirit kind,
playful, daring, yet refined.
In shadows deep her fire grows,
a purring secret no one knows.
Respect her still, with tender hand,
with grace that few can understand.
For yielding too is sovereign art,
a gift of trust, a sovereign heart.
For we are cats—wild, yet tamed,
our longings caged, yet never shamed.
A touch received, a gaze that stays
the princess reigns in softer ways.
And pardon—yes, I am a man.
I learned to cherish all I can:
to honor giving, fierce, forgiving,
by learning well the art of receiving.

Your absence aches.
Your presence calms.
The pendulum between the two
beats the rhythm of my lungs.
You are the air.

Knuckles call the night, the dark throat swells, echoes wail.

Your face, dawn's whisper, shatters this shadowed silence.

Knock, and I am whole again.

Upon whose shoulder shall I rest this night,
In winter's chill, with shadows deep and white?
If warmth departs, and comfort takes its flight,
You, only you, can banish winter's blight.

A whispered dream, a solace soft and true,
Held close within your arms, forever new.
You are the haven, where my spirit's hue,
Reflects the world, in colours bright and true.

You, in my heart, a tapestry of grace,
With roses woven, in a tender embrace.
A love entwined, a bond beyond compare,
Where whispered words, and silent moments share,
A world of wonder, filled with love's sweet air.

Naughty me, forgive the jest,
My magic watch won’t let me rest.
It whispers secrets, sly and sweet,
Of what you wear beneath the sheet.
Yet strange—it tells me none at all,
Perhaps it runs ten minutes tall.
So shall we dance, my daring catch,
To the ticking of my watch
Or let my heart set out the beat,
Where time and reason both retreat?
For both, I swear, make madness true,
And both, my love, now point to you.

My heart begins to stir.
No love, a bucket dry,
A life I can't prefer.

Oh, face so lovely bright,
You're hope's only gleam.
That wine, it calls to me,
A blissful, hazy dream.

Make me drunk and deep,
Let slumber claim my soul.
Let silence fill the space,
Beyond my own control.

If love you have to give,
Then give it, freely poured.
For love's sweet goddess' sake,
Or leave me, unexplored.

To sit, unseen, unknown,
Beneath the jasmine's shade,
Where dreaming softly lies,
A life, gently swayed.

In Cairo’s haze, a café’s glow,
a woman sat, in seventies’ grace
her eyes held oceans of memory,
watching the river of life flow.
Shisha smoke curled like fleeting art,
her smile reached quietly into my heart.
Her face—a map of sun and years
shone with a calm that silenced fears.
“Madam,” I asked, “your secret bright
how do you shine with such pure light?”
She smiled, a whisper soft, concise:
“When ignorance began to rise,
I only said: ‘You are right… indeed.’”
I frowned, still caught in puzzled fight.
“Is that not wearying, endless night?”
She leaned, her gaze like fading skies,
and whispered deep with knowing eyes:
“You are right…”

To turn a blind eye to the hunger of the poor,
then raise for them luxurious temples
where they may kneel in complaint of hunger,
and whisper their prayers to poverty
on thresholds paved with gold.

Hold your secret, soft and deep,
While silent, watchful thoughts you keep.
A human ear, though kind and dear,
Might let your tender whisper hear.

Go to glass, so still and bright,
And pour your heart into its light.
It listens close with silent gaze,
Through all your hidden, winding ways.

No judging word, no sudden sting,
Just quiet truth the echoes bring.
If sorrow blooms from what you find,
That wound is only for your mind.

Inhale, beloved, inhale
the crystal pipe is a serpent’s throat,
its song coils in your lungs.
Inhale.
Spun is a secret name,
a name written on the ash of angels.
Inhale that name.
Inhale the mask they call sane,
and watch it fracture in your breath.
Inhale.
Let the calendar burn
forget the birthdate,
forget the ledger of the stars.
Inhale.
Unfasten the chain of purpose,
loosen the tongue of memory,
let your name fall silent
into the smoke.
Inhale.

You are my Favorite spoon.
Rascal said,
Words so wicked, sweet, and soon.
Rascal said,
With flaming fingers I’ll unroll your hidden pages.
Rascal said,
More, and more
yet some I cannot say.
And I
blushed like a peach split open by summer’s teeth.
Rascal said.

In your soft curves, my faith takes hold,
A prayer breathed low, a tale retold.
Your breath, a hymn both calm and deep,
Sings my weary soul to sleep.
Your nearness stills the storming sea,
Unchains my heart, and sets it free.
My heart’s a garden—your bloom is there,
Dispelling shadows, winter’s snare.
Where your kind feet in silence tread,
The barren earth grows green instead.
This quiet prayer, ten times a day,
To you, my love, my heart will say.

Eyes meet, shadows speak,  
questions coil in tender air,  
truth hides, sharp, unknown.  
Our silence—both wound and balm,  
bridging what we fear to say.

Famous without reason,
Poets without song,
Religious without virtue,
Lovers without marriage,
Marriages without love,
Friends without sincerity.

Appearances deceive
only the essence endures.

Do not be fooled by the paint:
it may please the eye for a moment,
but it can never hide the rust.

Wealth is not in the crowd of faces,
but in the one that knocks upon your heart
before it ever touches your door;
in the hand that rests upon your shoulder
before your sorrow dares to speak its name.

The little that is honest
is a homeland of the soul,
but the abundance that flees
is an exile without end.

She asked me, how would you like your coffee?

I answered:
Black — two spoons, two sugars, please.

She smiled, a smirk dancing on her lips.

I confessed:
Once a fool told me,
“Black makes a man good in bed.”
Time proved it nothing but a myth.

So, dear,
let the sugars remain
to sweeten a man’s heart
and soul.

Hannah
Nathan, you look like a warrior.

Nathan
Yes, dear… though no one told me which knee earns the Emperor's approval.

Hannah
You’re a fool, Nathan.

Nathan
A practical one
I’ve been polishing the ironing knee.

Hannah
(laughs) Of course. That’s why your trousers gleam while your honor wrinkles.

Nathan
When the Emperor owes you his throne, knees are merely decoration.

Hannah
This world is ironic, Nathan
But only for those still pretending to believe in it.

If I gave them sight,
they’d curse the gift,
find shadows in light.

Their hearts are sand
forever dry,
a grasping hand.

I wonder!

So I guard my gaze,
let lashes veil
a fragile maze,
where dignity can quietly prevail.

As if he had broken his promise
and slipped away,
as if eternity itself
had been a secret covenant between us.

“Ahmed, son of all,”
his mother whispered,
then folded her voice into silence
for silence was gentler
than the weight of evening.

O Houriya,
did you not see?
Today the country gathered its sorrow,
and from every house a cry rose
a child carried away,
a child returned to dust.

From birth, a woman dressed in dreams,
awaiting the man
whose touch would discover her hidden notebook,
whose fingers would wander her pages,
fondling each line with tender curiosity.

At last, love arrived
but only for a brief embrace:
not long enough to quench her hunger,
not enough to wipe the dust
from her waiting scroll.

Now the night holds her confessions,
her moans of longing folded into the dark,
her body whispering its ache
to the silence between the stars.

O night, will you grant me peace tonight,
or must I pray the sun never rises?