Poets, like
madmen and prophets,
are banned from
the Kingdom of Reason,
as they are
the progeny of the sun
(the sun who illumines as he blinds)
and the siblings
of the rays
who never tire
of beating
the world into
magnificent new shapes
that fascinate us
all – including
Unwavering Moon whose
lonesome secret is to be
madly in love
with the rainbow.

© LazharBouazzi, May 26, 216

The little girl
wearing a Navy blue dress
with a white collar
and black patton shoes
holds a red
helium balloon
as she walks down a path of clouds
through the vast wilderness
of space and time
representing life on overtime
a second home on a lake
a souring career
living with a man she is married to
but doesn't love anymore
and may never have
sings the song
"Twinkle Twinkle , Little Star"
and she is wondering
just how far

been pecking the pole since the forties

we think,

how delightful.



yet it must be changed and moved

in case it falls down, what would we

do then?  he asked.



i decided not to think about that, and

rejoice in the creosote

of the new thing.



may be the woodpecker will

too?



sbm.

I'd befriend the obsidian sky...
   I'd shower it with a bounty of praises.
  So that it'll welcome my nightly gaze,
     without threats from overbearing clouds.

     I'd impress the twinkling stars
       by serenading them with songs unheard by most.
     So that when the time comes,
  they'd cast their votes in my favour.

I'd whisper to the nighttime breeze.
   I'd cavort and giggle at its slightest touch.
      So that when I fly my flag,
   it'll catch it in full billows for her to see.

Then finally...
  I'd woo the twilight moon...
     For she is the prize
   my heart had sought to pursue.
    I'd court her
      with the fiercest blaze that burns within...
     In hopes that she'd forever
   remember me as the suitor that had
fallen helplessly.

Fill the basin
To half full
Cram the dishes
Into the white soapy
Bubbles and very hot water

Too hot for hands
And dish clothes
Wait, write a poem

Have a cup of coffee
And pat myself on the back
For doing three things
All in the same bunch of moments

What can be said
You dig in
Oh, water's still too hot

Pour myself
Another coffee
Contemplate the state
Of the unkempt Kitchen floor

who knows which hour it starts,
which minute, rhyme or reason.
breaking of rules,        our hearts
open.                         split a season.

on spring,                 slight chance,
light            or prayers can change.
sons      move in a prouder stance,
yet others rage.

black bird sings   early
the same bird calls late.
sense that nearby
one year came straight.
spring slides. the
moon draws tides.



sbm.