To you big eye overlooking my window,
i couldnt go to sleep without saying good night,
and to you precious candles clowing in the dark,
i couldnt go to sleep without making my wish on you.
Before night's hallicination hypnotise me,
i will use my last energy to wish all you creatures of the earth a wonderful night,
as i shut my eyes and follow the melodious sounds of my bed calling me.

Poetry is nothing
but a play on words
that when properly tuned,
will play its melody on your heartstrings.

-bes-

Crescendo the silent beat of hearts in chests
at all things nigh and beauty,
or lovers' eyes locked in stargaze wrest,
on cue as sunrise scarlet symphony.

Fortissimo in birdsong chirp and banter
while car horns blare with careless fervour ;
on pavements listless feet in patter
as suits and ties commute in canter.

At noon the music peaks, forzando.
Soccer mums braced in cafe convo
of lunchtime gossip in staccato
while babes in prams asleep in piano.

On cue at sundown scarlet symphony
the baton slows in rallentando.
Call to slumber twilight melody-
the daily music diminuendo.

We are musical notes
Drifting as waves through the air.
Each of us has a unique rhythm,
A different beat.
We are nothing more than melodies,
Penetrating the ears of those we love.
And your melody is beautiful.
It moves me across the floor
As I dance,
Spinning and pirouetting through voids of happiness.
Your breath is the voice of a bluebird,
Your heart the gentle beating of the drums,
Your ribs the strings of a guitar
And your eyes wilful composers.
You are the song I can't stop singing.

Catching a star, rushing forward the frigate,
Through the storm ahead, the bowsprit of his high,
But ahead all the same abyss without borders,
The desert of black waters in silence of latitudes.

Cracks and groans bom-topgallant topmast,
Chiseling strong ezelgof,
Mars and Ray converged with parrel in battle,
With a dream - to get rid of the shackles.

The wave growls, rolling terribly,
And with the power of the wind jib-boom mast on the beats,
And a low, menacing sound of the cello,
It is suddenly heard from the blackening heights,

That drill groans together with a heavy wind,
The key of the forgotten Symphony are trying to find,
And torn violin strings - moaning times through the centuries,
And killed the brave men among depths.

The thunder storm is rushing with noise, howling,
Shaking stars in heavens,
And the thunder echoes it a disparate,
And the frigate is hurtling on the sails.