Omar Khalifah

I loved how the longer lines have strong, urging feeling and the shorter ones bear a stillness or kind of calmness. Loved it

They obligate their woebegoneness on me, Their long -term melancholiness, So I lower my tiptoeing, Quit the Quaintness Of the moon and Parch to sleep. But Their chagrin is not part of me,Swaddling through their eyes' brows,They frown- Cutting me with their tarry eyes, Coating my heart with ice But its icicles thaw in one Accidental Snap of light, The solid liquidates, Drop by drop, Till it's all Dried.

"Tranquility" Torrents. I tether myself. And this is not A placid place. I sink in my voices So I can't hear them - their restless noise- The shouting music and her deafening fiddles Tailor a shuck Muting their tongues, Sewing them with rocks, Pebble by pebble And their current Is Cut.

@Michaels Lyric thank you. I think there are few comments because this site is not centered around poetry. So I share my work in different poetry sites and here. Just throwing them out there to whom who ever may be interested to read, it is fascinating to collect varied opinions and see their sights. Thanks again.

@Michaels Lyric thank you for the reading.

My head is, an inch, near a loop Of a hanging rope, A tear is, on a verge of my eye, Upon slipping. My soul is ruggedly drying as an Oat bread Ascending its fragments with Umbel's nectar to The lunar heaven. I begin to swallow my breath, My heart started lisping, my skin prickling With reflections of the day, The noons open their mouths With every mourn lament. I haunt myself down as I usurp death, I took his power when my chin touched The indelicate halter. I am rigor mortis now.

I hug every moment of pain Till they all melt and tenderly drain To the beating seas. I hug them tightly till they tear open And dry their blood reticently In the muted space. I console every moment of despair And mute my Blear till my heart Floats and dissolves. I gulp them drop by drop Till they run through my nerves, Creep from my fingers To the hades.

To suck few drops of nectar out of the sand in the arid desert, While your heart is desperately walking these thirsty days. To chew the rust and let the iron flow into your weak blood. To be tasteless as the water and uncaring as the clouds of February, to hunt the dust and carry the air in your blue hands. To be lonely as the moon and sudden as the lightening. To be so old but yet so young And let the flowers poison you pleasantly. To be stronger than God and steadier than the dots and vivid ultimately. To be soft and yellow, dark but reflecting, azure but so carmine. To be not like them.A matchless gleam, indispensable shrine. To forget this life and talk to the flowers and be insane in your wisest awhile. This is how happiness runs to you and you Elate without the wine.

Pigments of truth hurt the wounds. Hands from the dirt attempt to catch the light and hope is mysteriously rouge. I saw the sun on a blind day. Ribbons of smoke and ashes touch tips of flashes. Beyond the mask are eyes remissly unsighted. This is the moment I penetrate the crevices of yours. A bundle of my heart pulses; kept drowning, a symphony clamors. I saw the sun on a blind day.

I live in an Unreal world. Tongues tenderly tied,thorns growing on my skin and a daffodil budding in my hand. I breathe air-sugar-like. A stilling brain and moon dust, Summer's fingers and heaven of feathers We ,here, surrender to silence and Nothing else till we see God as He is. bushes, Brooks and birds. Forevermore my life stays young And other than green my midows cannot be. The uttering burden parches, We walk the road we chose And one star we pursue. Here it is, a life goes down But another to heaven soars. Timeless this sound,evergreen These branches, a stilling blue This sky -you cannot see grace But I peacefully it can hear- Let me tell you about this place; Here, you cannot speak Only her- everything else. A bracelet of lily, blue paint over the Lids and forehead And you begin your journey Only birds and day never finds his end Except when heaven weeps You may never hurt or be hurt You may never starve You may never die And you may never utter a word You walk the rosey path Till you find the fountain at the end Angeles in both side The sky ,there, is purple You drink from it -Only with your hands- Then your eyes dye azure And begin to see you Abstain not from food But from words ...... Unfinished.

Like summer was ending for me. I stopped harking for the morn's birds As they all were murdered by winter's arrows, And all the leaves and all the dreams Under one cloud. December -a long night- Beside the snow there are fire and Uncertain gleam, A God and Monsters, Red eyes and closed hands. -This is the moment when you take a backward look- But I felt the sun all the ice from the mouth Of the lake unbridling And all the snow killing, All the sorrow, all the accentors' blood. The green gazing at the azure, And a rose in my garden Started to breathe.

Pulses -one dance- then the stars Can be counted. And space measured could be, all life's petals named will be And my scent in your soul Treasured to be. This is the moon and this is me. The world let be forgotten and me Wrap in your wings. This is our dream and this is the sphere. The hope -under the river buried- Too soon to unhand. You will come walking on the stars, In a dance we shall meet. a movie, but characters. And the whole world seemed Unreal. -Yes my dear! This is me-

Should I live? Should I die? And The sun upon my head let dream Of meeting the moon. Perfect, ecstasy so slow,volatilizing To the azure carpet. Disappearing from the old snow, And the river beyond me let flow, And the gray wooden village sink, The broken damsel let weep Upon her white- washed Swain. Blue to green, A wish ,a dream A nightmare. A heart-wrenching calamity. -all so odorless- -all too clear- that all is the same Ascending" something" After hundreds of years, Defined cannot be. At last incurably unkown.

Sugar -like dust- on the pupils of yours. Sun so clear -as the moon will never come- Ever again- You see -see not- The rosey heart Turing white. Lilies on the woody table, A lost feeling - fragments of cake- Something-has left- an apple On the floor. Clouds and stars,life has come back Again for just another dream. And sugar -like the fog- hiding the blue, Till The certain simple little thing-can't be Seen- A scent of mirage, a sound of water flowing Backward. And the certain simple little thing defined cannot be. On dancing feathers you walk, On the bridge of the moon,- smiling- As always has been. -none is so clear-

No tears , no fears , no light, But your heart is gushing sun. Melancholy tune in the dust Covered. And the dreamy tide is foaming Wishes. A scent makes the pluses seen, And every morn a new summer. Eyes as the ocean deep and life-beating As lovers' Not just hoping , but a stinging dream and Sweaty prayers. Not a stilling leaf ,but a growing flower. Glory end and endless nights , a golden Frame varnishing the meretricious picture. The seeking of new ,the sight of the bird, The novel morrow and the spring that borrowed seraphic feathers for his Meadows. Fangled day for us , unused to sow Many a colored rose , many a perfume and Many more...., forevermore.