I Have this Garden of Poems

full of flowers that bloom
at first
and then carried away with my greenthumb
i planted everything
trees and more trees and shrubs and bamboos
and vines and hanging plants

almost everything
and so the blooming flowers died
and the grasses diminishing like some
hair of this baldness

but nothing is lost in this garden of poems
the birds came and built their nests
some are still coming
every morning
and then the chirping begins



Hopelessly bound
by the chains of love's grip
- greatest gift,
fate's cruelest curse.

Wherefore do I weep
at knowing the joy,
the warmth,
at feeling the peace,
the fire.

Wherefore do I weep
unable to complete ,
to be,
unknown the kiss,
the flames.

Wherefore do I weep
at loving not living
seeing not touching
breathing not sharing
holding not loving?

because I, The Fool,
am no more?

by Christopher

1 comment:

Mohammed Imran said...

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