Senryū VII

I think we can all agree that loving the moon makes you automatically a certified academic.

The Poet Beyond

I’m sorry I’m not a poet

Though I masquerade; I flow it

My pen moves too often when it is not my hand.

Indeed it is my fingers, but those lines were not my land.

There is a writer, beyond my view.

And they supply me with poems that are new.

I wish to pen, wish to spill

But my mind sits empty, despite my will.

And in moments as such, when I have the need, but not the ink

The Poet beyond my eyes offers me his drink.

And so he lets me steal from him a rhyme or two

In hopes it unlocks one of mine, in time, or a few.

But often I walk away with the whole work, and he knows it.

Because though I may want to be, I’m sorry, I’m not a poet.

Senryū VIII

I watch the world burn

through a shattered glass beneath

darkest depths of fears .

-t.f.s.

“I like the night. Without the dark, we’d never see the stars.”

— Stephenie Meyer, Twilight

Живеем в неглижирано време където всичко е далеч от слънчевите лъчи на съзнанието. Разумът е сложно отделение , лабиринт в който потопяваш ръцете си и цялата си енергия , фокусът който те поддържа буден.

Да търсиш онова което ти прилича на твоето , на собствено щастие , което идва от теб , не от други фактори или лица. Да оставиш времето да лети сякаш досега е замръзнало , затворено в хладилник на вечността .

И още се питам , за какво ни е нужно да неглижираме малките жестове , хубавите галещи ни зад ушите думи , които дори оставят следи във вятъра и сякаш шептят като ехо ,

лицата с тези топлещи усмивки , сякаш светът има друг лик , друг необичаен вид красота. Защо?

Защото можем , защото се крием от истинския смисъл на живота. И един ден той ще ни намери скитащи в някой ъгъл на уличката.

To Forget.

If I could kiss

the deepest parts

of your unforgiven skin ,

holding on tight to

your storming charm

is what can't be resisted.

There is no cure

for your ocean eyes ,

and how you see me

in colorized motions ,

all alone , longing to

taste your feelings on

the tip of my tongue.

-t.f.s.

Her heart could drift away

because home' s her place

where she took care

of her heart that stood and stared

at the little things hidden behind

a laugh , startle in the night ,

every starlight in her sky

showing there's love

in anything she does ,

so she whispers

secretly , smiling

to herself

"I'm the best"

and back then

she never regretted

the magic she possessed .

-t.f.s.

Yet another poem about emptiness and how to see it in a new way.

Flowers are growing outside of her soul,

she shivered like she's lost control-

she, a beautiful chaos reaching the light,

inside her features there is no time to die.

Human like her could tastify a God like me,

lost in her discovers, i'm in love with paradise.

-t.f.s.