Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin
Whisper lies as I let you in
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail
Why must I hear
the tempting gurgle
Of the life giving stream
A sound wet with promise
Why must I see
The alluring rush of movement
An enticing flow
Beckoning me to immersion
Why must I but lie here
Dying for want of water?
The sandpaper of my lips
Not even welcoming
A tongue cracked
With not a drop of moisture
to bring relief
To assuage the grief
Or parched dreams
My throat constricts
that fail to produce
My skin dry
Devoid of liquid to cry tears
Why Am I here
Beside this life giving stream
Where is the angel
To lift my weary head
And gently pour this water
On my waiting lips
Again and again
Till I’m somewhat revived
To carry me
into waiting watery wetness
Until I am baptized
In liquid bliss
I’m dying here
Here on the edge
I can almost taste
The stream of your love
Forbidden to drink
Forbidden to taste
Forbidden to touch
Forbidden to love
Forbidden to LIVE
Why must I die?
When the water of life
Eileen Manassian Ghali
A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.
One after another they arrive
Steeping my eyes in the world
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.
My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?
Heart of the sea,deeper
than a chasm-insatiable
monster like the
Habouring the wrecks
sunken ships and
treasures,the abode of
Silent but troublesome.
Nereus safe haven and
the Nereids on errand
riding dolphins-saving or
destroying at your will
Waves spread to all
within minutes of your
Heart of the sea,so
vast that a journey on
you can't be
A shimmering rare
Underneath u coldness is
cast into oblivion-a
warmth to the
Heart of the sea is like
heart of a woman-always
pregnant after delivery.
Who can fathom your
(Baron Of Ebullion)
Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell then came the ice, this went on for months.
The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.
They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves. Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday.
as they were called WEEDS ..
The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.
However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .
The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB
I am who I was born to be
Another voice of sanity
Maybe crazy, but do you know?
Art nouveau, in words I paint
Greatness of the pen, this is me
Eternal thoughts into ink I write
Nothing escapes this brilliant mind
I compose for those who see, and those whom are blind
Universal wisdom's, happiness in verse
Salvation or wine, the poison is free
In the meadow is a quiet place
Little creatures run around and give chase
In the meadow were it is peaceful
Little creatures have dreams that are cheerful
In the meadow were the sun some how shine
Little things of nature will combine
In the meadow the wind blows softly
Little creatures get bother abruptly
In the meadow life goes on with delight
Little creatures scurry when it becomes night
In the meadow the grass some how gets tall
Little that we know it makes sounds that call
In the meadow we hear whistles
Little sounds that some times chimes like crystals
In the meadow the water flows
Little things beside the water grows
In the meadow we smell moist grass
Little we know that nature has sass
In the meadow we wonder what will be
Little is what we know about the meadow you see
Gasping for air. . . you strain your neck; stretching..you look around, checking.
Struggling to keep the pace. . . you're movements, fluctuating; you panic, you try floating.
Screaming for help. . . no one is around, you wish for a miracle; you're wheezing, yelp not helping.
Giving, no one is reaching. . . the waves starting to bring you down; you fight, your Will diminishing.
Vanishing. . . your light dimming; They look from afar, will they notice you're drowning?
I do not know?
My Wishes are Simple
My wishes are simple,
my desires few,
to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.
My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,
to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.
My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,
my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,
healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.
FOGGY NIGHT ©
The white orb, saturated with
tidal flows, peers through the
A ghost ship slips up the fog
Night gulls. sing with strident cries
fog seeps in, the tide rolls out,
day is gone, the night creeps on.
Trees, dressed in ebony, drift by.
Water glistens, gold and wet.
Edges blurred night is soft and
tender, damp seeps into cloth,
Tents of light spread over the
Hunters of the sea know not day
nor night, fishers all,
white feathers stark against the
Palm trees, silhouetted in
ochre gauze, black brushes hard
Pilings sway, their waists cinched
Matronly sentinels, the craft finds
the woody bosom.
Butterflies and Bullets