Beloved flame, my faithful, fearless, fiery flame,
No fleeting face can steal the light I claim.
Your light and shadow guide my night and day,
Though distance tugs my heart to drift away.
If ever faith should falter, love would break,
Yet though you turn another path to take,
If silence falls, the bond dissolves to dust,
My arms remain a harbor you can trust.
And when at last our parted souls unite,
Like rivers drawn into the waiting sea,
I'll meet you in the tender, fading light,
And greet the dawn that sets your spirit free.
Though kingdoms crumble, stars themselves may flee,
Love's golden key unlocks eternity.
Don't forget to say goodnight
'Cause when you do my world seems right
For though the bed bugs may not bite
Without it I just won't sleep tight
A nice long trip to dreamland waits
And your goodnight unlocks the gates
Of all the dreams it generates
Big snowstorms are my favorites
Far from the homeland, when lips part to speak,
This Persian candy works wonders, magic unique.
The spell of Rumi’s verse, of Hafez’ deep art,
In distant lands, it uplifts every heart.
A potion of love rides this caravan’s crest—
Saadi himself boasts of its charm manifest.
Open your eyes, and at this threshold stay—
The Masnavi begins to tell your tale today.
Yes, the key to the treasure of bliss is our tongue—
Rumi unlocks his vault where legends are sung.
The world is our homeland, in this unmatched place—
Our Persian speech bestows us with grace.
One who showers her pure love
And fortify me
Unlocks her doors of affection
And makes me glee
Is my mommy…
One who has a heart of gold
And gives me confidence
Who shaped me like a clay mould
With her velvet tenderness
Is my mommy…
One who has a back breaking job
But still smiles freely
Whose eyes are always sparkled
Seeing her dream in me
Is my mommy…
Even moon has scars
But she is pure as glass
One who is like flowers
In vast green grass
Is my mommy…
One who always sees me with affinity
Even if I am like pest
A beautiful soul with no cruelty
Is my mom which is the best.
I am grateful to God for such a precious gift.
Candle glow at midnight,
The hatch is locked
A scrambling splutter
As I reach for the key of circles, bolts and lines.
But just as before. The circle ends 4 corners behind
And I'm scrambling again for another key
I plead the glow;
It flickers as I-
Well, I,
I cherish my existence once more
As another circle starts to grow...
My foot taps to the humming,
Blood rushing under my skin, I'm thrown to the couch–
It's way past midnight. Immobile, so I curb the corner.
Did I feel the end?
For better or worse, the hatch unlocks, no key.
My head tilts, and
I can't seem
To keep the colours uniform again.
I spiral to only splatters of *pink* and *green* caressing the wall
Overwhelmingly.
Please, don't, love.
But I do, do I? FOR WHAT PURPOSE?
I plead once more.
And become void, I hate. I hate. I hate.
But only pink could resonate.
She hummed a tune of moonlit grace,
soft as whispers through the trees,
each note a thread of ancient tales
woven on the breeze.
Her eyes held storms and lullabies,
stars tangled in her hair,
she beckoned me with crooked grin—
a dare hung in the air.
“Tell me,” she said, “a tale of hearts,
of wishes never told,
a secret born from silent dreams,
or memories gone cold.”
So there beneath the silver leaves,
I let my story flow—
of love once lost, of hope still bright,
of things I longed to know.
She listened close and with a smile,
she whispered back to me:
“Every story told in truth
unlocks a hidden key.”
Then with a wink and flurry flight,
she vanished in the dew—
and left behind a shimmered word:
believe, and it finds you.
I'm not in love with her; it's more than that—I'm haunted.
Every time she looks at me, I feel the Earth tilt,
gravity trying to pull me closer to her.
She's not just in my thoughts; she is their architecture.
I no longer dream; I merely relive conversations we never had.
I replay her words as if they were sacred relics, even when they're mundane.
She could say "pass the water," and I'd write a dissertation about it.
It's ridiculous, I know it's ridiculous, but that doesn't stop the magic.
Her name has become the password that unlocks my impulses.
I see earrings and wonder if she'd like them; I imagine her everywhere.
She doesn't ask to reside in my mind; she's conquered it without remorse,
and I let her, smiling like a fool as she changes my logic.
I've lost count of the attempts to shake off her spell,
but all it takes is a glance, a word, a smile, and I'm caught again.
She's not a habit; she's a phenomenon, and honestly, I don't want a cure.
She hasn't destroyed me; she's redesigned me, and I've loved every second,
every moment of my inner demolition and reconstruction.
Each year I make the matzoh balls,
Which come out pretty good.
My husband cooks the chicken soup;
Our roles are understood.
He always wings it when he cooks,
Just uses what’s on hand
And never needs a recipe,
Which I can’t understand.
I follow the directions
When I cook or when I bake
And measure the ingredients
So there is no mistake.
My time-worn recipes are stashed
In cookbooks or in files;
The drips and spatters dotting them
Evoke nostalgic smiles.
Yet always for the matzoh balls
What has the most appeal
Is the recipe that’s on the box
Of any matzoh meal.
That’s up until this year – there was
No recipe at all!
I Googled and saw dozens,
But not one my matzoh ball.
Until I saw a posting
From a woman who, like me,
Asked if anyone could help her
Find that box-back recipe.
Voila! Someone responded
With a picture of the box.
It’s amazing what technology,
From time to time, unlocks.
I made the matzoh balls
And hope they’re good as they appear,
But I copied down the recipe
So I’ll be set next year.
The higher you rise
the thinner the air
The more that’s at risk
the less there’s to dare
As oxygen falters
your head becomes light
And looking above you
fear turns to delight
The sun is setting
far over the peak
The summit awaits
whose answers you seek
With twilight retreating
your flag in the rock
You enter the madness
— descending unlocks
(Memories Of Sagarmatha: April, 1981)
Memories float along with sighs,
off-white moths, and butterflies -
and my third-grade teacher, long ago.
We all sat under a mulberry tree,
so a silkworm's dinner, we could see.
Entranced, enchanted ones were we,
growing, as moths and trees grow.
She read the story of Pandora's box,
unknowing what the future's key unlocks
in life's security breach,
but, in childhood's innocent shield,
such wonders were revealed
in the power her tales would wield.
Here's to those who teach.
I am your child, I run to you when you call my name,
not because I have to, but because your voice is gravity,
an invisible thread pulling me home, binding soul to soul,
your gaze, the one that shatters my armor and opens hearts.
I smile not as a conqueror, but as a man surrendering to love,
you have found the key that unlocks the gates of my inner citadel,
you take my hand and lead me on paths that try to turn me back,
I let you, not because I can't walk alone, but because I choose you.
Your warm hands cradle my face, dispelling the shadows from my soul,
when you whisper, "It's okay, darling", the war inside me ceases.
I am a man, bearer of scars, stubborn, and proud,
but in your love, I find a strength that makes force unnecessary.
In your arms, I find a peace that needs no defenses,
and in this love, I discover that true strength
is not in resisting, but in letting myself be carried by you,
for you are the home where my soul finds solace.
It's up
full cup
begins
our grins
believes
gray thieves
think hard
not barred
unlocks
all blocks
and steals
seed meals
from roof
as proof
outwit
with grit
with twists
persists
begins
their wins
cup's bare-
then stare
hope we'll
refill
"In the heart of darkness, the moon unlocks the dusk of starry wishes" ~ Quote by Poet
As stars sleep, the moon sails through lakes of dreams,
tracing sparkling tides of hope,
amidst the ache of grief.
Freedom within LOVE
By: Mallory Schlegelmilch
Vulnerability, a delicate thread,
In the armor of love where hearts are led.
Yearning to surrender, to let go,
Yet the mind holds tight, afraid to show.
A captive of thoughts, a hostage within,
But deep inside, freedom wants to begin.
Love without limits, that's what I seek,
For myself and the ones I choose to keep.
No walls, no barriers, just pure affection,
Embracing vulnerability, with no hesitation.
To open my heart, to let love flow,
To give and receive, and let it grow.
In vulnerability strength is found,
A courage that breaks barriers all around.
For LOVE is the essence, the ultimate prize,
And vulnerability, the key that unlocks the ties.
So, I'll embrace this chink in my armor,
For Vulnerability is a gift, a true charmer.
With an open heart, I'll surrender and believe,
In the freedom of love, where I find reprieve.
Nothing is about us..is it, yet we can feel or maybe hide better than the next,
But what is the point of hiding if we can express those feelings at best,
I've often said it's not me, but then how could I possibly relate,
And really if it wasn't me at all, how could I even partially try to explain,
The mirror shares secrets we bury deep inside,
But are we willing to see our own while we're able to see into their eyes,
The openness to share is a daring door to open,
Because it is the key that unlocks answers to many of the hearts conditions.
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