#657

My mind kept asking,
“When will the world be at peace?”,
And, my soul replied.
“The morning after the night,
She and you come together,
Your world will be,
At peace”.

– akylus

#656

If he turns each teardrop
from your eyes
Into poetry,
If you can find comfort,
Nestled against his side,
In the silence past midnight –
Then my dear,
Go with him
It isn’t my happiness,
That’s important to me,
But your’s.
-akylus

#655

You are soft, bewitching and
limitless,
And I love you.
But then, you are also
harsh, fierce and spine-tingling,
And that’s what I think,
Is Adventure.
-akylus

#654

I wonder,
And I question,
I have doubts too,
Yet, of this Im certain –
That it is you, and you
It will always be.

-akylus

#653 – Strolling;

Poetry is,
Where I take you
For a stroll,
But, your home is here
In my heart.

#652; If you …

If you loved me,
As I love you
My dear,
You would throw away
All your fears,
And come to live
In my heart.

#651 – Intoxication;

To the rhythms,
Of gentle flapping,
I soar into the universe,
And then, slowly, very slowly,
Heaven becomes,
Pure intoxication.

#intoxication

#639 – Burning;

Set me,
Ablaze my Love,
And cast me to the night,
And one by one I’ll set aflame,
The stars.

#burning

#631 — Contentment;

Drown me,
In the waters,
Of the Lake Ubari —
Let me live my life for just one
Moment.

#contentment

#630 — Memories;

Ripples
Of your laughter,
Drift in the morning air —
Portrait on the wall, listen, you
Are here.
Chasing,
One the other,
You’re running on the floor
Portrait on the wall, listen, you
Are here.
Giggles,
Silent whispers
Your echo in the air —
Portrait on the wall, listen, you
Are here.
Because,
I can’t let go,
Memories in me flow,
Portrait on the wall, listen, you
Are here.

#memories
5 May 2017

This poem is the first of my attempts to combine and present #cinquain poetry in a ghazal style (last line of each verse similar in all verses). I can only hope it is acceptable to fellow poets and appealing.
My wife lost her battle with cancer three years ago, on May 5th, 2014. She was only forty-two years old. She left behind two very young daughters and memories of her with me. I dedicate this poem to her memories.