creative-writing, Poems, Poetry

The Girl with Ouija Board

Dark sinister whisperings
rouse my soul up,
‘Every Tongue has a demon
buried within its veins, for
it gives birth to thirst,
lust and blood.’

She told me before sleeping.
Archaic hymns, butchered lemons
drowned in vinegar, disappeared behind
a mist of lavender smelling candles,
apexed at pentagram made of saffron.

I feel her curves turn cold,
the lips turn ominously black,
‘Eyes are windows to this world,
darkness is the passage to all other’
she keeps murmuring,holding my hand
till it is not she anymore.

I could sense it the way my hands are touched,
the way she removes her clothes then
and the way she kisses.
She never told her of her fetishes
and now I can’t even ask.
Ever.

– SB

Life, Love, Poems, Poetry

Haibun -I

fiction and poetry, Love, Poems, Poetry

Prose – I

creative-writing, fiction and poetry, Love, Poems, poetry

fiction and poetry

A Room with No Music

I swallow a room in my mind,

to digest its origins.

Its woodwork churns and mollifies,

I could feel my fingers full of sawdust and laughter,

lost handprints(possibly mine), from the dying

furniture and the floor caress my head.

You will always find a way to meet yourself,

once you are forgotten by everyone.

The lights are turning dim,

I do not know, how to serve light in a tall glass for myself?

Can you teach my fist to hold sands of darkness?

I shall learn somehow, to sprinkle when necessary.

You can learn anything, you want.

But remember to put off the light in the end.

The garden screams with its emptiness,

and my eyes could bear the shrieks.

Is this is how I forget your touch?

Without music? Without sleep?

SB

creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Poems, Poetry

Balance

There’s a motionless tree
And there is another one coming forward,
A river of trees
Hits my chest

This green surge
Is good fortune,
You are dressed in red
You are
The seal of the scorched year

The carnal firebrand
The star fruit.
In you like sun

The hour rests
Above an abyss of clarities

The height is clouded by birds
Their beaks construct the night
Their wings carry the day
Planted in the crest of light

Between firmness and vertigo
You are the only
Transparent balance

I need sometimes

creative-writing, fiction and poetry, Life, Poems, poetry

Forget

I kiss every sparkle of light

with my dark pupils:

A river smelling of forgotten touches

can only be cold,

my blood can only hold a limit of warmth

in every dream,

A little more

and my heart shall melt,

like the sun who devoured fire,

just to forget,

the kiss of the seas.

– SB.