I burry the thought of writing,
Because I miserably fail to describe
This strange phenomenon
For I feel the pureness of the script
...
This Sonnet is in the popular Petrarchan Form
I behold thy love as beautiful thing,
In my wrecked heart, a pleasure garden,
...
There i stand at the end of highway
Facing the endless bare horizon
That seems to gulp every path and road
Wishing to trace the fortunate means
...
I bought some flowers
Lovely bright
With hue and tint
Blended right
...
His shadow stretches away
Impatiently from him, as
He stood silently facing the
Setting sun on his balcony…
...
They lie there, on the chipped slab
Where no one sniffs its smell
Its beauty does not rouse a talk
Since the dead can't see and tell
...
Brought to this earth by people two
Will be laid to rest by four
The two I know and loved them so
I know not the final four.
...
Feeble sounds of timeless tunes
Flowing from across the dunes
Heard, unheard….in disbelief
I stood there…felt a strange relief
...
His feelings raced to
The pinnacle of desire
Seeking an urgent intimacy
Of his corporeal requests
...
Yes, I want to see for myself
The stern madness involved in
Trying the treacherous, which
You had done with your barefeet
...