syafiq syahmi

Come my friend,
join me beneath this breathing tree,
and sit on the crispy grass,
smother yourself with its scene,
...

My life was full,
and had completed it course,
I left all my dreams,
fulfill and un-fulfill,
...

On a yellow chair I sat,
heavy I am with the burden I bear,
No more real it is than just a load on my shoulder,
but it is something I would honour,
...

Never to forget,
a neverending rythm to be played,
heavily danced by the rain of blood,
and shall I run through it,
...

Such somber doors,
longing to be opened by such deserving angel,
O fair maiden of beauty,
a thousand thanks for that single touch,
...

There was never that something,
of you, me and them are fighting,
what it is and is nothing more,
of created wisdom and ideal chores,
...

Do tell me,
if my words are just but metaphor to you,
meaning nothing in a solemn way,
stretches upon me are scars of unwanted words,
...

'Shall we dance my love? ',
to the beauty of this symphony that never end,
we shall be like a lovely couple of dove,
as we spread our white wings among the crowd,
...

There was a lovely daughter,
an obedient child never to say no to his mother,
guarded direly by his father,
but lonely she is with no sister and brother,
...

The lights intense,
the crowds are roaring,
the stage are set,
the night was right,
...

A dark gloomy day,
with vines of death slithering among us,
shall it be this my last poem to be wrote,
for I no longer can stand on this lonely road,
...

Feeding the life from yourself,
to the undetermine mind of a single-handed murderer,
handicapped in a relapse sense of nature,
it will be an honor to guide that man,
...

Have not you heard of the disfiguring lies?
so true it is that that even our soul denies! ,
so far the phantom jovial of reality and life to be,
...

Is it true?
of what I heard from you,
that used to be O sweet mouth that spoke,
...

Fallen leaf of a forgotten tree,
blossom in my heart does the flower grows,
unstoppable,
the cherish it bring to my dear smile of hopeless fear,
...

The jungle screamed,
as the people marched on,
she was a pure maiden,
a gift from god,
...

Such beauty of a night!
be toast by drunken poets
it's beauty are the sound of bad poems
...