Suspicion, the strong spirit that deastroys love
Is usually the brew of a lonely heart
Deeper than abyss
Concoction of strange imaginings
And absurd cravings
Dashing to and fro like a devil
Desirous of selling some cheap
Bloody wares
On the thoroughfare of fanaticism
Patronised by only souls
Besotted with affection
Suspicion, a recurring mental mirage
Creation of vapourous random thoughts
Bent on protecting porous devious dreams
Hatched in the incubator of personal desires
That run contrary to reason
And so must we debar ourselves from entering
This torture chamber
For true love believes all things.
(c) Chris Jibero.2011.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
well said, Chris, ...nice poem...10