Two Poems

My lady

My Lady, no woman is like her, ever pretty,
Her face gets red, shy sweet fellow;
Her look shakes me, her deep glance, witty
Before I say a word, she’d know.

I can my love deceive for her not,
Nor can my heart take betrayal
For her sake, for it burns so hot
That my Lady’s love is first loyal.

Thee my blood, fresh, its colour red,
Runs so fast when hears thee utter
My name to thy name ‘until it is read:
The only love comes hidden better.

Nothing, if ye dare tell me, to blame
A late message thy eyes secretly sent
I could but a believe and see the flame
And heavy love made me kneel and bent.

I have only thee to whom I confess
To no church belong I, nor any other sect
My Pure Faith, my Only Lord who thee bless
Both taught us that love is respect.

How many ladies if I could meet,
Tell them the same pretty word,
Here or even away by miles and feet
If my Lady does not symbolise this world.

I saw the planet from pole to pole
I also went to the moon or above
Asking the stars would she be sole
Because the universe is as big as my love.

My Lady, could she help my heart set free?
To tell her my lasting truth is this:
Herself, myself, our love that is three
And the forth and infinity are to be a kiss.



The Truth

She told me the sweetest words I ever heard
Her lips brought, my lips were gird,
My inner heart felt warm inside
When she told me be ready to ride.

A horse without wings that chases the wind
To travel the skies, to take me near to Hind,
To show me there from above where she plays
Her girlish game when she hides, when she slays.

I ran from her once but not now
I came back to her arms, not asking even how,
My end started with her kiss
To begin a journey to fear to miss.

Miss, madam, lady, girl, dear, whatever
Thou, if my heart sinks, my love I would never
Betray thee though my love were lost and confused
My heart, stood for thee, my body had refused.

She told me if men were to be loved, for one thing,
Nor their treasures befound, nor died they for the Ring,
Nor heroes o’ eternal wrath who tried the Light
And great they were to loose but the final fight.

When do men love, d’ they really mean it,
Or but for them love is no longer than a minute?
The truth that she said my lady is the best
That no two hearts can hold my chest.

Fayssal Chafaki