Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, Translation: I don’t know nor you, the eternal mysteries

I was enjoying reading poems of Omar Kheyyam. The copy I hold has translations for 5 different languages besides the original Persian. I didn't like the translation for English, because I believed it doesn't transfer the real meaning. So I did my own translation to English and share it here for my blog followers. Kindly … Continue reading Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, Translation: I don’t know nor you, the eternal mysteries

Just Breathe

The Cooking Writer

horse two

She sits under the weeping willow,

it’s tears surrounding her in sorrow

She wanted to preserve her heart,

keep it from the pain of loosing another

For now all she can do is just breathe

Her eyes scan the open meadow,

it was secluded, no one to comfort her

She wishes to be happy,

have some kind of deliverance from her broken heart

But for now all she can do is just breathe

Must she sustain this misery?

Can her heart be plentiful again?

Will she find another love?

She slumps to the cold damp earth

There were no tears left,

they had dried up like a summer drought

She tries to just breathe

Suddenly she feels another  presence

She  looks through sadden eyes,

wondering if her prayers have been answered

In the distance she sees something,

is it him or an illusion?

She waits as the figure gets closer

View original post 69 more words


The Cooking Writer



you don’t know me,

but I wish you did

my heart will be unsatisfied

until I make myself known to you


one simple word,

but I’m unable to speak when I see you

my legs fail to move, they want obey

all I can do is stare


you’re so handsome

your dimples make me smile

our bodies  would fit together like a puzzle

the sound of your voice is like  music to my ears


I know you see me staring,

the want in my eyes does not lie

Do you feel the same?

Do you want me too?


I close my eyes and I see you

we’re arm in arm,

your lips teasing mine

you’re undressing me with your eyes


one simple word I have decided to say

all you can do is turn me away

I put one foot in front of the other

View original post 41 more words

Rosy red

My Screaming Twenties

The colour of my smile

isn’t the rosy red the fairytales

said it would be.

It’s smeared clear lipgloss

and the salty taste of tears.

It’s yellow, blue or every shade

breathing within a rainbow.

It’s pulled taut, barely shown

or the pearly-white gates on judgement day.

It’s good enough – rosy red or not.

It’s good enough

to be any colour I wish

my happiness to be.

In response to day 6: the colour of ______, #onceuponaseptember

Photograph & poem:© Kristiana Reed 2019

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

Available internationally

View original post