A Golden Hour / by Nora M. Barghati

6 (1)

The sun
I learned
is good for the soul
I make it a point
to bask in it’s lazy heat
when my soul is soaked
with tears
Its light
illuminates the darkness
and stills my fears
watching a sole white cotton sheet
hanging on the clothesline
swaying in the breeze
I feel my hurt
wash out
as I slowly slip
into a moksha
a state of lucid calm
tender and sublime.

© 2017 Nora M. Barghati (All Rights Reserved)
Image courtesy of Google

Thinking out loud

When writing, like breathing, is of vital importance to one’s being, then the subject matter of what is being created is inconsequential.
The process and the out come, and what they represent or do not represent, are of no significance, as he (The Writer) only strives for the release.

Sanctuary / by Nora M. Barghati

Come on in child
hang your coat at the door
I know you’re hungry
I know you’re tired
have I seen your face before?
Come on in
my dear
nothing here to fear
come on in
grab a seat
pull it close to the fire
warm your fingers
and tired feet
I know
I know it has been tough
my Love
and that you have been walking a long road
your palms of leather
are callused and rough
you have been carrying
a heavy load
Come on in
the night is falling
and I can hear your heart
for a warm embrace
and a tender touch
rest your weary head
upon my bed
It’s not much
I know
small and old
but the world outside
is dark
and people have gone cold
their hearts
covered in snow
As the stars shine bright
bathing your face
in moonlight
I will tell you a fairy-tale
of how love conquers all
and goodness and faith
‘Till in the arms of sleep
my angel
you fall
And while you sleep
I’ll sing you a lullaby
of dreams coming true
by and by
hush my baby
don’t you cry
I’ll be your shelter
I’ll be your home
I’ll keep you safe
I’ll keep you warm
No longer shall you wander
My Child
No longer shall you roam
© 2010 Nora M. Barghati (All Rights Reserved)
Art Love and Pain  by Edvard Munch, also  called Vampire.

Enigma/ by Nora M. Barghati


You wonder,
Sit there and ponder,
Who is it that holds the reins of my words,
Running free with the wild horses’ herds,
Galloping in my mind.
The fall of their hooves,
Like rolling thunder,
Hitting the ground,
And scattering dark red dirt all around.

© 2010 Nora M. Barghati (All Rights Reserved)

Image by Wojtek Kwiatkowski!

A Bedouin Hymn / Nora M. Barghati


My lips
forgotten caravan trails
upon your skin
where throbbing heartbeats
serenade warm sighs
like gusts of Gibli
blown in the desert
serenade grains of sand

In the hidden arcade
where ear meets neck
sheltered in the shade
of amber and gold locks
like dried palm tree fronds
I drown my sorrow
in the oasis of your youth.
Naked and bare
I rise
gasping for air
and there
on the tip of my tongue
lingers a taste
so delicate
so divine
of life’s sweet ambrosia
and love’s intoxicating wine.
© 2017 Nora M. Barghati (All Rights Reserved)
Image Um el Ma desert oasis in Libya