Alfred Booth
















Four ghazals for "The Ghazal Page"

alfred booth














some always run aghast, against the flow of time

sweating and convinced there is never enough time


to scribble a note to a friend alone and in need

priority lists will scream not to taunt the essence of time


and he, alone to survive cancer's temporary quake

ballasted in exile, battling see-through ghosts, struck by time


and he, face bright receiving rare gifts of gentleness

abashed by the idea of begging to share another's time


I,  the poet, will find little solace if you pen a flourished

sorry, you deserved more than a morsel of my time




ghazal in need of a timeless title











I want to describe myself like a painting

that I looked at, closely for a long time, painting


each tiny detail again in my mind, each nuance

each brush stroke, engraving a new painting


on the oldest canvas of my memory, to transform

a dream, brighter and animated, a re-painting


of emotions beyond my waking hour, shivers

to remember the moment of your painting


that portrait of my youth, the piano, Chopin

a still-life that my greatest sadness is painting ...




ghazal for an emptiness

Opening words from Rilke´s Book of Hours: Love poems to God









dear you: I crave emptying the delta of emotion

to bridge the river of our love's flooding emotion


dear me: this missive of pain cannot be dammed

up over the ever-intensifying swell of your emotion


dear you: love´s bomb made us blossom like pretty

and unexpected dandelions, not the roses of emotion


we both deserved, then we paralyzed Venus (dear me:

such words empty our well, no rebound for emotion)


dear you: I dreamed of orchid filled forests, sunset

colors at noon, festivals of song, as your naked emotion


invaded the orbit between us like Joan of Arc

championed her invisible voices, sure of their emotion


dear me: perhaps the planets cycling like swans

courting carried too much overtly perfect emotion


you never spoke out ... dear you: I can´t pinpoint a simple

I love you, keeping my head above the waves of your emotion




ghazal for lovers in a black hole













deep inside a pleated origami fold

are the secrets I wanted to fold


away from daylight and moon's caress

safely tucked behind your shadow's fold


there a box wrapped in daily news print

holds pages of your letters, love to unfold


their creases revive each second, timeless, a tango

 in the welcome of your arms where I did fold


you, forever groom, wedded to tomorrow's smile

as death waits, into these last quarters I fold




ghazal for all the little notes we keep





Alfred Booth is a classical pianist, a teacher, and when he is not folding origami, he is writing poetry. He is an American ex-pat living in France since 1980. « Recognition is what makes the soul dance. »