Let me be a bird
chirping amid the flowers of your hair,
pecking at the red fruits
grown from your breasts,
spreading his wings to fly
through the heaven of your eyes.
Month: February 2014
Spell-bound
His heart on her skin
a bleeding rune,
an occult river
summoning its endless tributaries
from the dark abundance of her earth
and soaring her,
into the mouth of dawn,
a song of light
raining over the world.
Space & Time, Curved
The waters of love
along her neck curve,
a crescent moon,
a breath of infinite softness
reaping the whole world.
Ruba’i # 12
The Kiss
All life this bowl of wisdom did I fill
With winedrops pressed from reason’s sunny hill
But one kiss from your lips was all it took
For the bowl to break and its sap to spill.
His Poem
Like furrows of stars
his words ploughed through her skin,
fevered kisses along her curves
condensed into burning ink.
حياة الحب
العمرُ عقدٌ من نجوم
مع كلّ رعشةٍ
في غياهب القلب ينفرط
،تنهدةً بيضاء
أنشودة فجرٍ
كقبلةٍ من ماء
،في رحم الموت تشتعل
حبّة شعر في طحين الحياة
تبرعم وتنمو وتزهر
ومن وجهها النديّ أغنيةً
كصوت البحر الأزليّ
.على وجه الحبيب تنسدل
Abundance of her love
The ocean and its waters
and then the sun hugs her
and she becomes the clouds,
she becomes the clouds
and then the wind hugs her
and she becomes the rain,
she becomes the rain
and then the earth hugs her
and she nourishes all life.
Love’s Ritual
Green and lustrous her wave rushes
Into the red caves of my heart
And ebbing, my poem and art
Into her warm womb she flushes,
Within her grows them, in her hearth.
Quatrain # 9
العشق نهرٌ – في الدمِ يجري
غيثه الفائض – من رحم الأرضِ
في سماء الفجر – يذوب ليروي
صحو العينين – في سماء القلبِ
Blow the Winds of Love
Your womb, a seascape, spread before my sails;
Without end I travel, no shore prevails.
Free Verse # 181
Struck by the beauty of her face
Philosophy, falling silent,
Unfurls as the full moon in space.
Letter February 13, 2014
It was simply absurd, the notion that I could outgrow my depression and resentment simply by having a rational discussion or two, or by reading a book. What was required was nothing less than a second childhood, a rebirth, and this gestation is the longest and the most difficult — for it is the true birth, the birthing of oneself from one’s own womb, from one’s deepest trials but also according to one’s highest attainments and aims, to one’s most jubilant joys.
We are only entitled to that which we have earned by sweat and blood, by exerting the entire force of our being; nothing comes for free, and nothing should (the great souls love the difficult and the most difficult—they settle for nothing less). This, and no price is too dear for the honour of owning ourselves, for being able to tie the past and future into a holy ring, resounding into the furthest recesses of existence a thunderous Yes!
Quatrain # 8
My soul to her own mountain rushed,
A river that to the sky gushed
And there grew clean and pure and cool,
And toasting life, danced like a fool.
Poetry is She
Tattooed under her skin
the ink of poetry,
imagery and metaphors
like water flowing,
quivering to the pulse her heart
into endless verses.
~
Her hair was a ballad the wind loved to play.
She danced
She danced
and her skirt
billowed the air
into pure poetry
Quatrain # 7
Alone he stood on the peak
As the world laid at his feet,
A bird feeling morrow’s winds
Swell his wings, caress his beak.
Senryu # 26
laughter,
a blossoming flower
welcoming the sun.
Free Verse # 180 (she was the sea…)
With insatiable desire I sought you,
a dewdrop seeking the endless sea
wherein its boundaries would fade
and merge with eternity.
~
Your kiss sets loose a river of stars under my skin
and each winged word of light
oozing through my pores
sings a hymn to eternity.
~
She was the sea which called his soul to flutter over her endless waves.
~
Under your star
my heart waxes and wanes,
and all the poems it utters
it rubs at your feet,
curls into your radiant hair.
~
Whatever love touches love makes hallow.
~
His kiss within her heart,
a fire fiercer than the flames of hell,
more salutary than heaven’s finest wine.
Senryu # 25
cleansed
in dawn’s waterfall,
her silent face sings.
Concentric
Within the curvature
Of your womb
All my rivers have met
And I became a sun
Exuding poetry
St. Augustine described the nature of God as a circle whose centre was everywhere, and its circumference nowhere. Quoted In Ralph Waldo Emerson, Circles
Rooted in Love 