Haiku # 467

الشمعة المحترقة
لم يبق من نفسها
الا عتمة الليل

~

تحت ضوء القمر
ياسمين بشرتها
اريج يحترق
كالشعر في الليل

~

تحت ضوء القمر
عطر شعرها يفوح
كالشعر في الليل

~

فوق أمواج البحر
نجوم السماء
قناديل ليل ترفرف

Free Verse # 400 (only love)

Across lifetimes
we beckon each other,
two birds calling
from the leafy boughs
as the tree of time
grows and sprawls,
its roots rising
from eternity,
its branches spreading
in the sky of love.

~

His touch seethes the sun in her skin.

~

In his web of words
rocking gently
as the fire of his being
burns her body
to a slow gush,
her sultry water
his cup of wine,
the ink of his poetry.

~

Dawn…
in the white silence
our shared breath,
flowering

~

Her poem
rubs against his fullness,
sultry waves probing
the deeps of his ocean,
her flowers imbibing
the light in his words.

~

Dawn…
her body over mine,
her being in mine
shuddering
as the world is born again,
as from the ash of our poem
we are reborn.

~

The love of love
for which words
are messengers,
vessels carrying
the eternal flame.

~

His touch is not physical
yet it binds her;
his shadow
comes over her
and her ocean
is at the root
of his mountain,
waves unfolding
from her core.

~

Dusk settling…
in my heart the winged
dance of poetry

~

Love sighs and we scatter,
embers in the wind,
our bodies
the dust of ancient stars
catching fire once again,
burning in eternal light.

~

His words in her mouth
a succulent ferment
of a thousand poems
burning all at once.

~

In this transient world only love endures.

Free Verse # 399 (a chapel on the hill)

In a loud world
my heart
is a calm chapel
lying somewhere
on a green hill
where birds sing
and streams murmur
as your voice
inside of me wanders
like incense
like prayer
like the prophecy of poetry

~

Cracks
where moss grows,
the chipped lips
of the cup that once
flowed with our wine,
burned hot with our tea
as we made poetry.

~

Sometimes I touch you
and this touch
swells my heart
in rivers of poetry;
manhood?—
rooting myself deeper
in the sanctity
of this touch,
annihilated as your being
becomes my heart’s poetry,
swimming inside
your throbbing sea of light.

~

A fiery death,
a moth’s death,
in her kiss I feel
the boundless force of life.

~

Poetry has always been a way to polish your face in my heart, to bring its light to a greater shining in my soul, my life.

~

Dawn,
I wake up drowning
in a sea of your sighs,
your breath
a shawl curled
around the limbs
of the world,
its heat
rising from the earth,
raining from the sky.

~

Traversing
the wet ponds of night
her shewolf howl
arrives at dawn,
a tremor shaking
the sea of sleep,
a primal bite
in the flesh of poetry.

~

Her fragrance
an assassin’s knife
stealing through the night,
the fire of its steel
burning against my neck,
blazing the dark forest
of desire and poetry.

~

Her skin absorbs his words
like water the light
as she fills with the glow
of his states of mind,
the wine of his poetry.

Free Verse # 398 (axis mundi)

His roving hands
an ocean sinking
to the deeps of her skin,
shaking from her womb
the stars of the night,
the poets’ dreams.

~

I saw you
before my eyes could see;
and now when I write
I follow in the trail
of that sacred knowing,
that ancient memory.

~

The syllables
of every written poem…
crimson sighs melting
in the light of your eyes

~

Axis mundi…
the ray of light
turning in her eyes

~

What is the poem?
Something that teaches the man
how to touch the woman;
something that teaches the woman
how to respond
from the ocean of her heart.
What is the poem?
It is the space
between the man and woman
where their longings merge
to annihilate past and future
on the altar of the present,
where their beings incubate
the desire to rise
beyond themselves
and in their hearts embody
the expanse of their sky.

Free Verse # 397 (surrendering my breath)

They made love,
two primal creatures
flung out
from the sea of poetry,
and in the froth of their lovemaking
the sea rose and again
drowned them
in the ripple of eternity.

~

Surrendering my breath
my soul will drift
like fog in the sky,
at dawn and dusk
lacing the earth
with the dew of your name,
the freshness of your touch.

~

You are the presence
inside the poem
drawing me deeper
into the place
where words vanish
and all that remains
is your mystery

~

Always at dawn
your bird at my window
and my heart swelling
with the white of your song

~

My life
a book of longing
burning in the fire
of your calligraphy,
the strokes of your pen
a surf of waves constantly
rolling in my chest.

~

In the poem
I listened to you
and your voice
was the sea of presence
submerging my life,
animating my soul.