Free Verse # 427 (the only home I know)

My poem
only gives sound
when a wind blows through,
and the sound it gives
is always a whiff
burning with her name.

~

You are not here
and I do not know your name
but it does not matter,
this love is still my captain,
it is the sea itself
and the ship carrying me,
it is this road itself
and it is the journey,
it is the softly burning fire
and the only home I know.

~

This world is a tavern,
your fragrance its wine;
this world is a sky,
your light its crowning star.

~

I long to know her heart;
I long to open her
to the eternity of the sky.

~

In a single poem
a thousand nights
of longing burn
aching for a touch
from your lips –
you, my tormentor,
you, my muse.

~

The poet’s words
bring me back to myself,
and always
inside the words
the light of her face.

~

What if the poem
is an astrolabe
attempting to measure
what cannot be measured —
the beauty of her face?

~

Walking
the distance between us,
its length a poem
lasting all night.

~

A girl I’ve never known
has her name igniting
the fire in my soul

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Wandering Thought # 73

One of the greatest taboos of modern feminism is on beauty; that a woman is beautiful, that a woman is perceived by a man as beautiful — modern feminism wants equality here, and by equality is meant sameness, and the infliction of guilt into the soul of the one who perceives beauty.

Tanka # 149

From my pierced chest
the days are leaking…
as I walk
a thin stream of clouds
behind me trails

~

Light foot
I travel to you
wafting
on the sounds
of my beating heart

Wandering Thought # 72

In school we study everything except how to properly channel and engage our emotions, how to mature through nurturing them — and why? because school is an institution that is not interested in shaping us as human beings, but as serfs for the great economic machines. The study of the humanities is subjugated to that purpose. And, ironically, as human beings, as individuals, it is from the humanities that we benefit the most. It is a shame that the most essential and needful ought to be pursued on our own, through our personal effort, without proper guidance, support, and illumination.

Wandering Thought # 71

I can only admit to a divinity that takes pleasure in heightening the individual and affirming difference, one that does not seek to dissolve him in oneness but understands him as an expression of that oneness. The individual grows in power and distinction the more his heart is open to the divine, the more he becomes its channel. He is its unique expression though he already lives in its heart.

Tanka # 148

The candle burns…
with her light
I write your name
on the eyelids
of the night

~

La chandelle brule…
avec sa lumière
j’écris ton nom
sur les paupières
de la nuit

~

The night is silent…
once again
I’m calling you
from a window
in my heart

Haiku # 583

حبال عطرها المنساب
…في صمت المساء
مصيدة في الريح

~

Après la tempête
seules sur la branche
la fleur et la lune

Tanka # 147

Congealed in her poem
a thousand years ago;
her tears
on my lips
wet and burning.

A tribute to Izumi Shikibu

Tanka # 146

In this life
and the next
your breath and mine
woven into
a single nest

~

For gift
she offered me her back,
a page
on which to ink
the flowers of poetry.

Haiku # 582

Midnight walk…
the moon remembers
what I long to forget

Free Verse # 426 (where everything is turning)

Her kiss on my wrist
I felt it melting
a river reaching down
to the bed of my childhood
then rising back up
through my past
through my spine
carrying me into the soft glow
of a flower in the sun

~

When we were children
we watched the bubble
and wondered
how high it would go
before it pops…
seeing your face
my heart swelled
but failed to lift off the ground
– it popped instantly!

~

Like the inside of a wave
where everything is turning –
my mind when I think of you

~

He loved her light; she craved his soul.

~

To her words and silence, to the motion of her being, the energy of her light – I listen and respond from the center of my heart.

~

This longing
has left me bare,
a field grazed
by a thirsty fire
now holding out
a single flower
like a prayer
to your moon.

~

I felt like her face
brushing against mine
could make the whole world
flower;
though I woke up
and it was just a dream
I sensed a faint burning
in the night air.

~

I hold you in my heart
the way the sky at dawn
keeps the echo
of the first birdsong

~

I am waiting for you on the curve of the great unknown that we could meet and together vanish inside the great mystery.

Tanka # 145

Alone for so long
my voice sounds
like a distant wave,
my face is a summer cloud
dissipating without a trace.

Tanka # 144

The moon’s light
shines through a clearing
in the autumn clouds,
the path appears
only to tease my solitude.

~

Since no one will come
the moon’s light
shining on the path
leading to my house
only teases my solitude.