Tanka # 174

My fingers in her hair,
her body over mine,
falling asleep
as the fire crackles
on a winter night.

Free Verse # 434 (she is all the lights)

In your touch
I make transactions
with beauty,
selling each moment
for a veil of your light,
feeling the white
of your perception
shine from my soul.

~

My poetry,
its endless brushstrokes
paint the features
of my face;
look at it,
it has no eyes
but only a silence
with which to gaze
upon the world.

~

When I write
I imagine my fingers
touching her face
the way the moth hovers
around the candle-light,
I feel my hands
dipped in her skin
like oars rowing
in a starlit sea of poetry.

~

Looking at her
the poem tries
with burnings fingers
to describe her beauty,
but then it falls down,
speechless.

~

She is all the lights the city needs.

~

My heart
I feel it connected to yours
by a hidden string,
like night to the day,
like the sky to the earth
and to the rolling sea of stars.

Advertisement

Wandering Thought # 85

The ascetic moralism of religion regarding sex tends to sever it from the sphere of emotions. Sexuality, being repressed, the need for it does not go away, but suffers a degradation and acquires, when it surfaces, an urgency and paroxysm. Much of the modern liberalism in sexuality is precisely such an urgency and paroxysm that does not recognize its origin, is a prolongation of the rift at the heart of the human soul between sexuality and emotion. A man still fighting a ghost who is no longer here.

Tanka # 173 | Haiku # 619

This poem I inhabit…
a world of burning letters
all spelling her name

~

Your hand
I take it in mine
and the world smolders
like a monk in his cell
praying for God

Haiku # 618

This world we live in…
on a leaf in the wind
a shaking drop of dew

Tanka # 172

Your absence
permeates this silence,
a drop of dew
carrying
the light of the moon.

Haiku # 617

Sneaking in from behind
she surprised me with a kiss…
the breezing wind

Tanka # 171

In the dawn
I reach for you,
like a prayer
in endless wisps rising
to burn in the sun of God.

Wandering Thought # 84

The morality of religions that stigmatizes certain acts (or ideas of acts) as sin, obstructs the ability of reason to comprehend the dynamics (emotional, social, biologic, etc.) that are affecting the acts and thus hinders any possibility for true understanding and change.

Tanka # 170

The poem sat quietly
on her shoulder,
perched like a bird
listening
to the silence of dawn.

~

She spiraled
into his words…
a leaf lulled
to drunkenness
on the breezing wind

Wandering Thought # 83

The real significance of the dismantlement of the metaphysical world by the way of Science is that man became isolated and could no longer flow out of himself and find himself rhyming in unity with something bigger and greater than his own petty existence.

Tanka # 169

Night descends,
your shadow dances
quietly in my heart,
swaying to the light
of candle poetry.

Haiku # 616

Smoke dunes…
the ribbons of perfume
trailing from her skin

~

To wander this world
like a bird whose only
nest is the sky

~

The crescent moon’s reflection…
sharper in the water
than in the paling sky

~

Never seen,
only heard,
the high mountain bird.

Wandering Thought # 82

My first poetic awakenings came with a re-appropriation of language as the creative vehicle to re-imagine the world. Language, which was dead, had to be revivified. Isolated in a world in which language had lost contact with nature and the non-human space; isolated in a world in which the human intellect and mode of appropriation of reality purged the latter of any extra-human symbols, reducing the whole world and reality to a set of objects manageable and subservient to human and economic ends; isolated in a world where humanity’s triumphant modern moment, the zenith of history, was nonetheless a cover that masked the deep chaos and anxiety moving at its heart; language presented itself to me, a mere word, embraced imaginatively, was enough to reawaken a world overshadowed and forsaken by mankind, was enough to lift me out of my isolation and back into a conversation with nature and the earth in all its elements, that world which we have reduced to mere economic resources. The poem, in its simple, unmovable presence, was a simple but fateful nudge that moved the internal ocean in me.

Free Verse # 433 (this moment is but a dream, vanishing)

In my love for you
the profanity of my spirit
once more
touched the hem
of God’s soul

~

This moment
is but a dream,
vanishing;
in the mirror
of its smoke
I behold your face,
ever dancing in the wind,
ever warm with grace.

~

Smoke and mirrors,
in this world
I only care to polish
the image of your face.

~

You wander through me
unchanged for eternities
like the ray of light
that shined from God’s heart
on the dawn
of the very first day

~

The music of your voice
comes back at dawn;
like a dewdrop on the leaf
I sit down and listen.

~

Having her here
sleeping next to me,
in the rhythm of her breath
a window opening
onto an endless sea.

~

Beloved, I only have eyes to see you through the window of my heart.

~

My heart burns for you
with the passion of petals
in a tight bud, unfurling,
with the desire of a seed
in the dark soil
feeling all around it
the heat of spring.

~

I am thinking of your voice
and the way it drifts at dawn,
a ray of warm sunlight
through the dewy cover of fog.

I am thinking of your breath
and the way it fills the sky,
starlight from distant galaxies
like dancing snowflakes falling down.

~

Looking through
the dictionary of the winds
for words to describe her,
I discovered the scent
of the jasmine flower
under the summer moon,
little fires of starlight
wandering the tilting sky
early before the dawn,
the words poets uttered
from a wounded heart,
the heated breaths
exchanged between
the merging lips lovers,
the ineffable presence of things
as they enter
the silence of God.

Haiku # 615

Her dark hair
braiding it slowly
to the moving sea of stars

Haiku # 614

L’amour…
cette courbe qui tend
vers l’infinie

~

Between me and you
a distance covered
by the shadow of poetry

~

Trempée dans ses cheveux
la lune s’attarde
à se lever

~

Do secret things to her…
leave your words stained
amid her thighs

~

More lucent still
than the fullness of the moon…
the pages of her skin

~

Plus luisants encore
que la pleine lune…
les pages de sa peau

Tanka # 168

At night
she sends me fireflies
to tickle my dreams
with the plume
of desire

~

I love you
without moderation,
like a river
that knows only
its longing for the sea.

~

Through the window
a ray of moonlight
falls upon my notebook
lighting amid the words
the candle of your name

Haiku # 613 | Tanka # 167

Dans la pluie
qui mouille mes lèvres
je goutte ton nom

~

Dans mes mains
je les acquis,
tes cheveux tombant
comme la pluie
de la voute du ciel

~

Imprégnée de rosée
sa peau de fleur respirait
le blanc de la poésie

~

Dans le jardin,
sous le ciel de l’aube,
sa peau de fleur
imprégnée de rosée
respirait la poésie.

~

Laying in the garden
at the break of dawn,
the flower of her skin
soaking in dew
breathed poetry.

Free Verse # 432 (my poem is a conversation with you)

في لفحة النسيم على وجهي
،أشعر بدفء أنفاسها
،هي التي لم أرها يوماً
هي التي أبحث عن وجهها
،في وجوه النساء
هي التي تفيض من نبضي
صمتاً جارحا
.أعمق من صمت السماء

~

Even in the middle of the crowd
we are always alone
when our eyes meet,
exchanging wordless messages
that rush like waves
into the bottom of our souls.

~

The gray clouds hung low
over the face of the earth;
touching her skin
with the silk of my breath
a moan escaped her mouth;
soon, the rain began to fall
and the rain did not stop;
our breaths merged
and our bodies, soaking in the rain,
caught fire, and burned,
consumed in each other
on the altar of sacred poetry.

~

My poems –
a hive of bees
working in the fields
of the invisible,
gathering silently
the nectar of its flowers,
fermenting
in the vessel of the Word
the hues of its sacred light,
building up slowly
a dawn burning with honey.

~

One touch from you
is enough
to annihilate me
and consume my life;
one breath is enough
to open up my heart
to the vastness of the sky.

Your existence elevates me,
lifts me out of the cycles
of pleasure, change, and transience,
rooting me in the stillness
of eternal love.

~

My poem
is a conversation with you
who inhabits a world of light
unseen by my eyes.

~

Caché à mes yeux,
je te vois avec l’œil de mon cœur,
et ton visage qui est
partout autour de moi
me réchauffe tendrement
avec la douceur et la passion
du vin éternel,
du vin bu
à la table de Dieu.