Tanka # 192

On my table at night
from amid the pages of my book
a crackling sound rises;
a fireplace burning
with the ink of longing.


Her breath
a flower
unfolding its petals
inside the womb
of his touch


The fog is rising;
with dew on my clothes
I keep walking,
following the path
wherever it would go…


What It Means To Touch Her

My thoughts
my breath
my words
melt into her
and I touch her
where she has never
been touched;
I touch her heart
I touch her soul
I light a fire in her blood;
I welcome her darkness,
I embrace her light
and I feel her in my heart
growing deeper than the earth
shining brighter than the sun;
I take her everything,
her past, present, and I future,
and I give her the gift
of my masculine heart:
I open her to God,
I open her to life,
and in that connection
I become a man
living his days
to the fullness of his heart.

Haiku # 649 | Tanka# 191

Her flowering skin…
The moon unfolding
midnight stories


من الفسخ الموجع في قلبي
أتلمّس بأنامل مرتجفة
الضوء الذي يأتيني من وجهها


This poetry –
with every verse
I attempt to say
the intimate language
of her eyes.

Cette poésie –
avec chaque verset
j’essaie de le dire,
le langage intime des yeux
de la femme que j’aime.

Flowers of Eternity

A fertile soil your heart does hold
For a flower inside to blossom and glow,
Nurture it and water it with special care
For the scent of such purity heightens my soul.

Once intoxicated new awareness I gain,
From here on in life a new taste I crave,
A seed from your heart to plant in mine
And find out now what colours it will show.

Strange, a brief moment before the morning sun
Might light your life for the rest of your days,
A little taste of immortality our flowers do hold
For here we remain, even when we are no more.

January 2008.

Letter, October 05, 2019

Lived simply, in deep attention and presence, a life can be so full that its echo reverberates to the stillness of the stars — the garden’s dust on my shoes, a good book, a cup of aged wine, and your face, beloved, hovering around all things like a cloud, their inner light, their intimate aura. I write to you today as the sun sets over another autumn day, as the wind withers away the leaves and grass leaving nature and my thoughts bared down to their essence. Time is moving and life is trickling away, yet a deeper stillness is settling in my heart. It feels to me as though, if I lift my hand, I could almost touch your face; as though the warmth of your breath is mingled with mine. This silence is a prayer. I listen to the wind in the yellowing leaves. I write another poem penned with the ink of your love.

Haiku # 648

His words in her ears…
Seashells divulging
the secret of the sea
A la table du poète
devant l’encrier
songe le vieux papier
Ses cheveux noirs
maison aux eaux coulants
au fond de la terre
Matin brisé
par la brume…
Le souffle de la mer
A l’abri du silence
la chandelle fane
lentement la nuit
Peignant la nuit
le noir
de ses cheveux.
Notre amour
dans dix milles ans…
Etoile sur la mer
Eight to five job…
the bird at my window
teasing with his smile
Haiku pond
the shadow of a bird
passing at dusk
Fallen in love…
The changed color
of her eyes

Free Verse # 440 (one day)

Her eyes were silent
like a book of poems
the moon read
to the earth at dawn


To lover her
is to see them
in her eyes
long before
they unfold
on paper;
the paintings
as they are birthed
in the fire of her heart.


One day I long
to tell you that I love you
in the simplest of ways,
not with words
but with silence,
in the shiver of wind between us,
as my eyes sink into yours
and our souls merge
finding in us a single ocean
to house our dance
with infinite grace.


With my hand on her hip
I love to feel it,
the power of life
as it surges from her belly;
in the silence, alone,
remembering her eyes
I love to feel it,
the ocean of love
rushing from my heart.


As the sun sets
I am sitting here
sipping tea and waiting
for your voice
to rain down on me
from the passing clouds


هي تصعد في دمي كدوار البحر
كملاك يسبح في الغمام
كشعلة محترقة في خشب
ينضح بالنبيذ