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.

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Free Verse # 425 (the circle of longing)

In our hearts
we are not so different,
all of us are a tapestry
weaved of this longing
for something
that never comes,
something
that is always coming.

~

Searching for things
to fill up the emptiness,
the holes crushingly aching
deep within the heart,
I shed my clothes and turn
to the ocean of love.

~

In the land of death
love gave me a new name
but whispered in my ear:
its letters
I alone must discover,
its meaning
I alone must live.

~

The moon’s light
enters through the window
and the circle of longing
is complete,
emptiness upon emptiness
and the aching dust
of so many years
catch fire and ignite –
waiting is over
the candle whispers;
everywhere I turn
I see fire
and feel myself flowing
in rivers to the sea.

~

Cross-legged you sit
watching the burning flames,
and I from across the bonfire
sit watching your face.

~

Through the gap
of a thousand years
you whispered to me.
Since I found your heartbeat
alive in my own heart
I learned to find you
in every moment of life,
in every joy or sorrow.
Beloved,
we are in the breath
of all the lovers
that ever were or will be,
we are their consuming fire,
their calm and shuddering joy.

~

Though imperceptible
it is the most solid reality,
my love for her
is like the wind at dawn
rousing to a wakefulness
the slumbering flowers.

Free Verse # 424 (Who is the lover? Who the beloved?)

She is waiting for him
at the crossroads of a place
where poems converge
with something deep and infinite

~

All night long
holding his poem
against her ear,
an ocean brimming
with the waves
of his love.

~

I opened up to her
trusting her with the fall
of my heartbeats
into her open palms,
of my hands
weary and aching
to course the river of infinity
flowing along her skin.

~

All fire begins
with a single thought,
the thought of her touch.

~

My poem
a ship of fire roving
her infinite waves

~

Who is the lover?
Who the beloved?
In this fragrance
we have dissolved;
no one remains but love!

~

Her poem, overtime,
hollowed my heart out
like rocks being carved
by moving water;
my soul now inhabits
an empty space,
and wherever it moves
her presence
is the gravity vector
rooting it in place.

Free Verse # 423 (reading my books, drinking my tea, watering my plants)

Every night
silence enters my heart
without permission
and fills me with you;
by dawn I am all soaked
in the fragrance of your skin,
the jasmine of your hair,
the longing to taste
the ripe figs of your breasts,
the moon on your lips.

~

I am a wanderer
and you are my journey;
I am a fallen leaf
and my resting place is along
the curves of your road.

~

Now
as before,
alone and naked
in the arms
of lady poetry.

~

Snow in the garden,
people walking
with a little less darkness
inside of them,
the ice shudders
on the running creek
that carries still
fallen leaves of autumn.

~

Every night
silence enters my heart
and I breathe you in,
and I breathe you out,
and I feel you inside of me
a voice of light widening
in ripples that go beyond
the last ring of stars.

~

Reading my books,
drinking my tea,
watering my plants,
the years flow by
and my poem grows
pressed against
your slender neck.

Free Verse # 422 (her light is my blessing)

Could it be that this fire
burning under my skin
is a remnant of an ancient star
that still recalls your name?
That in this star
you and me
burned selfsame?

~

In this life
we love a little,
we dance a little,
then are folded
back into the sky.

~

What I wrote you
during the day
I wanted to read to you
at night,
but you are nowhere to be found;
and so, I’ll whisper it to the wind,
and pray the wind
will find your ears tonight.

~

With every poem
I am making my way to you,
through the loneliness,
through the crowds,
through every day’s toils
and misunderstood smiles,
so I write to make my way to you,
to fill my chest a little
with the breath of homecoming,
to be able to survive.

~

Not much has changed, sister,
my hair is still growing grayer,
our dad is still waiting
to win the lottery.

~

Her light is my blessing;
to touch her is to know
the essence of my heart.

Free Verse # 421 (stay with me)

Longing
is that great distance
which, separating me from you,
reveals to me the boundless
heart of love

~

My poem remembers you
like a drop of water recalls
being one with the sea

~

I write
because I need to feel my fingers
caressing your skin,
because the poem
is my only way
to be with you,
to tell you what I
in my infinite solitude
can tell no one.
I write
because you understand.

~

Que notre sensualité, amour,
soit douce dans sa férocité,
tel le rêve qui anime
les fonds de la mer,
telle la chaleur dans le souffle
des fleurs à l’aube.

~

Stay with me,
the night is silent,
my ribs are cold,
and solitude is a lover
who doesn’t play right.
Stay with me,
the tea is steaming,
the poem is warm,
and love is a flower
that grows in your light.

Free Verse # 420 (something men have long forgotten)

Fervently, silently
I am writing for you,
Words etched
On tree barks
In hidden forests,
Words inked
With burning letters
On the skin of silence,
I am writing to you
As the wind breezes,
As the flowers bloom,
As the trees intuitively
Reach to the sky,
I am writing to you…

~

The night is silent
but I am calling you
with a thousand tongues hidden
in the flame of love

~

Every year the snow falls
and every year as it melts
it flows down the same streams,
and back to the boundless sea;
whenever I write I feel the words
streaming through her skin,
in their flow an ache
to melt deep within.

~

The world within this world,
the source, the primal spring,
the silence rooted in the openness
of the poem’s heart –
I touch your fingertips
and I am there,
I just look into your eyes,
the idea of you
flashes inside of me
and I am there,
a breathless flame
burning in your heart.

~

The poem I’d live with her one day…
all these years together
and every day I’m still learning
the shades of her smile

~

Dawn is on the rise…
again I feel you in my skin
a flooding beam of light

~

Poetry
was whispering something
men have long forgotten –
how to touch her soul,
how to listen to her heart.

~

Writing to you
always feels like meeting you
in that place
where our love first flowered
in the mysterious flesh of spring.

Writing to you
is always a beginning
of something that never ages
but is eternally youthful
in the heart of God.