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.

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.

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.

Free Verse # 431 (a literature of sacred desire)

The moon at dawn,
to look at it I remember
the image of her face,
traveling from age to age
and now coming to wake
in the stillness of my heart.

~

All that ink
flowing along her curves
in rivers,
and I, the only one
able to read its flow;
but reading
is an act of writing,
and as I read
the words catch fire
and burn into her skin,
a literature of sacred desire
bursting
with the flame of poetry.

~

It’s enough
to touch her with my mind
for the cup
from my heart
to overflow

~

Dusk settles;
my breath,
like the silent fall of dew
infiltrates her skin,
gathers at her core.

Between us,
an ineffable dance
of shadow and light,
a poetry greater
than this finite world.

~

From her face
the knowledge of light
came to me,
came to alight like a bird
on the bough of my heart,
inside to make
its burning nest,
weep through my skin
and into the corners of the world
a song of joy and harmony.

Free Verse # 430 (poetry, poetry…)

L’air
à la touche de mes lèvres
devient la pluie
qui imprègne ton corps…

~

Ever since I walked in your light I knew that no darkness could diminish me.

~

Off the curves of her lips
light, like a wave,
seems to break, frothing,
a song of sweet sensuality,
a silken shawl tenderly wrapping
the heart of the wind.

~

I touch her and she flowers
as though autumn
has been slowly
gathering its fires
of gold, brown, and red
in the sea of her skin.

~

Silence takes me down
to the roots of poetry
and I find them rising
from the sea of your heart

~

At the corner of the street
I am suddenly caught
in the fragrance of a jasmine
stirring from a hidden garden
and all I can remember
is the image of your face.

~

On the good days
as on the bad,
your presence surrounds me
like a stillness in the air.

~

Poetry, poetry…
one more shot to make
this happiness weep
from the fountain of my heart

~

Poetry matures when she is able to live again in her house of childhood joy.

~

This longing in my soul
I live it
the way the flame transpires
into the stillness of the night,
reaching ever higher
into the unfathomable
elevatudes of your soul
even as I burn
into a thinning thread
of laughing ash,
even as I burn
and am no more.

~

We touched
and the sap of ancient roots
rose into our veins

~

She took flight into him
flapping her wings
with the intuition of a bird
who knows his migratory path
home —
she took flight into him,
rooted like a cloud
ever drifting through the sky
of his soul.

~

His touch
rises through her limbs
the way a flame descends
down through the wick
burning into the blissfulness
of her core

Free Verse # 429 (What is the poet?)

What is the poet if not a vampire with a thirst for bitter blood — the fire blood of poetry?

~

My hands move along her skin
like pilgrim birds
with their flight tracing
the eternity of the sky

~

The hidden tangible in her
that with every touch
I aim to invoke,
that I desire to caress
with my mere presence,
the depth of my heart,
the penetrative gaze of my soul;
I dampen her and excite her light
as my focus remains, centered,
on the ground of her being,
her core.

~

I wait for you
on the curve of something infinite
where the sea meets the sky,
in my hand
a flowering branch of jasmine
and a poem I wrote long ago
when my heart was still a child’s;
I wait for you,
my heart the burning pages of a poem
dripping with longing for your smile.

~

Entering my room
through the open window
your breath dishevels
the string of my thoughts
and awakens my longing;
the candle stirs
in her vertical burning
and my palms fill
with the rose-petals of your name.

~

With the night
your ghost comes
to torture me,
a gossamer figure
drawn with a soft fading fire
against the starry sky.

Free Verse # 428 (the keeper of secrets)

My heart opened
and her name
was no longer a ghost’s
but a light
moving through me,
the waves of an ocean
pregnant
with the sun of God.

~

My poem
the keeper of secrets,
its blood
the water of her name.

~

Dangling off
the world’s edge
her feet stirring
in a pond of stars

~

No longer needing words,
one breath from your lips
breaks open the earth and the sky,
one breath from your lips
and I am the universe spinning
inside your jar of wine.

~

All the stars of the universe revolve in her body, past, present and future unfurl their knots from the flow of her hair, each sway of her hips accentuates eternity, painting, individuating this or that, the infinite multiplicity.

~

L’oiseau chante
parce que
dans son cœur réside
l’expansion du ciel

~

Mon petit cœur
joyeux comme un oiseau
habitant les arbres
dans la forêt de ses cheveux

~

La chaleur douloureuse de ton absence
à l’aube surgit dans mon cœur
et laisse un goût amer
sur les lèvres d’un jour
qui va s’enrouler sans toi

~

She let her hair down,
I know because the wind
has carried a ribbon of its fragrance
and wrapped it around my hand,
wrapped it around these words
which I now offer to you.

~

رعشة الحب
وأنا أرتشف الماء
من نور عينيك
تمرّ بجسدي وتتركني
محترقاً كقصيدةٍ
في مهبّ الريح

~

Uncanny
how her breath moves in me
with the freedom of a bird
roaming the sky;
when I listen
I too at moments
become that breath and freedom,
a sliver of the sky.

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

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.

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.

Free Verse # 419 (la rue de ce poème)

Nuit d’hiver,
la rivière dans la vallée
gronde avec
la gueule blanche de la neige,
et moi, dans ma chambre,
assis auprès de la fenêtre,
écoute le souffle de la chandelle
mêlé au silence.

~

In the hush of dawn
I hear your voice,
the light of a distant star
dewing in my soul.

~

Dans mon cœur
je suis toujours
à l’écoute de ta voix

~

Dans la vie il n’y a qu’un poème à écrire, le reste est de la grammaire.

~

Pour rendez-vous je te donne
la rue de ce poème
où tous mes mots
courent comme un fleuve
qui désir se noyer
dans la fleur de ta peau

~

When I write
It is always like this,
I imagine your lips
Drinking the words
Sip by sip,
But my heart
Is the goblet
And my spirit the wine,
And the breath
You take from me
As you sip
You return,
Mouth on mouth
Relishing the poem
Of eternal love.

~

If this love
I did not give to you
In poems I would go mad,
But poems
Can be anything really,
A touch of a fingertip,
A shared breath,
A hike in the forest
As the sun sets,
For a poem, really,
Is synchronicity,
And two hearts open
To the source of love.

~

You visit me
When I’m about to leave
So I change my mind and stay,
But then, as I’m going, you call
And I stop to listen
To what you have to say,
So it seems that my life is nothing
But knots circling your being
In ever larger circles of mystery,
And a listening to the stillness
Of your soul.

Free Verse # 418 (my poem comes nearest to her)

Her fragrance
is a knife
held to my neck,
however I move
I am gone…

~

Her silence weakened me
and I hated it until I learned
it was the only force capable
of revealing me to my bones,
shaking open my truth
on the altar of the world.

~

Let us kiss
until nothing of us remains
except the light
of the first star

~

Rain falling at dawn,
I am awake
writing shattered notes
to an unknown lover

~

I am waiting for you
on the other side of silence,
covered in dew
and holding out
the scarlet fire of my heart.

~

Aux moments silencieux
je retrouve mon destin,
fleur couleur du vent,
fraicheur de l’aube,
les yeux de mon bien-aimée
lumière du monde.

~

My poem is a painting
in which her soul is blushing;
my poem is an attempt
to touch her light
with shivering fingers
and an aching soul;
my poem comes nearest to her
when it is silent.

Free Verse # 417 (the focal point of her heart)

I am searching for you
like a jasmine flower looks
for her lost fragrance
in the nooks of the evening sky

~

To live every day
as though it were a poem
inked with the fire
of your love

~

I wandered too deep
into the breath of God;
now I am a flower
wafting on the wind,
in the dewdrop I am
the face of the sky.

~

Completely alone,
invisible to the world’s eye,
born and reborn,
born into full color
from within the eye of love.

~

Her light is the veil
that hides her
in the act of revelation;
so I am condemned
to chase her
in the luminosity of things
ever longing for her core.

~

She smiled once
and it did not matter
if darkness was
the ultimate reality;
she smiled once
and darkness was the mesh
carrying her light
to the end of space and time.

~

Long after her form
vanishes from my mind
her light will linger
in my heart

~

Skin on skin,
the soft warmth of her body
pressing against mine,
engulfing me
in the torrent of her fragrance,
bending time and space
in the focal point of her heart.

~

She is not a body
but a river drowning me
and tugging me down
and deeper down
into the ocean of eternity.

She is the fragrance of the sky.

Free Verse # 415 (in the layers of poetry)

Her body is the place I come to when I long to remember, when I long to forget. Her body is the image at its fountainhead — the soul embodied.

~

The image of her hands
comes at night,
the burning wings
of a fluttering moth,
a candle’s breath
dreaming.

~

Sedimented
in the layers of poetry
the moonlight that once shun
on the shore as we kissed,
the frail scent of a basil
kissing your cheek at dawn.

~

Lovemaking is not unlike breadmaking, and when the bread rises there you have it.

~

The death
growing inside of me
shall one day blossom
and waft me like a sigh
over the sea of eternity

~

A te toucher je frissonne
comme les débuts du printemps,
comme un feu qui prend souffle
de l’intime corps de l’amour.

~

Silence descends
like a spring-shower;
in the openness I listen
to the voice of the One.

~

I’m disappearing in you again
like the tolling sound of a bell
in the fog of memories

~

Autumn night reading…
the birdsongs I follow
through the branches of words
always somehow lead
to a clearing in the forest
where I am one with you