Silent Dithyramb

In the still night
my heart surrounding her
is stiller still,
a dithyramb composed
of an infinite yearning,
a longing deeper
than the womb of the sun.

My heart surrounds her
with the tranquil charm
of the silent sea at dawn,
as my touch in wave after wave
falls upon her skin,
languidly burning,
my breath wrapping her
like a dreaming cloud.

Now she sleeps,
and as her eyes close
her other eyes open,
wide awake
inside the infinite landscape
of poetry’s own heart.

Free Verse # 396 (a life of wandering)

Dawn; the silence a sea
of radiant heat,
a universe permeated
by the want of our touch.

~

Night,
the wind trembles
and in the scatter of leaves
I hear your voice,
an ancient yearning
reaching into me,
opening my soul up
to the clear obscure dance
of desire and poetry.

~

The bird on the branch
sings the end of winter
as a flower slowly
takes shape in my heart.

~

A life of wandering,
taking in the world
in still images distilled
with the lens of poetry.

~

In the shadows of the night
your breath comes to me,
page after page of a poem
burning in my chest,
its words, set free,
buzzing in my veins.

~

In the bonfire of longing
my poems to you burn,
freed from the paper
their words rise,
the wings of a deep intimacy
taking flight
and like a song of praise
covering the world.

Free Verse # 395 (my hidden journey with you)

Poetry, a voice
far away calling me,
into the solitude
of mist and stone…

~

flowering-solitude-at-virgin-hazmieh-february-2017
Flowering Solitude at Virgin Hazmieh, February 2017

Locked in exile
until a word comes from you;
word after word I chronicle
my exile and imprisonment,
my hidden journey with you.

~

Let my poem be a touch
burning against your heart,
unraveling like a prayer
that sings my undoing.

~

I am lost
until I hear your voice
murmuring in the silence
under the world’s noise,
your breath then flames
like a gentle summer wind
and in my heart there is poetry.

~

Dawn…
in the light of her face
the world begins again

~

At dawn
the rain of your heartbeats
splashing on my pillow,
your light in waves
washing my life, my face.

~

His breath brushed her lips
and the words that lingered
all her life under her skin
burst into color
and flowed to strum
the shores of infinity.

Free Verse # 391 (I’m scared of loneliness)

My cold hands shivering
on words that will not come,
and your thighs
a summer sheath calling me
to spill it all within,
a bonfire of ink and wine.

~

A full moon reigns
and I am in a strange land,
my hand
through her dark curls
sifting,
searching
for forgotten memories.

~

Whenever in my pen
no ink is there to write
I search to find it
etched to a slow burn
on the curves of your lips,
in the wellspring of your eyes.

So I call you a thieve
and kiss your hands,
break my pen and throw it,
and journey into you,
to the source of poetry.

~

I am a poet
running barefoot
in a city of broken stars
searching for the candle
burning in your window,
aching for your touch.

~

Fire’s ash
The dust of snow
It all will pass
High or low
And all the seeds
We reap and sow
Are in the moments
When in love we grow

~

The shadow of her hair
in the evening breeze,
her voice from afar
in the heart of the mist
sounding an invisible bell.

~

Her smile was the fragrance
missing from my life,
the shaft of light
that could pierce
the cloud of my soul.

~

Snug against my neck…
her perfume in the morning
a candle’s burning breath

~

Winter night…
here and there the scattered
ashes of poetry

~

My wound aches
for the sear
of the fire in her lips

~

I’m scared of loneliness, so I write to be with you.

Free Verse # 389 (old year, new year)

For the new year,
in each poem
I’ll rehearse your name
ever more faithfully,
in each breath
deepen in your silence,
the mainstream of your heart.

~

Touched by your light
the moon and morning star
shy away in silence;
the whole celestial sphere
a dervish burning
in the poem of your skin.

~

New year’s morn…
your breath on my lips
a rain of dew burning
with the liquid light of love

~

Wine and poetry
for new year’s eve,
her voice in my chest
a river of fire and ice,
her hand in my mind
with ruthless grace seeding
all the coming suns.

~

Old year, new year,
in the glow of your sun
it all rises, it all sets.

~

What is longing? –
her lips below audible
sighed in the wind,
as her heart
before her leapt
and went spanning
the endless distances,
through the grass
gliding silently
and shuddering, burning,
following a thread
weaved with fingers
older than time.

Free Verse # 388 (itinerant heart)

Winter moon
in the aching window…
you, my insomnia,
combing my hair,
your breath
in the pathless night
weaving all my ways,
your fragrance
a candle keeping vigil
in the sinews of my veins.

~

Your poem
a voracious thing
in the hollow
of the moonless night
biting at my skin,
veins deep spewing
the melody of its blood,
its ferocious ink.

~

Anise and incense…
the oars of your breath
splashing in my skin

~

Itinerant heart selling tea
In a breath of poetry

~

Night falls –
her blood and mine
one inkwell,
all the poets of the world
dipping their pen
into our hearts and writing
the holy name of love.

~

Night falls –
the silence
a skin of dew lacing
our tangled bodies,
merging in a soft fusion
the seams of our skin,
our joined breath
poetry…

~

tumblr_oho2xbpxpD1tw3y4xo1_500.gif

Her body she offers,
a sea to be crafted
by the ink of his fire,
exalted on the altar
of lust and poetry.