Free Verse # 410 (my life)

My heart at dawn
soundlessly breaking;
in the forest
a swoosh of leaves,
and the song of a bird
that spent the night
searching for its nest.

~

In a blind world
I press my poem
to the wound of the sky

~

All the poetry I wrote
and you did not read
I’ll burn and blow,
fireflies in the night.

~

The sun has set;
of one cloth are weaved
my soul and the sky’s.

~

The sun,
blood red as it sinks;
my heart a coal
of untamed desire.

~

I live alone
at the edge of dawn
and no one
save a poem and a bird
comes to knock on my door.

~

Her and me –
the two wings of a bird gliding
in the silence of dawn.

~

I think of you the way silence spreads through the bosom of the night.

~

In the wave of his longing
she slept,
a leaf folded
in the silence of the sky.

~

My life,
little absences
converging
in the great heart
of the sea.

My life,
a great absence,
a thin ink line
of fading poetry.

~

J’ai beaucoup vie dans ton ombre. Je brille de ta lumière.

~

Trying to forget her whom I never met.

~

The aura of her light
enticing me to touch her
with the ray of poetry

~

Somewhere
in a secret place of her heart
I once loved,
I once lost.

Free Verse # 408 (this music I heard)

My shadow softened
into her light,
a rose finally knowing
what it is to blossom.

~

She is not a body
but a constellation of stars
and each night, eyes closed,
with my breath I trace her,
trace her in my heart.

~

In my imagination
I work her body
the way the bee patiently builds
the intimate chambers of her honeycomb
using the fiery nectar of the flowers.

~

This music I heard
when I touched your heart
I do not want it to end

~

She is beautiful
the way dawn
caressing a rose
smiles in his white heart

~

In her touch
I want to burn and keep burning
until I am no more
than ash in the wind

~

Dans mon imagination
je travaille son corps
comme l’abeille patiemment
façonne les chambres de sa maison
avec le feu brulant des fleurs

~

In every poem I read
I search for the whiff
of her fragrance,
the secret intuition that led
the poet’s pure vision,
the hidden hand that guided
the fervent spill of his heart.

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.