Free Verse # 377 (gypsy way, rooted in love)

At the entrance
of the poem
I wait for you,
in my hand a vow
weaved
with the light of the moon.

~

O heart
what do I do with you?
I cast you
you come back,
I hold you
you turn away,
I wait for you
you fail to come,
O heart
always on the run.

~

In the morning
your voice comes to me
and I shake like a leaf
caught in the wind

~

A dash of salt and honey; a handful of poetry.

~

Always
a little ink in my blood
to paint the shadows
of the burning flowers

~

Woman brave enough to meet me
In the throbbing heart of poetry

~

This poetry,
a chalice we raise
and pour
over the world…
the moon at dawn.

~

Without a word uttered
our poems
conversed all night
in the light
of the stars and moon

~

The swift step
of your shadow
moving across my poem
blooming at dawn

~

I gaze into her face
and my eyes drift,
a bird flying
through a sea of fog,
and this flight
becomes my journey,
this journey becomes home.

~

What does it take
to make the poem dance?
A smile from her lips,
A gaze from her eyes.

~

Even after I die
some things will never change,
stars will shine,
waves will roll,
and my breath will seek yours
in the infinity of the sky.

~

Take me with you
on a gypsy kind of road,
from poem to poem
a life of wandering,
in our bag
the moon and stars,
and a kiss shared
like bread like wine,
a kiss shared
for the rest of our days.

~

Will you come? –
I am no longer sure;
like a poem standing
in its own grave,
all around me grows
the silence of the sky.

~

Softly softly
sway inside of me,
this gentle rub
the sigh of poetry.

Free Verse # 372 (the summer of my hopes)

Wherever I am
I am with you,
your hand over my heart,
my fingers in your hair,
our breaths a shawl
caressing the earth,
opening her to love.

~

autumn-apple
Photographer unknown

Red and luscious
it hangs from your bough,
the last of my poems,
the summer of my hopes.

~

Ton parfum
le pain quotidien
de tous les poètes

~

We unfold through connections…
the jasmine flower with the moon breeze,
my poem with your eyes.

~

Poem by poem
I strip through the veils
of desire,
then your voice
like a tender breeze
sweeps into my heart
and I find myself centered
in the radiance of your soul.

~

Evening,
in the wind’s hollow neck
I place my call,
at dawn it splashes
in waves over your skin.

~

For a gift
bring me a teacup
with your breath
steeped into its lips
so I could taste you
each time I sip my tea
and fill with your poetry

~

I am an old way lover,
I will keep my distance
and write you letters,
distill my heart into words
brimming with the flower
of poetry.

~

Through the window
of her absence
I gaze at the world
and the world becomes rain
the world becomes fire
the world becomes
an unbearable sea of ache.

~

The autumn moon
stains my being
and the timeless runes
become visible,
shape upon shape,
fire within fire,
the face of you.

~

Take me back to the fields
where light abounds,
where dawn is a whisper
hissed by your eyes.

The Turn

Unable to find you
out in the world
I turned inward
to the source
of incompletion and ache
and found that my heart
in its reckless longing
was erecting itself
as a temple
with your light for its pillars,
with your love
an unshakable fountain of joy
revolving in its center.

I turned inward
but then, marvelous inversion!
your light flowed out
and etched itself
into the fiber of the world.

Where are you now?
A fluid motion
moving all around,
a moving ocean
without edges or shores
hovering nimbus
over the entire creation,
sweeping it in its onrush
to the center of the soul.

Who are you now?
All the names
that ever went down in history
and all the names
that fell out,
forgotten and unknown,
you are the source of naming itself,
and the hover of silence
in the secret heart of dawn.

Free Verse # 358 (blooming with promise)

في العشية
أشعل قليلا
من بخور قصائدي
وبأناملي
في الغيمة العطرة
أتلمس تكاوين وجهك
باكيا عمرا مضى
وعمرا يمضي

~

Softly along the edges
then deeper into her core
she cracked and broke
as he held her into him
blooming with the promise
of the sun in her womb

~

Searching for you
I lost my way,
but a wave
cut from the ocean
is all froth and ache
and a poem
from door to door
rolling
setting the world aflame.

~

These scribbles of ink
are the traces and crumbs
of a heart straining
to live in your presence —
and all my poem does
is ache for your touch.

~

Dawn,
her blond hair
from the blue eves
falling in rivers,
a kiss of honey
firing the world,
a poem singing a glory
hallowed by grace.