Free Verse # 383 (her poem stepped into my eyes)

I looked at her
and the wind breezed,
and my heart
like a shivering leaf
was carried
far beyond the silent hills.

~

The wind blows,
the thunder claps,
my hand
into the dark reaches
searching for your hand,
and my mouth for yours
aches
like a wound
for its healing balm.

~

One winter morning
you look out the window
and snow covers
everything;
just like that,
sometime in the night
your poem touched my cheek,
now, at morn, looking out the window,
your breath covers everything.

~

Her poem
stepped into my eyes
and closed the door,
ever since
I could only see
through her veil of light.

~

My breath
a river of mist and fog
circling her neck,
its dew falling thick
lacing her white hills,
her breasts, belly, and back
all soaked with the shiver
of poetry…

~

In the shadow
of the poem
let us surrender breath
and rise again in spring,
two rose-trees
from a single stem.

~

How do I write?
I feel your hand
on my chest,
over my heart,
and writing happens.

~

Howling winds outside,
on my table
a candle flickers
by a dreaming book,
her hovering breath
in the air drips –
the ambrosia of silence.

~

The sound
my poem makes
when touched by her breath…
in the silence of the night
a candle praying

~

At dawn
my breath is a butterfly
from flower to flower
fluttering
searching for her mouth

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Free Verse # 341 (the candle of her eyes)

I am a fool for her belly
where all the flowers of the world
burn like stars
and exhale their colours
in flames of fragrant light

~

I want to bend her,
a bow aching to shoot
poetry’s hot arrow
into the throbbing core of love.

~

My heart
is a dark corner
lit by the candle
of her eyes

~

By a waterless river
I am a willow tree,
my silent tears
course the dry riverbed
and in endless roots
stream up her spine
and claim her, free.

~

On her lips
my poem takes form,
a flower at dawn
reaping
the silence of the sky.

~

I think of you as the flower which breath is poetry.

~

Last hour,
when the music
is the stillness
of two hearts in love,
in unison beating
to the ultimate mystery.

~

I yearn to merge with her
as the shadows of twilight
melt into dark rivers
and flood into the sea of night

~

Darkness comes
and I turn to you
like a bird always knows
from where the wind blows

Free Verse # 340 (on her lips the full moon)

She held his poem
against her belly,
pressed into her naval
like a fiery seed being sown
in the womb of the earth.

~

On her lips
the full moon
a wild flower

~

Two in appearance; in reality one light, one body, one soul.

~

Wrapped in the silk
of a thousand dawns
she comes to me
and I unwrap her
one dawn at a time,
unfolding
her ineffable essence,
poetry…

~

I’m not a poet
I am a perfume maker,
in the oil of her skin
I dip my brush
then paint her,
a burning fragrance,
poetry.

~

On the nourishment
of your skin I subsist
the way a butterfly
dips and dips
into the heart of the flower,
her tremulous sea of poetry.

~

Of all my yearnings
only one remains…
red flower on her lips

~

In the quiet of my heart
your flower grows…
moon in the night

David Whyte – Sweet Darkness

“When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone
no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.

There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb
tonight.

The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.

You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.”

— David Whyte, from The House of Belonging

Free Verse # 333 (free to walk the earth)

Her calm sensuality
a silhouette at dawn
falling over my sky,
a blanket weaving
all my breaths and stars
into the waterfall of her hair.

~

Like birds at dusk
returning to their nest
into her boudoir
my breaths steal
and there cluster
against her breasts
and nest like stars

~

In the liminal spaces,
at dawn, at dusk,
at the turn of the seasons
I feel you most acutely,
a thorn in my chest
radiating throughout
the pain of your absence

~

Learning you
the way the flame dissolves
wick and wax
into a fervent intimacy,
a union of light.

~

In vino veritas –
and that is how I sip her,
with religious fervor,
with veins aching
to flood with her truth.

~

I felt her breath
move into me
as the mist at dawn
seeps into the silent bay

~

Look at her…
the dew of dawn
in fervent folds
raining from her skin

~

Slowly
in endless ribbons
the nocturnal wind gathers
the waterfall of her hair
into a blanket covering
the face of the earth…

~

Eternity in her skin
a shapeshifting poem
displaying all the forms
the world contains,
from her inexhaustible womb
hurling them as waves.

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

In the deeps of darkness
your voice was the starlight
leading me home

~

Gazing your way…
a mariner
long lost at sea
looking at the horizon
and remembering home…

~

My arm
through the darkness
extends your way,
a branch heavy
with the rain of longing,
poem with each breath
invoking you…

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

Free to walk the earth
as a rain drop dissolved
in the ocean of the beloved

~

The olive complexion
of your skin
I caress like a flame
eager to take root
and flourish therein

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

Naked in these arms,
inside the rose a dewdrop
coming undone to become
the fragrance of this love.

~

In the silent eve
her face flickered
as though a candle
were lit within it,
its flame calling
the moth of poetry.

~

The fragrance
of your absence
slips over me
like a second skin,
a burning tunic
shedding my skin
and wearing me as you.

~

How you live in me…
for a mariner
long lost at sea
home is the absolute absence,
the sole reality.

Free Verse # 330 (her skin is the book of genesis)

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

We danced like this
alone
in the darkness
where no one sees
even when we were
in a crowded room
full of prying eyes

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

The exquisite pain of fire
curling along her fragile neck,
the unbearable gentleness
that brings each poem to tears.

~

I gaze at her like a bird
stares at the sky,
under his wings
her fiery love calling him
to fly and never return.

~

Even light is shy
when touching her face,
even water
and all the natural elements.
At her feet all resides,
and her skin is the book of genesis.

~

Pen obsession…
inking her skin,
trails like rivers
coursing,
rising and falling,
indelible marks
of tears and years
soaking wounds and scars
and tumbling deep down
to where it all begins.

~

His touch…
tattooed
with invisible ink
into every fiber
of her skin

~

Like pilgrim birds
her breaths
amid my ribs travel
venturing far back
into the virginal land
that bears her name,
the source of my flame.

~

Like a moth
caught in a flame
all my life
in fiery rivers
is running to you

~

All my poems
inked passion bottled
and drifting through the sea.
When you wake at dawn
to a skin laced with dew
know, it’s me.

~

Afternoon coffee…
I sip it with you
dreaming of your eyes,
the rain outside joining
your breath and mine.

~

As a moth
drawn to a flame
I concentrate
all the fire of my being
into one act of consciousness—
merging with you,
opening, unto eternity.

~

I only have a heart to write her name.

~

Let us lie together like clouds,
our lightening
grazing the earth,
our rain nurturing her,
dissolving in one another
as we become the sky