Free Verse # 450 (the way home)

The way home…
star to star I kiss
the freckles of her skin

~

Autumn approaches,
on my lips
I can already taste the wine
of a cool evening
lost in the valley
amid the shadowy hills,
a fire burning slowly
as the wind shivers
in the frail leaves
while nature prepares
her long sleep.

~

Touchant sa peau
ses doigts ont glissé
tout au long de sa mémoire
à l’endroit où l’amour
est terre natale

~

البلد هو المكان الذي نعيش فيه ؛ الوطن هو ما نحمله في قلبنا.

~

اطمأنت له
فانغرست فيه
كجذر شجرة
مشتاقة إلى باطن الأرض،
اطمأنت له
فسافرت فيه
كطائرٍ مهاجر
سماؤه لا حدود لها.
اطمأنت لحبه
فسكنت فيه
وهدأ قلبها.

~

كان بينهما شيئاً كالليل،
غير منظور وأبدى.

~

Dawn rises,
morning arrives,
on the altar of light
I break the bread
and drink the wine,
I listen to the silence
as it empties my heart,
I write a little poem
and let it fly,
and I welcome with joy
what the day will bring,
let it take the shape
of my longing, my spirit, my light.

~

Only with his words
did he touch her skin,
and only once did his verse glide
along the edges of her mind,
but his words stayed
as their bodies drifted apart,
etched and shining like stars
in the sky behind her eyes.

~

I penetrated her
long before I touched her,
I vanquished her
with unbearable tenderness,
I seduced her open
so open that when a single
breath touched her skin
she trembled and filled
with an ocean of stars.

~

When I look into her eyes
all history is erased
and nothing exists
except this moment,
a passion growing
inside this majesty
of knowing and being known
without words,
heart to heart.

~

لم المس جسدها،
ولا حتى عقلها،
بل شيئاً ما في داخلها
جعل الحب يجيء
كما الربيع من
باطن الأرض.

~

من شعرها انسدل الليل
وفاض في جسدها،
اسود مائي في بشرتها
الممتلئة من نمش النجوم،
واصابعه ريشة ترسم
شهبا وانوار وهي تمر
بين المجرات السابحة
في بحر جسدها؛
بين يديه اضحت كوناً
أوله شعر وآخره صلاة،
وما بين الشعر والصلاة
بخورٌ ونبيذٌ وشبقٌ
وسرُّ اسرارِ الحياة.

~

الغمازات أسفل ظهرها
نوتات موسيقية،
ان داعبتها على مهل،
ان قبلتها، تحركت كالكمنجة في جسدها،
تكسرت كالموج على بشرتها،
منها فاضت لتملأ كأس نبيذك
موسيقى ورذاذ بحر
وشعرٍ مبلل بعطرها.

Haiku # 678

Noir de nuit
dans la flamme j’entends
le murmure de mes pensées

~

Whenever I smell her skin
on my face I feel
the spray of summer waves

~

In her eyes I see
the spinning core
of the galaxy

~

Blancheur d’hiver…
son corps dans mon lit
un cerisier en fleurs

~

Un tableau de Vincent
dans son corps nu tourne
la nuit étoilée

Tangled & Merging

Night falls,
her dark hair in rivulets
fills its lonesome corners;
the candle of her breath
ignites somewhere
inside the vast darkness,
casting a play of shadows
against the spinning walls;
a cloistered world,
an intimate world
of poetry and wine
and our lips
and our naked bodies
tangled and merging
somewhere deep inside.

Tanka # 175

كهمس الأوراق
خيال وجهها وهو يمرّ
بين حروف القصيدة،
تاركاً، في سماءها
خيوط فجرٍ أبيض كالماء

~

To write her name
in the form of a poem
and feel in it moving
all the swirling eddies
in the oceans of the world

~

Her dark hair
a rain of fire
flooded across my belly
and moving insatiably
to the rhythm of her head

Haiku # 613 | Tanka # 167

Dans la pluie
qui mouille mes lèvres
je goutte ton nom

~

Dans mes mains
je les acquis,
tes cheveux tombant
comme la pluie
de la voute du ciel

~

Imprégnée de rosée
sa peau de fleur respirait
le blanc de la poésie

~

Dans le jardin,
sous le ciel de l’aube,
sa peau de fleur
imprégnée de rosée
respirait la poésie.

~

Laying in the garden
at the break of dawn,
the flower of her skin
soaking in dew
breathed poetry.

Letter, April 30, 2017

I feel the press of your breasts and soft skin around me, everywhere, coaxing me to flower into you the erection of my body, the life of my poetry. Your light comes in flashes of intuition, falling upon my face as through the sunlit openings of an orchard, and I heed with the attentiveness of my whole body, the animal soul in me. Your dew falls like an erotic enchantment and a buoyancy comes like a fountain rising from the depth of my soul; suddenly I find myself harnessed in shafts of wheat upon the altar of your body, ready to burn, ready to become dough and bread, ready to feed upon the milk of your breasts and the honey of your skin. Your body is the world, the element I am living in, moving through, and this eros, this tension between us mercilessly opens me and challenges me to become in the thrust the man that I am. So I take you, as I give myself to you, as through you I slingshot myself into the sky of eternity.

Woman of silk and fire, woman of milk and honey suckling my wildest desire.

One Quiver, One Drop

My breath of words
inside of you travels,
a shawl of mist stroking
your hidden sea of dew;
the red leaves in your garden
shiver wet
as your damp limbs and boughs
gently sway;
your skin flowers
into a blood red moan,
from between its petals
a river gushing,
scarlet whispers hushed
on a quiet summer eve,
one drop from its flow
diluting a thousand aching seas,
one quiver of its passion
burning a thousand universes
on the altar of eternity.

His Ink; Her Juice; Their Poetry

She laid there
surrounded by candles,
the inked verses
of past night’s lovemaking
sprawling like vines
all across her naked skin,
the bowl of grapes
placed on her belly
trembling each time
his pen pushed
into her, into the pink flower
between her thighs,
wanting her essence, he said,
her juices mixed
with each word he wrote
in his private journal,
and as the writing
became feverish
her mouth caught fire
and flared with moans
brighter than all
the surrounding candles,
brighter than the moon
peeking jealous
through curtains.
At the pen’s last stroke
the grapes
pressed between their bodies
burst like moans…

Free Verse # 373 (the street and its people)

My whole life is a letter for you written in a language only love can understand.

~

By the candlelight
I loved to read her poems
and gaze, every now and then,
into her eyes,
at the way the flame flickered
and danced upon
the page of her face,
the poem of my life.

~

With the patience
of the river
dissolving rocks
and carrying them to the sea
my touch will have her skin
dissolved in poetry.

~

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Photographer unknown

Her warming flow of wine
in the early morning chill,
the areolas of her breasts
flowering starlike
amid my thirsty lips.

~

Return to me,
I am all windows
silently waiting,
my soul
at each windowsill
a poem burning,
into the night calling,
calling you home.

~

The deeper blue
of the autumn sea,
the silent dawns
calmer still,
the earth
caressed by the rain
smells of your skin.

~

lovers-street-kiss
Photographer unknown

The street and its people
fell away from them,
a world warped by their gravity,
the magnetism of their kiss,
their deep immersion
in the moment’s poetry.

~

The garden tree,
how does it know
when summer turns to autumn,
winter to spring?
In the same way,
deep,
unfathomable,
this knowledge of you
seeps under my skin,
moves in my soul.

~

Take me by the hand
and lead me down
to the willow by the river
where my dreams since childhood
flowed with the water
and dissolved in her sea.

~

You who lives in the heart of me,
you are the crossroad of everything,
the beginning and end of everything.

~

She wears glasses
too big for her face,
and smiles as though
the world is too small to fit
behind her small dark eyes.

Free Verse # 368 (checkmate, orgasm, poetry)

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Photographer unknown

All day all night
in her skin
dancing with the muse,
each etched verse
a chess move;
the spiral culminates,
checkmate, orgasm,
poetry.

~

Your belly
the altar on which I place
petal by petal
all the poetry of the world;
set aflame
your skin drinks the ash
and you become
the world’s poetry.

~

If I could touch her I would choose to quiver her heart with poetry.

~

Of his breath
she constructed
a seashell
and therein she slept
cradled all night

~

He ached
to rage over her
and into her
like a wild storm,
pressing her into him,
a seed in his soil,
planting her spine
in the dirt of his being.

~

I could only touch her the way sunlight caresses the face of the earth in the early hour of dawn.

~

A small cabin
in the heart of the woods,
snow falling thick
erasing everything,
and you and I
hemmed in,
by the window
drinking tea or wine
and reading poetry.

Free Verse # 366 (before you I am an unfree man)

Dawn…
the fragrant skin
of the woman I love
a thin veil covering
the garden of the world

~

Poetry is my form of worship,
with it, through it
I consummate my being
and lay it open
at the doorway of your sky,
a yearning flame quivering
in the heart of your sea.

~

I wanted to touch you, so I wrote you poetry.

~

The living in me had resigned
to be the flame of a candle
shivering and lost
in the contemplation of her eyes,
and what burning tears I wept
I scribed – holy poetry.

~

With death
I inherit the rain,
the kiss of lovers,
the breath of the sea,
flowers sigh at dawn
and I am in their yearning,
a thread in their lust.

~

At dawn
he trembled inside of her
as his eyes lay
fixed into hers,
his hips
the slow motion of waves
pushing,
her body
his harbor,
his eternal shore.

~

Before you
I am an unfree man,
a lightning born
of a boundless womb
and wanting, for your sake,
to incinerate the earth,
merge it with your sky.

~

Enmeshed
our bodies burned
in lustful fires,
melted
to a foaming point
then emerged,
a full moon parting
rough waters,
seeding the belly
of the dark sea.

~

Night descends
and I swell into her,
the shiver of my flame
cradled against her spine,
a full moon from her navel
whispering pure white.

~

Against my neck
in the quiver of her lips
the wet voice of dawn

~

At dawn
through the window
her scent wafting in,
the woman I love,
the woman I always wanted
to touch with my heart.

~

A dark moon glowing
her skin where he confides
the secrets of his heart