Haiku # 620

Tannourine el Tahta, Lebanon, January 01, 2019

Through the window
of my longing
the first light of the year

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Haibun # 4

Roads are so fascinating because far off, in the distance, they always curve into some unknown, inviting and frightening, tantalizing our sense of adventure. They open us to the moment and fill us with wonder, swelling our hearts with endless possibilities.

Again and again
what I lost came back to me…
a traveler on the road

Douma, Lebanon, May 2018
Douma, Lebanon, May 27, 2018

Free Verse # 394 (a bag of poetry)

Wanderer
chasing flowers
fallen from her hair,
on the pathways of the world
traveling
carrying nothing
but a bag of poetry.

~

A woman who can grant me
the love I always longed for,
between us the silence
of the poem-sky.

~

Summer in a vineyard…
grape by grape
from her skin falling,
a wine burning velvet
in the cup of poetry.

~

batroun-february-03-2017
Batroun, February 03, 2017

Shriveled kisses
in the midst of winter…
figs clinging still
to the promise of the sky

~

Writing always follows
a sacred ritual,
her fragrance burning
along the edge of the pen.

~

Poetry is always a companionship, an intimacy between two beings.

~

Humans are doorways opening unto little ponds or great oceans, water bodies as small or as great as the deeps of our longing, the rootedness of our understanding and love.

Free Verse # 390 (my spring of poetry)

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Photographer Unknown

Love was between us
and she was a tailoress,
fitting my poems
to the curves of her skin,
the sinews of her breath.

~

With a breath,
with a word,
with a heartbeat,
with a ribbon of your fragrance
fill my heart to overflow,
grant me your light
as a gift of life.

~

Our poetry…
two birds
to one another
deep in the woods
calling.

~

Wetness dripping…
poetry dissolved
amid her thighs

~

tyr-january-06-2017
Tyr, South Lebanon, January 06, 2017

The anchor of your breath
once fell into me,
now my skin is all rust
from the salt of your sea.

~

Stirring softly,
a breeze amid the trees
at dawn,
my breath in starseeds
dewing on your skin,
your dark hair
a mooncloud
in my spring of poetry.