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 # 409 (the breath of a candle)

My touch in her skin…
the breath of a candle
whispering to the stars

~

Ce que la nuit étouffe, l’amour rallumera  – instinct du poète.

~

To touch her
with the heart of poetry ;
to touch her
and hear the poem
go silent,
pregnant
with the light of dawn.

~

Love is a state that wants to be secure in its vulnerability.

~

In the silence
I am painting you again,
brush dipped
in the tea breath,
pen in the ink
of a thousand kissing lovers.

~

In the fading light of dusk
as the fog trembled
like a blanket over the forest
a deer came and went swiftly
and my startled heart
found itself again
inside the poetry

~

La soie de sa peau,
le feu de mon encre –
promesse de poésie

~

The fingers of the night
strum her dark hair,
with each plucked string
the jasmine scent wafts
and goes everywhere, everywhere.

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.

Free Verse # 407 (better than poetry)

Love came bearing
the gift of the moment,
the gaze of eternity
burning in her eyes.

~

In the timber of her voice
a candle burned,
its flickering light painting
the face of the night.

~

I am waiting for you
on the edge of the night,
my heart a candle stirred
by the silence of its light.

~

The words I write,
wisps of fire etched
into her fragrant breath
as it escapes her lips,
wisps of fire etching
the fragrance of her breath
into the moving skin of the world.

~

A brook running
amid her curves,
the waves of the sea
lapping her white shores,
I could touch her for all my life
and it will never be enough.

~

Better than poetry
we shared the silence
the sky makes at dawn,
and our hearts were filled
with a single prayer falling
from the radiant face of God.

Free Verse # 406 (Dieu peignant le monde)

It’s been a thousand years
since you slept in my bed,
yet, each dawn I wake
with my head drowning
in the garden of your hair
still blooming on my pillow.

~

I persist by the grace of poetry.

~

In vain I searched for you until
in my heart I heard your voice saying,
Here!
Now, wherever I look I find you,
the breath living in me
and beating closer
than my own life and death.

~

With tender feet
you walked into my poem,
my words aglow
with the fragrance of your skin
spoke a fire
ancient as the world,
quivered as dewdrops
from their lips came pouring
onto the parched lips
of the world.

~

Dieu
peignant le monde
a trempé sa plume
dans l’encrier de son corps.

~

God
painting the world
dipped his brush
in the inkwell of her body.

Free Verse # 405 (captive of her silence)

With my fingers in her hair
gnawing like roots
we sat inside a longing
crushed by the weight
of an eternity of waiting

~

He felt the thunder
roaring in her silence,
rocking against the shore,
and there he sat,
her tide taking away
his baggage,
washing away his memories.

~

My song is a captive of her silence, the radiance of her heart.

~

When I write
I feel it,
the press of her lips
slowly inching,
succulent on my fingertips,
trembling as they sip
the ink from my heart.

~

The sigh of the flowers
at dawn,
their fragrant breaths
a cloud burning
with an ache
to soak into the fullness
of her lips.