Haiku # 713

My love for you…
an inevitability
written in the stars

حبي لكِ
شيءٌ حتميّ
مكتوبٌ في النجوم

~

Le bras du vieux moulin
à chaque tournée découpe
la lune de son ciel

ذراع الطاحون القديمة
مع كلِ دورةٍ تقطع
القمرَ منَ السماء

The old mill’s arm
at each turn cutting
the moon from its sky

~

February…
peeking through my window
the morning sun

~

Winter night…
only the moon echoes
the stillness in my heart

~

Winter night…
of one silence
my heart and the moon

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Haiku # 701

Autumn
one leaf then another
falls in the wind

الخريف
ورقة ثم أخرى
تقع في الريح

~

September
through the woods I take
the long way home

~

September
you’ll find my heart buried
in a pile of yellow leaves

~

I breathe her in
as though her skin
is the light of the moon

~

Autumn evening
my thoughts drifting
with the passing clouds

~

Deep in the forest
I find my heart still
like the air and leaves

~

Forever is just a word
between us
and the moon

~

الخريفُ يبدأ
برائحةِ الأرض أُعَطَّر
زوايا روحي

~

هو يحب النساء اللواتي
يعرفن كيف يتحولن إلى شعر
بين يديه

Haiku # 685

يلفظ الكلمات كأنها
…أوراق خريف تتساقط
!الشاعر

~

Autumn returns
and my heart fills
with a nameless longing

~

La nuit descend…
dans un coin de mon cœur
s’allume une chandelle

~

Autumn evening
I light a candle
and open my book

~

Itinerant heart –
no house but the road,
no home but the wind…

~

Steeping my tea
as the moon quietly
looks through the window

Letter, October 05, 2019

Lived simply, in deep attention and presence, a life can be so full that its echo reverberates to the stillness of the stars — the garden’s dust on my shoes, a good book, a cup of aged wine, and your face, beloved, hovering around all things like a cloud, their inner light, their intimate aura. I write to you today as the sun sets over another autumn day, as the wind withers away the leaves and grass leaving nature and my thoughts bared down to their essence. Time is moving and life is trickling away, yet a deeper stillness is settling in my heart. It feels to me as though, if I lift my hand, I could almost touch your face; as though the warmth of your breath is mingled with mine. This silence is a prayer. I listen to the wind in the yellowing leaves. I write another poem penned with the ink of your love.

Haiku # 648

His words in her ears…
Seashells divulging
the secret of the sea
~
A la table du poète
devant l’encrier
songe le vieux papier
~
Ses cheveux noirs
maison aux eaux coulants
au fond de la terre
~
Matin brisé
par la brume…
Le souffle de la mer
~
A l’abri du silence
la chandelle fane
lentement la nuit
~
Peignant la nuit
le noir
de ses cheveux.
~
Notre amour
dans dix milles ans…
Etoile sur la mer
~
Eight to five job…
the bird at my window
teasing with his smile
~
Haiku pond
the shadow of a bird
passing at dusk
~
Fallen in love…
The changed color
of her eyes

Free Verse # 416 (all this poetry)

She is silent
and yet I whisper,
like the autumn winds
I whisper
into the silence
of her sky.

I populate her absence
with the breath of the tea I sip
and the scent of autumn leaves.

~

Front sur front,
nos yeux deux mers
coulant l’une dans l’autre,
no corps, deux rives
et entre nous
la rivière de l’éternité.

~

Your absence
like a burning candle
has melted away my body;
I am a sea of frozen ache
lodged
in the waiting nook of time.

~

A girl wearing
sunset for a body;
she is the dawn
harnessing
the dew of poetry;
in the sway of her hips
the oceans move;
in the fragrance of her hair
the scent of autumn woods.

~

A flame as she dies
embraces the sky;
all this poetry
is a river
tugging me down
and deeper down
to the ocean
that is you.

~

In this world of wonder all I know is the beauty of your face.

~

If I could retain one word
and have my life turn within it
I’d choose the word “silence,”
because in it, there you are.

The Mystery of Your Ways

By the jasmine tree,
under the moon at dawn
I am waiting for you,
your silence since long
arrived before you
but only now
have I begun to hear
the whisper of your voice,
your silence since long
announced your presence
but only now
am I beginning to feel
the freshness of your breath,
and as I walk away at last,
as I walk away
into the rising day
a strange power carries me on
almost like a wave,
imperceptible, unexplainable,
asking me to let go,
to trust and surrender
to the mystery of your ways.

The Want of Your Taste

Summer dawn,
your fragrance down my neck
streams in beads,
through the thin curtain a birdsong
breaks the silent sky,
gently rippling the dream
that carried me through the night —
Where am I?
In you, lost inside your grace,
travelling eternal,
a seed of silence
now become the sky.
What am I?
The first utterance on your lips
when creation was yet
a mere figment of your imagination.
Why am I here?
To sing your pain and joy,
your endless glory,
and touching you be
all that I can be
in a life that fades more quickly
than lightening in the sky.
I now wake to make my cup of tea
and prepare my breakfast,
your ocean is moving inside of me,
or is it I stirring inside your ocean?
To the horror of reason
inward and outward lose distinction
and I cannot keep myself together,
cannot maintain my own skin
so I surrender and give in
to the sheer enormity of your presence.
I find myself diluted inside of you
as the hot tea breathes on my face,
as the dry fruits tease my tongue
with the want of your taste.