The Genesis
When this was born, radiant And the opening
moments when mouths immersed in the soil
wore the flesh of this place
Chlorophyll blood and seeds yellow in the loam
And the water, so beyond primordial in her slumber,
suffused pure glass sky,
beneath the cypress trees and the magnanimous
redwoods vertical
Reduced to one I stood
the planet
exhaling with a boom
My spirit cried out for a Navigator and Angel
I recall at that moment
the three African ladies
lifting their limbs in the East
Their embossed backs, and the fog they were
passing through dissipating as if it was loitering
to the west And vegetation of all shades
It was the sun, within me turning,
on fire, perfect, that was speaking And
the One I was truly, the One for this eternity,
the One steadfast in the quagmire
the One wrapped up in Heaven
I sensed the changing winds
above my crown
And his voice, like everything that was and will be,
instantly became the words of the forest, of the oceans:
"Your commandment", he uttered " is of this realm and so it is
and shall be done for you are of this realm
Learn and move onward
and battle." he said
"Each choose your tools," he commanded
And he extended his palms
an adolescent God painting hurt and
mirth at the same stroke
First the Seven Axes, wringing with power,
pulled from atop the summit of defenses,
toppled to the surface
as in the tempest
at its inception
from where the scent of a bird is formed
and starting anew
the essence was brandished fresh
and the monsters were manifesting human
So ultimately designed, the Unthinkable
Then every breath of my brethren reached too
the small lads with blown-out cheeks
and tails emerald and wide, like a manatee
and the others, elder men: comforting, aged
enamel-coated, gruff
And they cut the cloud in half, and half again
and what was left, the fragments drifted off
being followed they proceeded North
With vast pedestals and boldly, the grand Tower
walked across the lake
The spot where as far as the eyes can see winced
so identifiable, so condensed and immovable
This the opening song.
And I who I truly am, the One who for this eternity
the One steadfast in the quagmire, the One molded by God,
traced with my digits the horizon
lines
elevating at severe degrees to hills
descending below below: a soft bend
both within each other
islands and continents that caused me to notice
the odour of ground like knowing
so true it was
that the soil accompanied me willingly
blushing red in unseen areas
and elsewhere filled with minute fir pins
Then, more at ease,
the mountains, the valleys,
and after, with the fist gingerly in decline,
the meadows, the vistas,
and more, now, boulders rebellious and deserted
those of aggressive reactions
He paused a second to survey his creations
complex or grandiose:
Olympus,Taygetus were raised
"This will still be after you have gone," he stated
And he manufactured silk through the rocks
and fashioned shale from the core of the world
building elongated steps around the rise
There, by himself, he positioned
white sapphire hot springs
windmills of coral sky
small fleshy verandas
and large ventilated hummingbirds
Vanity with its four left bookends
And because he pondered at the beauty
he made love so to be embraced
the vast pools consumed with love
the herds dropped their foreheads slowly, cows and ewes
as if the world could not bribe
as if treachery had not yet been uttered
"To hold serenity you need fortitude," he said
and spinning around with hands open he made
iris, orchids, poppies
all kinds of surface delights
and etched into everyone the mark of the creator
their domination and resilience:
This clay
this glorious infinity!
But prior, the ecstasy of air melodious hung for the first time
as I ventured towards the panorama
( ascending an endless crimson yoke of sand
negating The Past with my shank )
I traversed my linens, searching but for what, this,
naive and turbulent like a winery
out of depth and innocent like a new sky
A frond of your being from this soil
Then with one word, the seas were and spoke
And I could not help but wonder in awe
At the middle, he placed little jewels familiar:
Stallions composed of crystal, full of vigor
and tranquility dawned its pillow of moss
and porpoises showing their fins
( Ios, Sikinos, Serifos, Milos )
"Every syllable a dove
gathering April in July", he said
And a multitude of orange groves
to bridle the luminescent with their hands
settling like a sheet, onto this night
and a chorus of eagles
but you can't remember that sound
and humility molts in the day
and so little water
replacing The Almighty like a commodity
and the Birch went solo and knew now who it was
without the floor that is left standing
so that its as close as skin
and you get where its from
fragile the earth you are standing on
and rooting is impossible without space
and dig further into your navel
and touch the air you encounter
remembering everywhere everything you are
THIS CLAY
this glorious infinity!
" And this sphere you must behold and take"
he said: See! And my cornea beheld the grains
out distancing even the precipitation
over a thousand untouched acres
The flint breathing in the darkness and
plumes of water out of nowhere
I was erasing the solitude to rethink
gold sprouting soothsayers and the amoebic words
The shovel still in my embrace
I witnessed the proud herbs, their silhouettes
some standing off and others mimicking
There the asparagus, there the kale
here the parsley curling
acanthus and dandelion
liatris and fennel
In secretive letters I reached for my name
" Magnificent," he said " you can read
and in time you will understand so much more
if you study the Insignificant in depth
And soon you will require assistance
Remember:
the zephyr full of dispute, the robust pomegranate
and the red hot fleeting kisses"
And his words settled like pollen
The ninth hour, partridge-like, beating into the deep heart of euphony
the houses stood in solidarity
petite and like a perfect box
arched white and entrances of blue
Beneath the lavender vines
In my mind but elsewhere
with a symphony of chirping
distant coos, twitter and tenors croaking:
There the stork and pelican
there the turtledove
there the mallard and the owl
And the mosquito was there too
and the Virgin's mare
At the banks my arms exposed to the sun
and surrounded by the seas
with one third between; groves of citrus
and the northwesterly wind being confronted
realigning the ozone's sky
Beneath the leaves
small pebbles worn smooth
and minute ears of flowers bickering
and sprouting inpatients which just are
This Clay
this glorious infinity!
Then I began to comprehend the tides and the
endless chatter of the trees
On the wharf sat three jugs painted red
and near the wood shutter
where I lay on my side
the wind from the north crowed loudly
And I saw
Breathtaking mermaids naked and soft as glass
with a touch of black nestled between the thighs
and flowing black locks that covered the shoulders
and standing upright they blew the conch
and others writing with chalk
exotic and words that convey:
ROES, ESA, ARMINA,
NUS, MIROLTAMITY, YELTIS
hyacinths and the whispering talk of birds
the many sounds of July
At the arm of eleven
five leagues deep
perch, goby, seabream
with large gills and small tails to rudder
Higher still I encountered
sponges and starfish
and thin speechless anemones gumming the words
and further up at the water's mouth
rose limpets translating the depths of blue
and mussels partially revealed and algae
" Treasured things," he said " ancient oaths
passed over by time and the gathering winds ears"
And by the wooden shutter
where I lay asleep on my side
I pulled the pillow against my body
and my eyes filled with water
I was in the sixth month of my love
and within my care a precious seed stirred
This clay
this glorious infinity!
" But first you will see the wilderness and give it your
own meaning," he said
" It will come before your heart and after it
Know this above all
whatever you retain in the lightning
will not be altered forever"
And high beyond the waves
he placed villages of stone
There the foam arrived as dust
I saw an emaciated goat tonguing the cracks
its eyes on an angle, its thin body hard as quartz
I endured the locusts and the thirst and the rough-jointed fingers
for the fixed number of years ordained by the wise
Hunched over papers and bottomless night
I went down a slender rope trying to understand
I sought whiteness to the utmost intensity
of blackness, hope to the point of tears
joy to the outer limit of despair
And help arrived when it was supposed to
and the task was allotted the rains
streams sang all day
I ran like mad
on the slopes I tore terebinth, my palm gave myrtle
freely to the breeze's bite
" This is Purity," he said
" the same on the slopes as in your guts"
And he opened his palms as would
an ancient experienced God fashioning clay
and heaviness together
He fired the mountain ranges so they were barely lit
and made the grass true green, untouched--- he
moved onto the ravines
mint, lavender, verbena
and the impressions of sheep in the dirt
or again elsewhere, descending free from the altitude
pale shards of light, frosted locks of a woman
I saw and desired
True Mother
" Glorious," he said, she is
and overcome by lust I cradled the form
Kisses lip to lip; then entangled
Riding a tempest
like a coat I stepped heavily
that the atmosphere hid in the caverns
Like a perfectly worn echo the fish
moved with grace, just below the surface
and higher, my feet for mounds and the sun as a brow
I pictured the great Ram ascending the sky
And the One I was truly, the One who for this eternity
the One steadfast in the quagmire,
the One tied to the clouds whispered when I asked
What is Good? What is Evil?
" A point A point
and with this quandary you will ascertain balance and be
and after it chaos and blackness
and before it the trumpets of angels
A point A point
and of this you can progress onward
or else, everything falls apart."
And the Standard that, with my arms spread
seemed to level the light and instinct, were
This clay
this glorious infinity!
Because minutes passed like days
with long flat purple foliage on the dial of Eden
I was the dial rolling
Tuesday Wednesday Thursday
June July August
Like a thunderbolt blushing I was dumbfounded
like vinegar The young woman's insects
Faraway stirrings of the Rainbow----
" This is all the period of innocence
the time of the pups and vermilion pods
a time that precedes what is necessary," he said
And he touched boldly danger with his fingers
And he put a blackened brow on the edge of the cape
Gathered from somewhere unknown he distributed light
" So that you may behold," he said
" inside your flesh
arteries of potassium, manganese
and the calcium enriched remains
of love"
My heart could not help but stall
it was the opening air of my first breath
the night came forward shouting
perhaps advancing towards me
the signs of trauma to the body of another
going back to the world above
Past, where my spirit ends
I watched secrets passing by, whispers of
high agricultural silos On the edge, nearby castles being carried
The North star Saint Marina with the monsters
And beyond that even, further than the waves crest
on the peninsula grounded by olive groves
I thought for an instant I could see Him
He who sacrificed to make me flesh and blood
with his beautiful blood
rising the thorny path of the Saint
once again
Once again
I saw the finest light from the five villages
the smooth surfaces of Yera barely touched
Papados, Plakados, Paleokipos, Skopelos, Messagros
the hand me down jewels of my family history
" But now," he said, " your true face must come
into the light, wholly"
and before I would ever know
a holy word or instinct, to just know
he held what nobody else colud hold
and twisting
with his arms outwardly
he redeemed the abyss of earthly things
and in the form of man:
the void of Death for the Coming Infant
the void of Murder for Just Judgment
the void of sacrifice for Equal Compensation
the void of the Soul for Responsibility Toward Others
And Evening, the plum
of the oldest moon stood
worn away by looking backwards
the remnants of abandoned stone circles and the
guiltless odour of waste, nestled within my
being and altered the faces with the doubt of
shade, adjusting the varnish of my outlooks
My stiff and rigid frame anchored to man
and silence is the only sound
except bottomless thumps, and lament that seethes
and cracks of skin in the mirrors
The scion of what nonexistent race I might be.
It was then that I knew
the ideas of Others
obtuse like the surface of a pearl
sliced me straight through piercing
I witnessed invisble walls in houses
aged ladies passed by, lanterns in their fingers
worry shorn on their foreheads and on the
ceiling and other young men, unshaven, reserved
hands at the hip, ready
for eons now.
" Can you see," he said with authority " you must
acquaint yourself with all the others and not be
led astray, if you desire your legacy to be what
it is now
There will always be opposers and challengers
and many speak with forked mouths, armadillos
and there are The Crude and the Water spiders
the Bread-farers and the Leadenfaced and the Neocondors
the flock and The Rest at the intersecting cross
of the Tetracty's "
" If you think you can handle them," he said
" you will be honed to a diamond and shine,"
he said
" Man your stations and defend," he said
And the One I was truly, the One who for this eternity,
the One steadfast in the quagnire
the One wrapped up in Heaven
overtook all of my senses and, became
who I am
At three o'clock in the early morning
beyond the shantys, aloft and from afar
the cock crowed for the first time
For an instant I beheld the Columns Standing,
the Metope of Awesome Beasts and Man sharing
the God and his truth untouchable
The Sun put on its position, the archangel bound
on my right
This I then
and the glorious infinity.
Interpreted by Kevin Harling.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
The Muse Conversations Pt 41
All the minutes, every white road, all the blue stars everything is hedging me closer to you.All the lily linen sheets stirring your skin to speak silent embraces, all the hours asphyxiated and sweating wet heartbeats, clinging to vines like dew.Your divine lips chanting a melody in every blue note,singing of breaking waters and sandy shorelines.I feel your footsteps upon my thoughts brow,softly tracing my outline, penciling my eyes curiosity.I see you in tissue paper dreams and Styrofoam clouds,in tidy folded clothes in a closet.I hear you in the winds quiet laughter, smiling.I touch you in the meadows grass, long and slender.I retrace all the seconds, lingering in hours,loitering in days painted by your words.You are as soft as a petal, as strong as the sky.I feel you now more than ever, permeating my skin like pumice, gentle and tenderly brushing against my interior.You have become my flight, my standing still, my hesitant forward steps, my epiphany.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
The Muse Conversations Pt 39 & 40
39
The sky feels conch today, all the clouds like jellyfish swimming towards you, the air heavily intoxicated by your sweet breath.The hours seem like a rift, a parting if you will, a temporary layover.Life plays its own hands, sorting and sifting, hurrying and delaying, the minutes we try to contain, the seconds like sand that slips through our hands.Across my eyes expanse, you fill the horizon, thoughts of you paint the land, everywhere you reside in the shape of honey.I can fill in all the blanks but one and that is you. I can number,colour and describe, punctuate and portray the wind and the water.But you somehow elude my words, your softness settles upon my brow like dew, and waits to be spoken.I feel coral and so full of palms, words try but cannot escape me,everything is reaching towards the sun, towards you.You are osmosis, I cannot dilute your potent salt, I taste your sea water and swelling, I tread your surfs and rolling tides,I swim only to drown in your cresting ways.I am drawn to your edges, to your center, we are emerging blue and full of so much promise.
Pt 40
I want to wrap you in lavender kisses, not allowing the wind to assume anything.I want to hold you in a hyacinth hug and forget about time.I want to nestle in your shallow brook and wade like a swan,all white and full of compromise.I want to sing like a dolphin, lovely blue notes soothing the sky and wind like a lullaby.I want to lay in your meadow lily, embraced by your fragrant wishes and linger like long minutes.I want to satiate my breath with your nectar ways, establishing my own reasons for wanting to be there.I want to cradle the moons orb and imagine how milk drapes your flesh in the night.I want to subdue the tempest distance, and collar the miles,bringing you closer and closer.I want this day to be unlike all the others, speaking only of you,writing only because of you.I want to pen something original, something heartfelt and tugging like strings, perhaps an Aria.I want you and nothing more, not for now, not for yesterday, but for every tomorrow I am blessed to have with you.
The sky feels conch today, all the clouds like jellyfish swimming towards you, the air heavily intoxicated by your sweet breath.The hours seem like a rift, a parting if you will, a temporary layover.Life plays its own hands, sorting and sifting, hurrying and delaying, the minutes we try to contain, the seconds like sand that slips through our hands.Across my eyes expanse, you fill the horizon, thoughts of you paint the land, everywhere you reside in the shape of honey.I can fill in all the blanks but one and that is you. I can number,colour and describe, punctuate and portray the wind and the water.But you somehow elude my words, your softness settles upon my brow like dew, and waits to be spoken.I feel coral and so full of palms, words try but cannot escape me,everything is reaching towards the sun, towards you.You are osmosis, I cannot dilute your potent salt, I taste your sea water and swelling, I tread your surfs and rolling tides,I swim only to drown in your cresting ways.I am drawn to your edges, to your center, we are emerging blue and full of so much promise.
Pt 40
I want to wrap you in lavender kisses, not allowing the wind to assume anything.I want to hold you in a hyacinth hug and forget about time.I want to nestle in your shallow brook and wade like a swan,all white and full of compromise.I want to sing like a dolphin, lovely blue notes soothing the sky and wind like a lullaby.I want to lay in your meadow lily, embraced by your fragrant wishes and linger like long minutes.I want to satiate my breath with your nectar ways, establishing my own reasons for wanting to be there.I want to cradle the moons orb and imagine how milk drapes your flesh in the night.I want to subdue the tempest distance, and collar the miles,bringing you closer and closer.I want this day to be unlike all the others, speaking only of you,writing only because of you.I want to pen something original, something heartfelt and tugging like strings, perhaps an Aria.I want you and nothing more, not for now, not for yesterday, but for every tomorrow I am blessed to have with you.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
The Muse Conversations Pt 34 & 35
34
How could their be nothing left to say, nothing left unsaid, you stayed never abandoning the night. I hold in my thoughts parchment tears rolled up and festering like a cold wind. It sends shivers of convalescing dreams across a lifetime of skies, heading nowhere and everywhere all at once, asking me , pushing me deeper to be swallowed by the sun. I cannot run nor hide among pillow stones standing waiting watching wondering to where I will surface next.
Today across the field of pebble, today amid the wreckage of a thousand sleepless nights, my nocturnal hands reach out to you, summoning you back from your deathless blue sleep.
This day is spurning my brow, turning my outsides in, calling your name from the highest summits I can hold.
This day begs for you, it kneels its shoulders upon your embrace asking pleading for your return.
Chivalry is not dead, it has languished in the quagmire of blood soaked battlefields awaiting the white dawn of truth. It is unforgiving and will not relent.
This day like an eddy, like an ebb and flowing lock of your hair, like the lips of your sweetest grace.
I will not let the hours have the last smile, this is my stand, and like a raven word I will not retreat, I look for you in the stars twinkle, in the iridescent watering crystal laugh of the moon. I feel you my heart beating pendulum. I await your words.
35
I set you free from the ghosts you cannot see
I release the shackle black pain, the raining water tears
of hours long ago past
I relinquish my hold of the wind, my parachute sky
I set you free blackbird, fly away
I surrender the reins of ink spilled in the margins
all the lines poorly composed, the syllables I spilled like blood
I surrender the consonants drum, the thumping verbs, the words
of so many silent sentences
I set you free blackbird, soar above the oceans vast
dive beneath sheets of sunshine and surface blue
I release the thorns and brambles, I set you free blackbird
free to swim any lands, free to walk any clouds
I relinquish the hours of holding you captive, let go of the chains,
your bondage is over, I set you free blackbird,
open all the windows white and doors shutters,
fly over the moon rainbow and sing.
I set you free from the ghosts you cannot name
i release the ropes of imprisonments smile
you are free, see the sky aquamarine and taste it
I set you free blackbird
How could their be nothing left to say, nothing left unsaid, you stayed never abandoning the night. I hold in my thoughts parchment tears rolled up and festering like a cold wind. It sends shivers of convalescing dreams across a lifetime of skies, heading nowhere and everywhere all at once, asking me , pushing me deeper to be swallowed by the sun. I cannot run nor hide among pillow stones standing waiting watching wondering to where I will surface next.
Today across the field of pebble, today amid the wreckage of a thousand sleepless nights, my nocturnal hands reach out to you, summoning you back from your deathless blue sleep.
This day is spurning my brow, turning my outsides in, calling your name from the highest summits I can hold.
This day begs for you, it kneels its shoulders upon your embrace asking pleading for your return.
Chivalry is not dead, it has languished in the quagmire of blood soaked battlefields awaiting the white dawn of truth. It is unforgiving and will not relent.
This day like an eddy, like an ebb and flowing lock of your hair, like the lips of your sweetest grace.
I will not let the hours have the last smile, this is my stand, and like a raven word I will not retreat, I look for you in the stars twinkle, in the iridescent watering crystal laugh of the moon. I feel you my heart beating pendulum. I await your words.
35
I set you free from the ghosts you cannot see
I release the shackle black pain, the raining water tears
of hours long ago past
I relinquish my hold of the wind, my parachute sky
I set you free blackbird, fly away
I surrender the reins of ink spilled in the margins
all the lines poorly composed, the syllables I spilled like blood
I surrender the consonants drum, the thumping verbs, the words
of so many silent sentences
I set you free blackbird, soar above the oceans vast
dive beneath sheets of sunshine and surface blue
I release the thorns and brambles, I set you free blackbird
free to swim any lands, free to walk any clouds
I relinquish the hours of holding you captive, let go of the chains,
your bondage is over, I set you free blackbird,
open all the windows white and doors shutters,
fly over the moon rainbow and sing.
I set you free from the ghosts you cannot name
i release the ropes of imprisonments smile
you are free, see the sky aquamarine and taste it
I set you free blackbird
The Muse Conversations Pt 36,37 & 38
36
Everything seems like it is seamed together
merging in the middle of a canvas stitch
and it took me all this time to move you
it took me all this time to find you feathers
and what is it like to be moved by you
from somewhere close to the middle of everything.
That everything tarpaulin swings and says it sways
someplace off the kilter laughing, and could you tell me
anything blue without your eyes,
that everything melody singing smiles childlike
talking around circles and mouth me lips
that everything true sunshine says very little
about the middle of just being sewn like a seesaw
horse as it is galloping nowhere the way you say it.
Everything is just happening yesterday today
the hours spelling minutes and seashells listening
to the waters wading wave on the horizons brow,
and it took me all this time just to meet you in the middle
of everything and you whispered it was nothing doors
opening and it took me this long just to tell you
and find you in the middle of everything.
37
Your lily skin ghosts that brush against my shores
calling me from my angels sleep, beckoning me nearer,
your doors my tears, my edges and fears,
I am not hiding anymore.
Your tiger flesh of magic carpet rides, your desert
oasis summoning me closer, to touch and hold,
to sink my kisses pomegranate, to stay
and embrace.
Your lily tides of flowing white garments,
your apparition of scarlet pink skin, wrapping me,
enveloping my ebbing words, waving goodbye,
and saying hello.
I am not hiding anymore, I feel your sky,
swim in your deep blue ocean, I soak in your radiant
sun, I graze in your yellow fields.
Tomorrow is a promise, today a wish
and yesterday was blissful orange, your lily white
tigers, calling me like a ghost.
38
The more I lose me, the more I find you
waiting in the lattice of the day, a trellis smile
laughing blue, a cloud of sunshine white and silver lined,
waiting upon a stars brow shining.
The more I lose me, the more I find you
watching a moonbeam manta ray swim, a wave wading
minutes sensual, a tide flowing over my flesh pink,
watching hours speak silent words.
The more I lose me, the more I find you
wondering fields green lazy hammock Sundays,
wandering white truth lines, crossing my fences,
posting kisses in the email mail boxes.
The more I lose me, the more I find you
lingering like linen, silky lace and lavender
loitering hours like laundry on a line wind blown
and happy, rejuvenated like air.
The more I lose me, the more I find you
hoping like a child, innocent and playing
like recess, skipping a heartbeat and wishing
joy and beauty, hoping that you find me to.
Everything seems like it is seamed together
merging in the middle of a canvas stitch
and it took me all this time to move you
it took me all this time to find you feathers
and what is it like to be moved by you
from somewhere close to the middle of everything.
That everything tarpaulin swings and says it sways
someplace off the kilter laughing, and could you tell me
anything blue without your eyes,
that everything melody singing smiles childlike
talking around circles and mouth me lips
that everything true sunshine says very little
about the middle of just being sewn like a seesaw
horse as it is galloping nowhere the way you say it.
Everything is just happening yesterday today
the hours spelling minutes and seashells listening
to the waters wading wave on the horizons brow,
and it took me all this time just to meet you in the middle
of everything and you whispered it was nothing doors
opening and it took me this long just to tell you
and find you in the middle of everything.
37
Your lily skin ghosts that brush against my shores
calling me from my angels sleep, beckoning me nearer,
your doors my tears, my edges and fears,
I am not hiding anymore.
Your tiger flesh of magic carpet rides, your desert
oasis summoning me closer, to touch and hold,
to sink my kisses pomegranate, to stay
and embrace.
Your lily tides of flowing white garments,
your apparition of scarlet pink skin, wrapping me,
enveloping my ebbing words, waving goodbye,
and saying hello.
I am not hiding anymore, I feel your sky,
swim in your deep blue ocean, I soak in your radiant
sun, I graze in your yellow fields.
Tomorrow is a promise, today a wish
and yesterday was blissful orange, your lily white
tigers, calling me like a ghost.
38
The more I lose me, the more I find you
waiting in the lattice of the day, a trellis smile
laughing blue, a cloud of sunshine white and silver lined,
waiting upon a stars brow shining.
The more I lose me, the more I find you
watching a moonbeam manta ray swim, a wave wading
minutes sensual, a tide flowing over my flesh pink,
watching hours speak silent words.
The more I lose me, the more I find you
wondering fields green lazy hammock Sundays,
wandering white truth lines, crossing my fences,
posting kisses in the email mail boxes.
The more I lose me, the more I find you
lingering like linen, silky lace and lavender
loitering hours like laundry on a line wind blown
and happy, rejuvenated like air.
The more I lose me, the more I find you
hoping like a child, innocent and playing
like recess, skipping a heartbeat and wishing
joy and beauty, hoping that you find me to.
Monday, November 16, 2009
New
Not The P-Word Again
How processional your pea pleas,
the way you divert your eyes parallelogram
into a plethora of porous non committal statements.
You would think by now the plaster on your lips would
have cracked, your proscrastinating sentences
that hit my ears posthumously, prickling the prickle
of my pears.
It seems pernicious to be honest, how you sink your teeth
into me, probing for answers with platitudes and
passing polyglots as answers, I wasn't born yesterday.
Well enough is enough, no more will you prevaricate the
conversation, undermining any truth or decency. I am
pining with pins, trembling like a tall pine, shivering like
a lone poplar.
I will adhere to your parlour games no longer,
the time for pleasantries has passed, I can taste
your pollen innuendos from a room away, and it pains me.
Take your polished veneer, your pool side tricks and
pack your bags, because this party is over.
Kevin Harling.
How processional your pea pleas,
the way you divert your eyes parallelogram
into a plethora of porous non committal statements.
You would think by now the plaster on your lips would
have cracked, your proscrastinating sentences
that hit my ears posthumously, prickling the prickle
of my pears.
It seems pernicious to be honest, how you sink your teeth
into me, probing for answers with platitudes and
passing polyglots as answers, I wasn't born yesterday.
Well enough is enough, no more will you prevaricate the
conversation, undermining any truth or decency. I am
pining with pins, trembling like a tall pine, shivering like
a lone poplar.
I will adhere to your parlour games no longer,
the time for pleasantries has passed, I can taste
your pollen innuendos from a room away, and it pains me.
Take your polished veneer, your pool side tricks and
pack your bags, because this party is over.
Kevin Harling.
The Muse Conversations E-book Link
http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/the-muse-conversations/7930496
The Muse Conversations Pt 31
My need to fly has been depleted, the wind has softened its face under
this chiseled exterior, and beneath my hopes all the cracks are being exposed.
How frail this present disposition, the water seems to be muted, and everywhere I reach
is silent, even though the night still whispers your name.
How precarious this new ground, like walking in a landscape of bubble-wrap, everywhere
is another landmine waiting to be unearthed.
Wounds are like feathers flying freely, but the scars remain.
I am solitary, silent as granite and eroding eternal.
I seep and bleed ink lines, and nowhere is safe to run and hide.
In the margins all is revealed, although some remains obscured by dust.
Where to go from here I hear myself say to the sky.
This journey is like an uncharted map recently discovered,
nothing is familiar and yet somehow it feels so.
The pieces are coming together slowly, and walls crumble slowly,
and the hours pass slowly.
I have removed some of the armour, my flesh bare, my heart open,
and still you beckon.
Time is not an ally but a foe.
The past is like a window one cannot fully close, I have tried to board them over
to no avail, tried to remove them and still the air finds a way in.
I am a shell of a man, a raisin of hope, and yet you see fit to put me up on the altar
of love like some kind of dark prince.
I dream of you angel, I touch your halo and someday hopefully
the stars magic dust will make everything just fade away.
I want so many things from this time, to frequent this place with an open heart and end.
I am giving you my thoughts, my breath, my lifeblood of work,
and one day I will give you all.
this chiseled exterior, and beneath my hopes all the cracks are being exposed.
How frail this present disposition, the water seems to be muted, and everywhere I reach
is silent, even though the night still whispers your name.
How precarious this new ground, like walking in a landscape of bubble-wrap, everywhere
is another landmine waiting to be unearthed.
Wounds are like feathers flying freely, but the scars remain.
I am solitary, silent as granite and eroding eternal.
I seep and bleed ink lines, and nowhere is safe to run and hide.
In the margins all is revealed, although some remains obscured by dust.
Where to go from here I hear myself say to the sky.
This journey is like an uncharted map recently discovered,
nothing is familiar and yet somehow it feels so.
The pieces are coming together slowly, and walls crumble slowly,
and the hours pass slowly.
I have removed some of the armour, my flesh bare, my heart open,
and still you beckon.
Time is not an ally but a foe.
The past is like a window one cannot fully close, I have tried to board them over
to no avail, tried to remove them and still the air finds a way in.
I am a shell of a man, a raisin of hope, and yet you see fit to put me up on the altar
of love like some kind of dark prince.
I dream of you angel, I touch your halo and someday hopefully
the stars magic dust will make everything just fade away.
I want so many things from this time, to frequent this place with an open heart and end.
I am giving you my thoughts, my breath, my lifeblood of work,
and one day I will give you all.
The Muse Conversations Pt 30
I wonder if I was cleared for take off? Whether if I botched the landing
would it matter, but from the glass blue surface of the water,
I failed to see what difference it might make.
Ripples, turbulent, askew and slightly adrift of buoyant
seemed to percolate like bubbles, beading like the dew of freshly laid ink.
These penned sentences of truth leading down a runway of no turning back,
climbing its ascent through clouds of white possibility, carelessly letting go
of the ground, and forgetting to check its bearings.
I failed to see what difference it made to get lost, letting one’s compass
spin into overdrive, somewhere west of magnetic north and still heading
eastward. Nomadic as a syllable let loose in any line, free to stir , gather and gallop
upon any Bermuda triangle it came across.
I disregarded the directions, tossed the map into the ashtray, gliding into auto-pilot,
and steering towards where the horizon looked the flattest.
Lo and behold, laying undiscovered, was an oasis of beauty, still natural and innocent, still
Edenesque and pure. The island of you, unconquered curves of unparalleled sublimity, so breathtaking, so utterly magnificent, that I became
Robinson Crusoe on purpose and never regretted a single hour.
would it matter, but from the glass blue surface of the water,
I failed to see what difference it might make.
Ripples, turbulent, askew and slightly adrift of buoyant
seemed to percolate like bubbles, beading like the dew of freshly laid ink.
These penned sentences of truth leading down a runway of no turning back,
climbing its ascent through clouds of white possibility, carelessly letting go
of the ground, and forgetting to check its bearings.
I failed to see what difference it made to get lost, letting one’s compass
spin into overdrive, somewhere west of magnetic north and still heading
eastward. Nomadic as a syllable let loose in any line, free to stir , gather and gallop
upon any Bermuda triangle it came across.
I disregarded the directions, tossed the map into the ashtray, gliding into auto-pilot,
and steering towards where the horizon looked the flattest.
Lo and behold, laying undiscovered, was an oasis of beauty, still natural and innocent, still
Edenesque and pure. The island of you, unconquered curves of unparalleled sublimity, so breathtaking, so utterly magnificent, that I became
Robinson Crusoe on purpose and never regretted a single hour.
The Muse Conversations Pt 32
The Muse Conversations Pt 32
Upon this mantle trellis of interwoven lattice hope
all the tinsel stalks me, all the wayward glances keep
coming back like mirrors. The faces I look into like glass portraits, smooth and perfect china.
Where do we go from here if not forward, my porcelain chin slightly askew of yesterday and still.
Still I roam nomadic through a world of fine silver,
watching the table settings, minding my elbows and knees.
I surrender today and submit tomorrow to the wind, I release the sky blue and let go of the clouds. I spew the ocean breath in lines of diluted salt.
Where is this heading if not West of here, across plateaus of umber green fields, out to the peopled
spaces of confession.
Here I am, standing stone and eroding in all the right places, this flesh mired by its own forgiveness, wrinkled by its own need to feel love.
I am wading mirrors, walking on brittle circumstance and yet still untethered by the stars.
Onward this goes, toward the horizon, touching ankles and necks with trinkets of hope. I will never give up,
these words cannot remain silent, and the silence becomes me.
Upon this mantle trellis of interwoven lattice hope
all the tinsel stalks me, all the wayward glances keep
coming back like mirrors. The faces I look into like glass portraits, smooth and perfect china.
Where do we go from here if not forward, my porcelain chin slightly askew of yesterday and still.
Still I roam nomadic through a world of fine silver,
watching the table settings, minding my elbows and knees.
I surrender today and submit tomorrow to the wind, I release the sky blue and let go of the clouds. I spew the ocean breath in lines of diluted salt.
Where is this heading if not West of here, across plateaus of umber green fields, out to the peopled
spaces of confession.
Here I am, standing stone and eroding in all the right places, this flesh mired by its own forgiveness, wrinkled by its own need to feel love.
I am wading mirrors, walking on brittle circumstance and yet still untethered by the stars.
Onward this goes, toward the horizon, touching ankles and necks with trinkets of hope. I will never give up,
these words cannot remain silent, and the silence becomes me.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
The Muse Conversations Pt 1- 29
The Muse Conversations
Pt 1
What have I done to deserve so beautiful a posture,
so gracefully your words spoon my mind like a swan,
how fragile the moons glance I see flickering,
outward I sense my heart fluttering, pining all that is you,
groping in this shadowy space to hold your eyes fast,
i feel needles poking my skin, asking things I want,
you the flower of morning who summons such thoughts,
these lines a testament to my willingness to open,
I feel you my muse, every peach drop of juice you spill,
your words like sunlight warming this spirit
serenely: but with a zest, I walk water for you,
gliding without moving I glisten with your dew,
I am melting like the hours looking for you,
I palm the consonants as if your body, stroking each one
as if it is the sweetest myrrh, drinking more than my cup full,
you the blossoming light who extracts such blue wonder,
angels feign in your glowing circumstance, the way
you exalt such lofty ideals of what true love is,
pinpricks resound these lines, echoing the ground to shake,
egging mountains to move themselves, you erode all my defenses,
I am chalk white hollow bliss, surrendering the wind and sea,
I edge further crawling over broken glass and feeling no pain,
to you I would endure every hardship, any compromise,
tickling keys talk, chattering joyful sounds, swimming
rivers with hands who will not rest, I am getting closer,
I touch your apple skin, tasting the core with a foraging hunger,
to sweet cool beading lust that builds feverishly,
I denounce any worldly happiness, discarding any meaningless fancy,
for this abounds with truth, it asks nothing, demands nothing but
to be heard, to be read as if it lives, and it does live,
it grows like the fire you ignite, like the salt of my skin
you have tasted, I am nearing, hedging closer still.
Pt 2
My eyes are wide shut, holding you locked with their amber gaze
here upon a mantle a gargoyle silently watching,
sitting pondering your beautiful lips that speak such perfume,
stones calm within this place,
you are the only sound I hear,
yours the only voice that feels like the softest warm drizzle,
here I am my most precious princess, waiting
time could stop or flee and here I will remain,
a guardian floating above the city clouds,
I am here with my chivalrous heart, waiting
I feel your footsteps from a thousand miles away
tenderly hovering above my brow, subtle dew,
you are a meadow harbour, a sunlit beam of radiant bliss,
you are euphoria, dreams are not made of such things,
I am here and here I shall be, gracing the hours with mindful play,
splashing in a puddle of love, O to caress your arches and sing,
to converge upon your slender limbs of elegance and delay the minutes,
your flesh tangerine glow that sends shock waves down my core,
I am here my angel, watching over the pendulum swings of moonlight,
transfixed by your ambient tones, your mellow avenues,
here I am, holding you like a diamond, your translucent prisms sparkling,
I see you, I am in you, I taste your almond butter sonnets.
Pt 3
If you are to be written , then it will be by my words, it will be my pen outlining your sugary surfaces, my ink that will spell out your succulent geography, my syllables that will sound out your curvaceous outline, my consonants that will sound out your perfect angles, my verbs that will describe your exquisite shape, your beautiful periphery, your angular disposition that makes my eyes twinkle.
If you are to be written it shall be I who traces the lines of your opaque peach, I who climbs the summit of your fragile and tender eyes, the way they flicker with mystery in the shadows, it will be I who
swims your valleys oceans, drowning deep in your sweet waters.
If you are to be written, I will leave nothing to chance, I will detail every nuance, search every nook of your perfection and shed its fleshy pink beauty.
I am the author of your book, I will glean the pages with sunshine, I who sees beyond what can be seen and invests my heart in every sentence, who makes all the verses sing your virtue, you are the eloquent moon that lights up my night sky.
I am the author, the one who when all is said and done, reads every line as if it was the most precious
ever written.
Pt 4
I cannot possibly contain the stars this evening,
I cannot hold back the ocean of emotion that floods my
solitary banks. I am breached,
I tried with everything I had to sequester the wind,
but alas I fell short, and you blew a little further away,
I thought about distance and how it crowds my minds eyes,
how if I allow it, I drown in a rainfall of loneliness,
but I stopped took a deep breath, gathered hold of the reins and found sunshine, I found you
I found rainbows and tranquility dreams, I saw the sky smiling
your smile,
I descended within myself to the middle, to where everything stirs,
the place where upon my pillow heart you rest, here among the softest meadows you reside, undisturbed by miles or time, here like a morning dove
you sing to my heart so lyrically I have to stop and again catch my thoughts breath,
I feel your whispering hands upon my naked dreams, nestled upon my waist
with wild staring eyes, I lose myself in such vistas, I would sooner sleep there than be anywhere else, holding your graceful face and shielding anything away but my mouth,
I flutter amid your trembling limbs of surrender, your ruby red lips parting like the most still sea, gently I feel the surging tides of two bodies emerging, becoming the soil,
I see this place where stones sit idle, eroding to the panting breath of two who have merged into one hope, into one blissful life, entwined like the most precious yarn,
I am subdued by these thoughts, spilling like a fountain that rejuvenates my spirit with every new encounter, O such joy has never walked these paths, surely this is Heaven.
Pt 5
I listen to the sound of bluebells shimmering in the early dusk,
the way she sighs just so, crocuses and things of feather weight,
light fluffy spooned dreams, the song of a loon drifting across a
quiet blue lake.
Such places untouched by human hands, unspoiled and pristine,
the vaulted ceilings of my mind at play.
Then there is you like a lighthouse beacon in a shrouded mist,
calling me, come here, come here,
all the ocean stops rolling, the wind listens to the sirens call,
and I settle like a soft silted quilt.
You are the harbour where I seek refuge, my rejuvenating waters,
my steady rock, you make the world still.
I feel my breath in your heartbeats, in your tender sighs, in your
carefully crafted lines of liquid pumice.
I am a sponge soaking all that you let go, immersing my flesh in your supple bosom skin, I cling to your channels like a lost vessel found.
O tempest storm that brought me to your fragrant shores, I thank you,
for now this shipwrecked heart has found its sandy dunes, its coves of coral
pink eyes.
I kneel and abandon the sea, for it is your land I long to comb, your sea shell island that i want to retire to, I shiver with prayers and hands cupped in gratitude, for I am not wayward but nearer the stars than I have ever been before.
I hear your words mouth petals falling like the dew that encroaches upon the leaves, I hear because I want to listen to no other sound.
Pt 6
Like two holy temples, sacred, tenements to the faith we have both
sacrificed so much for, two red blood hearts swaying in unison,
a single wave upon an ocean sky of powder perfect blue,
together, hands held with delicate grace, sheltered, loving
and finding ways to caress anew.
This dreamland of blushing clouds, a sky that whispers sweet french kisses, the air full of tongues and fingers probing eternity,
seeking pleasure through linen lines of silk,
this haven from all that disrupts, this home of utter tranquility,
this is where you have brought me my dear.
High above the rocky turbulent world, soaring with falcons,
carefree and laughing, this language of a love that is above earthly love,
angel love, flying on wings made by Cupid himself, floating
here among the turrets of emerald towers.
I am walking on puffy white clouds, barefooted and sensing only you,
I eat your chalice of golden worship, adorned by thoughts of truth and
sincerity, nothing can sway me, no winds can take you away, you are boundless, free and walking within me.
Days meld into minutes, into hours the seconds I photograph with subtle
words, into sentences professing my enamoured heart, you are a black pearl, an elegant albatross, you rise before every dawn and set with all
my hopes, you are my pillow down, my softest hello.
Like two holy temples, eroding time with outstretched columns reaching for one another, lifting each other up with mouths that can never be satiated, with fingers that when locked cannot be torn asunder, you drift
towards me never away, edging deeper and deeper into my flesh.
This is the world you have created, your genesis, your beginning that has no end, for these words will live forever, this ethereal wonderland of longing to be closer than close, and no matter how far it is always near, for I carry you like my breath always within, my lungs announce you, my lips speak only of you, forever.
Pt 7
So many needs, I waltz on pins, my craving fingers and eyes
your tangerine flesh that sears my lust with throbbing desire,
I am lost in a wilderness of delicious naughty thoughts,
blindfolds and ropes made of flesh, my flesh,
to wrap you in my abdomen, and feel the sky shriek at the sight of your naked ankles pinned against my walls,
oh what wicked nights satin sinks my shoulders, heavy breathing and wanting sighs,
to taste your strawberry valley, slowly, with an eager zest for more,
for all, to be consumed by passionate heat that cannot be measured in farenheit,
I want you, to swallow your orbs of radiant alabaster, gnawing with a
loving playfulness, to spur you on, towards my writhing form,
to impale your legs downward and see the moon thrusting beside me,
this night you are mine, and I am yours wholly,
nothing but hot sweat running in beads, and friction
Pt 8
Snowflakes feel this breath, and as you melt so do I,
these words like plush velvet that can lull the moon to sleep, words
that when spoken silence any windy doubters. Can you feel them echo down this most unusual forever? Do you sense it, can you feel
how these words trickling like ivy, seep into all the crevices, leaving nothing unturned, I have felt your leaves falling, I have climbed your
vines of disbelief. Put such thoughts to rest now petal.
Tonight you are a fair maiden, not in need of rescue but solace,
this evening you are a fairytale princess, a one slipper-ed Cinderella,
tonight is made up of quests and rescues. But most of all tonight
is devoted to love, requited love, love that gives itself with total reckless abandon.
Tonight the stars blush like diamonds, and while they twinkle,
the air perspires, the wind takes a long deserved rest, while two figures
make the night wish it was never going to end.
Yes my beloved this is about such things, about chocolate raspberry lips
tracing one another hungrily, about tongues of sugar trying to find new ways to get in, about candy floss legs that give up their secrets and wish that the night would linger, on and on until tomorrow breaks.
This is about such things my beloved, how when i cradle your manger, you rock to the hips grinding music, holding back the sensual songs you have longed to sing, this is a night of hands that hold destiny in a kiss of teeth, about kneading bodies that long to become mesh.
This is a night of dreams.
Pt 9
How solemnly bliss are these moments of flickering light,
how serene these nocturnal breaths like tides sweeping the sky,
sweeping in unpronounced and yet with such clarity of vision,
this is
a sky undone by your gaze, by your uncomplicated ways,
like a dove you hover in my light, speaking soft delights,
ushering in each new day, like a feather air bound and wistful.
How beauty shows its peach in each refined word you polish,
the way your lips wrap themselves around each letter and utter
them tenderly, naturally, the way they were meant to be spoken.
How can I follow such magnificent lines, flowing like a spring brook
shedding its winter retreat, cascading like blue waterfall, elegantly
falling from your tender pomegranate mouth into my reservoir.
I am fondling the dew here among a field of stars, sauntering like
a bumblebee, happy and gay, not a care in this world or any other,
your words take me away, whisked like a magic carpet to some
magical plateau high above any clouds known to man.
I hope that my words don't fall short, that I don't fumble or
falter, for you deserve perfect crafted honeydew syllables,
you deserve to be swept into the heavens on a chariot made of gold
kisses with arms that embrace you so tenderly that it makes a mother
weep with contented joy.
Forgive me if you hear my heart patter, I am feeling overwhelmed,
you have intoxicated my world with wine and song, made every hour
seem like it could not be outmatched, stretched the ocean with
strands of pure silk, made the nights taste like satin, and all I
can do is dream about your aquamarine distance, how miles apart
you inhabit every minute like time.
I would not trade my place with Mickey Mouse in Disneyland.
Pt 10
The Letter
How can I translate upon this page love's virtue, how is it possible to give a voice to
my heart that you have so fully inebriated with laurel, how when the wind whispers it is your song it warms and plants upon my lips.
My darling, the days minutes trace your outline, every centimeter of your silhouette framed like a masterpiece, the seconds like paint keenly brush stroked upon the canvas you have so gracefully decreed to my possession.
If I am to be its caretaker then I accept the honour willingly.
I feel the passion swell within me, engorging every facet of my being, my mind races in circles shaped like heartbeats, fluttering your sweet name.
My love time stands still and holds your hand, it writes each letter of your name with the most beautiful calligraphy ever handcrafted.
You are more perfect than a rose, every petal equally proportioned and imbued with divinty.
I take steps back in awe of your cherry blossom cheeks, your iridescent eyes that make me forget the minute that just swept by, and yet even there you linger.
My sweetheart our flesh is interwoven, together the tapestry sheds its silk in passionate lines, every letter belonging to this union that beams with sunshine.
You are the blue sky swimming, the leaves of autumn that bleed crimson
kisses, the winter white of every snow angel made with love.
You are love my dear, so please do not ask me to translate love's virtue,
let me just nestle upon your brow like a butterfly and soak in your radiance, let me sleep under your bedroom eyes aquamarine and dream of
nothing else.
Pt 11
Eternity is not long enough for me, my beloved picnic,
I am immersed in your pink folds, entwined in the blue buffet of you,
time ticks in the dew hours covered by our embrace,
meadow dreams and soft trickling waters, the sound of delicate wind
blowing gently against my ears, I am wrapped in the blue balloon sky,
floating somewhere above your gaze, silently admiring all that is you,
you are everything, how delectable a peach, how sweet the pulp I savour,
No eternity is not long enough for me, my thirst for you will linger
past such pebbles that time may throw our way,
my flesh craves your limbs embrace, I cling to your juicy feel,
your tangerine glow that lights my eyes with fiery passion that will not give way,
eternity is not long enough my beloved.
Pt 12
How does one touch a lily, gently of course, but how do you
handle such grace, such beauty. I hold you within these hands, delicate flower, within you I see my eyes returning to me. Such beauty to behold sways my thoughts to tall soft grasses dancing in the sunlight, innocence at play, meandering the hours and not counting. I feel the flesh on flesh play, gathering in my heart, all the world stops and all i hear is your breath. Your breathing lips summoning me, be mine, be mine.
Surely this is bliss, I feel my skin ripple seconds, minutes hours, I lose track nothing else matters, it all pales in comparison to you.
Tongues tasting plums, darting between in and out like a tango, I feel you
close in, surrounding all that is, was and will ever be. You are the hands of time, perspiring. I taste your salt, so sweet and alluring, you entrance all that I am. How do you hold a lily, just like this I hear my heart say, just like this.
Pt 13
As you awaken ,
before the day has had the chance to settle,
before the dew has fully been erased,
and the sun has not stretched fully,
May the dreams fall off you slowly,
gently rolling like feathers,
may soft rain mists touch you with my fingered words,
caressing you tenderly.
May this day be filled with the sound of my heartbeat,
like a friendly wind, embracing you,
cradling you with loving arms.
May this day shelter you in my warmth,
may it encircle you with my kisses,
so that all you see is my eyes, holding you,
this day is made of love, may it tickle you
in all the places my smile does,
may you know no worry, or feel no pain,
for we are more than two, we are one breathing wish,
one breathing whisper, we are this day.
Pt 14
When it rains purple you are the umbrella,
when the sky shades itself in gray you find the way to see it blue,
when the day feels more like night, you bring in the lightness,
when time tries to run away your hands make it walk,
whenever I am nomadic you become my oasis, my island retreat.
To you my safe haven tempest, the one who makes me shudder,
when my heart glows bright, when the smiles are inside.
Just for you,
I pen my devotion, I pledge my ink, I trace your paper eyes
with flowing tributes of kisses and when the dust settles
and sleep casts its neon, you are my anchor.
To you I surrender my soul, to you I bequeath my dream stars.
I give you every thought rendered, every syllable breathed,
every lines white cloud. I keep my eyes so I can see only you.
Pt 15
I felt the night feign and look away upon discovering your soulful words,
I heard the moon shudder, and trembling the sky dipped out of sight,
I saw the blue ocean drown itself in black water. Such things cannot
be permitted to happen my precious conch.
How can someone hold a rose and colour it anything but beautiful?
How can love be torn asunder so, it is shame that fills my heart.
Nobody should be able to take that away from one so precious.
From this moment on, not a minute will wane without my embracing
love, not an hour will pass without my tender hands holding your heart.
The time has come for the roots to take hold, today dawns a new day,
one where the power of true passionate love brings in the light and
ushers out the darkness, no more shadowy underworld.
Today my precious pebble you can blossom, cast out those
stones, for your heart will no longer be allowed to erode.
This is a brand new day, from this day forward , love speaks
not in whispers but it shouts with joy, it laughs with lips of glee.
Throw away all that was and today look in that mirror and know
that you are more than cherished my dear, you are worshiped.
The Muse Conversations Pt 16
Good Morning my darling,
Before I rise you are my sleepy dreams twinkling
My eyes breathe your peach flesh
I taste your thoughts and wishes sweet
Everywhere you mirror my heart
The autumn wind sings your name
Heaven wears your red beating garment
You are my ocean day, my sky night twinkling
I follow your moon, I crave your sun
I whisper your waves, you ripple me.
Pt 17
For you I will ascend the mountain republics
climb the scales of any height, I will forage in the rain soaked dirt,
I will swim any water-falling ocean, I will move any stone blockade,
open any door of thorns, nothing can deter this spirit now.
You have cleared all the bramble, diluted all the brine,
exhausted all my excuses, for to you I am an open book,
all my pages sheer and revealed, I cannot hide for the sky
would surely embrace your call.
I feel the weight of your presence surrounding me, your
eyelash substances, your fingernail manicured lips pouting
just so, how in a flicker I come undone, my heart racing like a
galloping mollusk towards your shores.
I am silk to your touch, my cheeks like reddened grapes,
my hands meeting this earth that is you.
How immaculate the sensations you arouse, how utterly
transparent my guise of feigning your kiss, how foolish a
man can be, I lose sight of my face in your face, I am
glass and you are crystal, shimmering diamonds and still.
I have tasted the roses blood in you, felt their petals tremble,
seen my heart flicker in the shadow of your lips of gossamer,
I am drowning in a sea of love, in a bliss so deep I can't tell
where the sky ends and the water begins.
But please don't save me.
Pt 18
Like a marble block you have chiseled away the excess,
your noble hands extracting my sculpture, slowly
and with such attention to detail, refining,
bringing to blossom my once granite features.
I stood watching your delicate trillium fingers,
delving deeper into my skin, molding and
furrowing to the roots, such delicacy the way
you accentuated these features, carving my flesh
like earth.
I could not help but ponder why? Why you would invest
so much time and effort into this lifeless figure?
And yet beneath this cold stone exterior, I felt my
heart stir like violin strings, the adagio you were
composing with each beautiful chip.
My armour has been exposed, you the butterfly who
gave me wings, wings to fly further than the sky,
to soar where air breathes life.
To where can I send my gratitude if not to the stars
that twinkle within your eyes, where do I announce my
thankfulness for your dexterity, your graceful touch
that sheds all my pasts, you gave me the light, you
ushered away all the darkness.
You are my temple, you are a pillar of soft white kisses, I am pierced eternally by your jasmine presence that builds and lifts me up like a column
of scented dew.
I am enamoured by you my architect, my darling
luminous cloud of silver linings, to you there is no end but only beginnings.
Pt 19
We are both castaways, adrift on an ocean of words, surrounded by a sky of fresh blue sentences,
a world where nothing else matters but the sounds of our joyous lines.
My angel breath, my apricot veil of tranquility, you subdue any gray wind and colour it sunshine, you imbue my heart with sugar embraced kisses.
I live on your island of rose petals, the fragrant mornings of bliss overcome all of my senses, filling my pen with thoughts of only you.
You are my dawn, my sunset and everything that runs between like the water that crashes against our shores,
you fill the sky with the sound of love.
Meadow pier standing still upon these footsteps, like a wave,
I cannot gallop, nor march, for sublime is how the clock ticks,
the wind ushers in its own agendas, like dignity and grace,
balance seems very much the order of the day, and yet, still
You stray outside the boundaries, hovering like an apparition of scarlet,
waiting like the night air, loitering like the sheets of any question or demand.
You hang like a perfect ornamental necklace around my throat, shimmering emerald, and my eyes were green with envy, how You and I reside there,
holding your lips in the angles of the kiss, looking out windows blue,
I remember olive groves and all the places there was only two, fields yellow
flowing like a river running out all over piers and meadows and just two.
Pt 20
I sit here upon a sky of ten thousand words
standing like a stone with blue wondering eyes
and like diamonds everything shimmers white
and levels like a plateau veranda yellow
and somewhere between the letter ankle and neck
you emerge like a rainbow arch without suggesting
I hammock here I sit upon a sky of ten thousand words
asking, answering, gathering at my knees vows
On the page that
stares at you empty,
it dares you to become you,
to create alabaster horizons,
to draw fine china skin soft,
to invent places and colours,
to see what is not there
and put it just so,
it involves no preconceptions,
no pretense
it just asks of you to
listen to your breath,
to grasp hold of the
passion that stirs and write,
bleed ink as if it was air.
Pt 21
Magnolia dove
mulberry moon
chamomile silhouette
of a rainbow
lemon
Because of you I levitate beyond the blue sky
my red balloon breaths of silk soft to your touch.
Because of you I walk water clouds of pollen
and do not question the wind beneath my feet.
Because of you rainbow rains embrace my skin
in drops of sweet myrrh , you the beads forming.
Because of you the skies smile azure and sigh
the weight of life falling away like yesterday.
Because of you night cradles my pillow sleep
and dreams not in a hurry but slowly gently.
Because of you tomorrow shines radiant cheeks
suggesting joy and laughter in the same word.
Because of you day becomes a companion true
and distance is a mere formality of twinkling stars.
Because of you Heaven is closer than the ground
and angels speak your name in silent whispering bliss.
You are the sun that bled for me
downward you beat like an angel
drop.
You the wind that caressed my skin
colouring my days like the sand
spelling my name.
You are the water living blue that
swam with me across oceans vast.
You my thought rainfall nights
that spoke to the moon with
nocturnal whispers.
You are my blessing.
Pt 22
I who looks at white and sees wonder
Me who wanders the sky’s hope
Myself whom knows the night
All of me who forgets to question
Oh magnanimous spring
Oh scarlet lighthouse of summer
Oh veiled crystalline autumn
Oh ventriloquist dew of winter
You are the alabaster moon
the ripened sun of grapes
I could fill every page
with landscapes
and the litany of ideas
and beauty.
So what am I left with beside exquisite,
besides eloquent lengths of pearl ankles
and scarlet blushes that touch Heaven,
So,
Whatever you do, leave the sky where it is
let the air fall to the sea tourmaline
and when the quiet ascends hush white
whispers and when the dawn descends its
glacial curtain don’t bother to change
it couldn’t be more perfect.
Pt 25
I can stitch together paper boulders out of cotton
whistles and still the wind utters your scent, blue
fills the water ink dress of your brow, I stall sit
wanting, waiting like a turquoise whisper, silent,
how you extract my air with eyes of emerald wonder
the days that taste like you, chins and ankles sheer,
I can weave a thread silk stocking legs your limbs
architectural heights blossoming church where I worship,
kneeling under your nape curved silhouette,
The Poet
I made the rain soft fleshy peach, do you feel the pink beads of sweat?
Can you sense how I immerse your skin in my waters, how we drown in
the same tide pools.
I made the grey delicious, mysterious full of long probing fingers,
I gave it sight and hands to touch you with, inside and out.
I feel the rain my love, I feel it trickle down your mantle of curves,
running down slender folding channels, I feel it as if it is my breath.
I am the waterfall that splashes your bosom, I am the wet sky you run to for
shelter.
We are osmosis, merging to emerge and merge again like the dew.
Let me swim in your waters, night or day, black or white.
Let me be swallowed up whole, I do not want to resurface.
i feel myself reaching for the ground, to make sure its still there
the sound conch and enveloping the stars
your eyes crystal and eroding my shells
i feel your architecture gathering around my knees and I am
falling like tiny pebbles from a cradle
The Poet
I have this desire, for all that is you
whether it be by tongue, your sweet taste,
whether it be by mind, your sexy way of thinking,
whether it be by hands, that cannot control the need to touch you,
whether it be by fingers, who want to unlock all your secret places,
i have a craving hunger to drink you up
to immerse my flesh in your flesh
to lose my way in your plush words
to embrace your lips with mine, this night and every night
forever
The Poet
I love you no matter the hurt, or pain
I place no decrees upon you, I pledge only love,
unconditional and eternal.
I love you because you are who you are,
through the bruises and bumps,
I will undress you because to me naked is what you are,
carnal, true, unflinching, and yet still supple.
I love you more each moment, I feel your indecisiveness,
I realize you feel vulnerable as do I,But I love you regardless of doubts, I place no conditions upon this love.
I love you for what you are, not are becoming
The Poet
I am here and always will be
your safe haven, your biggest pillow,
your softest sky, here I am
with a heart that bleeds yours
The Poet
I ache for you in places long since gone cold
I thirst for your breath
I hunger for your soft skin brushing beside mine
I long for your strawberry kisses, your searching lips
I crave your thoughts, your exacting words, your insatiable curiosity
I am in love with all of this and more baby
Pt 26
I accept with an open heart your softly whispered caresses,
I offer my undying love and respect in return for your most graciously
gestured gift.
I love the way you say love, full of conviction.
I woke this morning like normal to the breathing of a dove, such
simple and understated words that hold me abreast.
I adore you my radiant butterfly, your wings glisten with me.
I will soar with you to untold summits,
I will investigate any depths, with you by my side.
I love you now, as I did yesterday, as I will tomorrow.
You are my pillow cradle, in your glow I submit my sleep.
I love you my darling angel.
Pt 27
Still closer, like an advent of hearts
opening like the sun upon this new day,
reaching for the wind with fingers yearning to feel.
I cling to your alabaster shoulders of peach,
you my steadfast fruit of desire, who prolongs my destiny.
Still closer to your nearness of hearth that wades in my eyes,
your slender limbs like legs of tall grass,
that saunter into my life like the days without hours.
Still closer, still closer to that infinite grace,
your gazelle like exterior that that extracts this tourmaline,
polishing and refining these words, as if they are predestined.
I adhere to you my new moon sun, my fallen angel, my glorious
blue sky, I am the tresses under your wings, holding you aloft.
Still closer, this granite interior eroding like sand, tiny glass
pebbles, smoothed by your eloquent ways that calm my storms.
This is an advent, I am getting closer, I can hear your heart beating,
I can sense you in me, I call for your touch, to be held by your flight,
I am nearing my love.
Pt 28
A Clearing
Their you go again, opulent and fabric silk lips
speaking about interwoven tapestries and chalk
board silhouettes of the finest silver and gold
leaf mouths that wrap themselves around and pout
like sunshine tinsel paper.
I look up to sky blue and not asking anything of me
or the window pane wind that whispers about curtains
shimmering like silver dollar charms, and all I can
remember, is the way the moon shone stars in your eyes.
I follow where I have never tread, and in that place where,
only you could take me, the dawn pokes me onward,
and the light gathers in the West valley
sunset, I see swan white kisses shaped like hearts,
and the sound of your smile.
Their you go again , spinning yarn gold trinkets
for me to trip over, in the mirrors vertical stare,
take me there.
Pt 29
I will have to circumnavigate the summit of Mt Vesuvius,
raise it from its ashes and tilt it on its axis, so that
water can speaks its liquid.
I would have to topple the Eiffel Tower steel, without damaging its architectural structured lines
of ink rust, brittle red and revealing my construction, one intricate syllable at a time.
I would need to swim the deepest skies without altering a single blue cloud, and jump over the rainbows you have so precisely placed like steeplechases for me to stride over.
You bring me to such plateaus of terra cotta realization, when the sun and sky meet in one beautiful eye, when the merging of all things
crowns every beautiful hour.
You beckon this voice from its nether channels,
producing its dew of papaya fruit, and pretty black seeds, that slip from your hand like ink.
You ask me to write you, like a lotus still blooming white flower, and when the petals sing, and the dolphins sigh melodious. It is here, oh yes it is here, where the horizon sheds the day, and upon the smile is only laughter. Here where when it unwinds all that is left is the strings of silk, the strands of honey, the most succulent nectar. Here that their is only you.
Pt 1
What have I done to deserve so beautiful a posture,
so gracefully your words spoon my mind like a swan,
how fragile the moons glance I see flickering,
outward I sense my heart fluttering, pining all that is you,
groping in this shadowy space to hold your eyes fast,
i feel needles poking my skin, asking things I want,
you the flower of morning who summons such thoughts,
these lines a testament to my willingness to open,
I feel you my muse, every peach drop of juice you spill,
your words like sunlight warming this spirit
serenely: but with a zest, I walk water for you,
gliding without moving I glisten with your dew,
I am melting like the hours looking for you,
I palm the consonants as if your body, stroking each one
as if it is the sweetest myrrh, drinking more than my cup full,
you the blossoming light who extracts such blue wonder,
angels feign in your glowing circumstance, the way
you exalt such lofty ideals of what true love is,
pinpricks resound these lines, echoing the ground to shake,
egging mountains to move themselves, you erode all my defenses,
I am chalk white hollow bliss, surrendering the wind and sea,
I edge further crawling over broken glass and feeling no pain,
to you I would endure every hardship, any compromise,
tickling keys talk, chattering joyful sounds, swimming
rivers with hands who will not rest, I am getting closer,
I touch your apple skin, tasting the core with a foraging hunger,
to sweet cool beading lust that builds feverishly,
I denounce any worldly happiness, discarding any meaningless fancy,
for this abounds with truth, it asks nothing, demands nothing but
to be heard, to be read as if it lives, and it does live,
it grows like the fire you ignite, like the salt of my skin
you have tasted, I am nearing, hedging closer still.
Pt 2
My eyes are wide shut, holding you locked with their amber gaze
here upon a mantle a gargoyle silently watching,
sitting pondering your beautiful lips that speak such perfume,
stones calm within this place,
you are the only sound I hear,
yours the only voice that feels like the softest warm drizzle,
here I am my most precious princess, waiting
time could stop or flee and here I will remain,
a guardian floating above the city clouds,
I am here with my chivalrous heart, waiting
I feel your footsteps from a thousand miles away
tenderly hovering above my brow, subtle dew,
you are a meadow harbour, a sunlit beam of radiant bliss,
you are euphoria, dreams are not made of such things,
I am here and here I shall be, gracing the hours with mindful play,
splashing in a puddle of love, O to caress your arches and sing,
to converge upon your slender limbs of elegance and delay the minutes,
your flesh tangerine glow that sends shock waves down my core,
I am here my angel, watching over the pendulum swings of moonlight,
transfixed by your ambient tones, your mellow avenues,
here I am, holding you like a diamond, your translucent prisms sparkling,
I see you, I am in you, I taste your almond butter sonnets.
Pt 3
If you are to be written , then it will be by my words, it will be my pen outlining your sugary surfaces, my ink that will spell out your succulent geography, my syllables that will sound out your curvaceous outline, my consonants that will sound out your perfect angles, my verbs that will describe your exquisite shape, your beautiful periphery, your angular disposition that makes my eyes twinkle.
If you are to be written it shall be I who traces the lines of your opaque peach, I who climbs the summit of your fragile and tender eyes, the way they flicker with mystery in the shadows, it will be I who
swims your valleys oceans, drowning deep in your sweet waters.
If you are to be written, I will leave nothing to chance, I will detail every nuance, search every nook of your perfection and shed its fleshy pink beauty.
I am the author of your book, I will glean the pages with sunshine, I who sees beyond what can be seen and invests my heart in every sentence, who makes all the verses sing your virtue, you are the eloquent moon that lights up my night sky.
I am the author, the one who when all is said and done, reads every line as if it was the most precious
ever written.
Pt 4
I cannot possibly contain the stars this evening,
I cannot hold back the ocean of emotion that floods my
solitary banks. I am breached,
I tried with everything I had to sequester the wind,
but alas I fell short, and you blew a little further away,
I thought about distance and how it crowds my minds eyes,
how if I allow it, I drown in a rainfall of loneliness,
but I stopped took a deep breath, gathered hold of the reins and found sunshine, I found you
I found rainbows and tranquility dreams, I saw the sky smiling
your smile,
I descended within myself to the middle, to where everything stirs,
the place where upon my pillow heart you rest, here among the softest meadows you reside, undisturbed by miles or time, here like a morning dove
you sing to my heart so lyrically I have to stop and again catch my thoughts breath,
I feel your whispering hands upon my naked dreams, nestled upon my waist
with wild staring eyes, I lose myself in such vistas, I would sooner sleep there than be anywhere else, holding your graceful face and shielding anything away but my mouth,
I flutter amid your trembling limbs of surrender, your ruby red lips parting like the most still sea, gently I feel the surging tides of two bodies emerging, becoming the soil,
I see this place where stones sit idle, eroding to the panting breath of two who have merged into one hope, into one blissful life, entwined like the most precious yarn,
I am subdued by these thoughts, spilling like a fountain that rejuvenates my spirit with every new encounter, O such joy has never walked these paths, surely this is Heaven.
Pt 5
I listen to the sound of bluebells shimmering in the early dusk,
the way she sighs just so, crocuses and things of feather weight,
light fluffy spooned dreams, the song of a loon drifting across a
quiet blue lake.
Such places untouched by human hands, unspoiled and pristine,
the vaulted ceilings of my mind at play.
Then there is you like a lighthouse beacon in a shrouded mist,
calling me, come here, come here,
all the ocean stops rolling, the wind listens to the sirens call,
and I settle like a soft silted quilt.
You are the harbour where I seek refuge, my rejuvenating waters,
my steady rock, you make the world still.
I feel my breath in your heartbeats, in your tender sighs, in your
carefully crafted lines of liquid pumice.
I am a sponge soaking all that you let go, immersing my flesh in your supple bosom skin, I cling to your channels like a lost vessel found.
O tempest storm that brought me to your fragrant shores, I thank you,
for now this shipwrecked heart has found its sandy dunes, its coves of coral
pink eyes.
I kneel and abandon the sea, for it is your land I long to comb, your sea shell island that i want to retire to, I shiver with prayers and hands cupped in gratitude, for I am not wayward but nearer the stars than I have ever been before.
I hear your words mouth petals falling like the dew that encroaches upon the leaves, I hear because I want to listen to no other sound.
Pt 6
Like two holy temples, sacred, tenements to the faith we have both
sacrificed so much for, two red blood hearts swaying in unison,
a single wave upon an ocean sky of powder perfect blue,
together, hands held with delicate grace, sheltered, loving
and finding ways to caress anew.
This dreamland of blushing clouds, a sky that whispers sweet french kisses, the air full of tongues and fingers probing eternity,
seeking pleasure through linen lines of silk,
this haven from all that disrupts, this home of utter tranquility,
this is where you have brought me my dear.
High above the rocky turbulent world, soaring with falcons,
carefree and laughing, this language of a love that is above earthly love,
angel love, flying on wings made by Cupid himself, floating
here among the turrets of emerald towers.
I am walking on puffy white clouds, barefooted and sensing only you,
I eat your chalice of golden worship, adorned by thoughts of truth and
sincerity, nothing can sway me, no winds can take you away, you are boundless, free and walking within me.
Days meld into minutes, into hours the seconds I photograph with subtle
words, into sentences professing my enamoured heart, you are a black pearl, an elegant albatross, you rise before every dawn and set with all
my hopes, you are my pillow down, my softest hello.
Like two holy temples, eroding time with outstretched columns reaching for one another, lifting each other up with mouths that can never be satiated, with fingers that when locked cannot be torn asunder, you drift
towards me never away, edging deeper and deeper into my flesh.
This is the world you have created, your genesis, your beginning that has no end, for these words will live forever, this ethereal wonderland of longing to be closer than close, and no matter how far it is always near, for I carry you like my breath always within, my lungs announce you, my lips speak only of you, forever.
Pt 7
So many needs, I waltz on pins, my craving fingers and eyes
your tangerine flesh that sears my lust with throbbing desire,
I am lost in a wilderness of delicious naughty thoughts,
blindfolds and ropes made of flesh, my flesh,
to wrap you in my abdomen, and feel the sky shriek at the sight of your naked ankles pinned against my walls,
oh what wicked nights satin sinks my shoulders, heavy breathing and wanting sighs,
to taste your strawberry valley, slowly, with an eager zest for more,
for all, to be consumed by passionate heat that cannot be measured in farenheit,
I want you, to swallow your orbs of radiant alabaster, gnawing with a
loving playfulness, to spur you on, towards my writhing form,
to impale your legs downward and see the moon thrusting beside me,
this night you are mine, and I am yours wholly,
nothing but hot sweat running in beads, and friction
Pt 8
Snowflakes feel this breath, and as you melt so do I,
these words like plush velvet that can lull the moon to sleep, words
that when spoken silence any windy doubters. Can you feel them echo down this most unusual forever? Do you sense it, can you feel
how these words trickling like ivy, seep into all the crevices, leaving nothing unturned, I have felt your leaves falling, I have climbed your
vines of disbelief. Put such thoughts to rest now petal.
Tonight you are a fair maiden, not in need of rescue but solace,
this evening you are a fairytale princess, a one slipper-ed Cinderella,
tonight is made up of quests and rescues. But most of all tonight
is devoted to love, requited love, love that gives itself with total reckless abandon.
Tonight the stars blush like diamonds, and while they twinkle,
the air perspires, the wind takes a long deserved rest, while two figures
make the night wish it was never going to end.
Yes my beloved this is about such things, about chocolate raspberry lips
tracing one another hungrily, about tongues of sugar trying to find new ways to get in, about candy floss legs that give up their secrets and wish that the night would linger, on and on until tomorrow breaks.
This is about such things my beloved, how when i cradle your manger, you rock to the hips grinding music, holding back the sensual songs you have longed to sing, this is a night of hands that hold destiny in a kiss of teeth, about kneading bodies that long to become mesh.
This is a night of dreams.
Pt 9
How solemnly bliss are these moments of flickering light,
how serene these nocturnal breaths like tides sweeping the sky,
sweeping in unpronounced and yet with such clarity of vision,
this is
a sky undone by your gaze, by your uncomplicated ways,
like a dove you hover in my light, speaking soft delights,
ushering in each new day, like a feather air bound and wistful.
How beauty shows its peach in each refined word you polish,
the way your lips wrap themselves around each letter and utter
them tenderly, naturally, the way they were meant to be spoken.
How can I follow such magnificent lines, flowing like a spring brook
shedding its winter retreat, cascading like blue waterfall, elegantly
falling from your tender pomegranate mouth into my reservoir.
I am fondling the dew here among a field of stars, sauntering like
a bumblebee, happy and gay, not a care in this world or any other,
your words take me away, whisked like a magic carpet to some
magical plateau high above any clouds known to man.
I hope that my words don't fall short, that I don't fumble or
falter, for you deserve perfect crafted honeydew syllables,
you deserve to be swept into the heavens on a chariot made of gold
kisses with arms that embrace you so tenderly that it makes a mother
weep with contented joy.
Forgive me if you hear my heart patter, I am feeling overwhelmed,
you have intoxicated my world with wine and song, made every hour
seem like it could not be outmatched, stretched the ocean with
strands of pure silk, made the nights taste like satin, and all I
can do is dream about your aquamarine distance, how miles apart
you inhabit every minute like time.
I would not trade my place with Mickey Mouse in Disneyland.
Pt 10
The Letter
How can I translate upon this page love's virtue, how is it possible to give a voice to
my heart that you have so fully inebriated with laurel, how when the wind whispers it is your song it warms and plants upon my lips.
My darling, the days minutes trace your outline, every centimeter of your silhouette framed like a masterpiece, the seconds like paint keenly brush stroked upon the canvas you have so gracefully decreed to my possession.
If I am to be its caretaker then I accept the honour willingly.
I feel the passion swell within me, engorging every facet of my being, my mind races in circles shaped like heartbeats, fluttering your sweet name.
My love time stands still and holds your hand, it writes each letter of your name with the most beautiful calligraphy ever handcrafted.
You are more perfect than a rose, every petal equally proportioned and imbued with divinty.
I take steps back in awe of your cherry blossom cheeks, your iridescent eyes that make me forget the minute that just swept by, and yet even there you linger.
My sweetheart our flesh is interwoven, together the tapestry sheds its silk in passionate lines, every letter belonging to this union that beams with sunshine.
You are the blue sky swimming, the leaves of autumn that bleed crimson
kisses, the winter white of every snow angel made with love.
You are love my dear, so please do not ask me to translate love's virtue,
let me just nestle upon your brow like a butterfly and soak in your radiance, let me sleep under your bedroom eyes aquamarine and dream of
nothing else.
Pt 11
Eternity is not long enough for me, my beloved picnic,
I am immersed in your pink folds, entwined in the blue buffet of you,
time ticks in the dew hours covered by our embrace,
meadow dreams and soft trickling waters, the sound of delicate wind
blowing gently against my ears, I am wrapped in the blue balloon sky,
floating somewhere above your gaze, silently admiring all that is you,
you are everything, how delectable a peach, how sweet the pulp I savour,
No eternity is not long enough for me, my thirst for you will linger
past such pebbles that time may throw our way,
my flesh craves your limbs embrace, I cling to your juicy feel,
your tangerine glow that lights my eyes with fiery passion that will not give way,
eternity is not long enough my beloved.
Pt 12
How does one touch a lily, gently of course, but how do you
handle such grace, such beauty. I hold you within these hands, delicate flower, within you I see my eyes returning to me. Such beauty to behold sways my thoughts to tall soft grasses dancing in the sunlight, innocence at play, meandering the hours and not counting. I feel the flesh on flesh play, gathering in my heart, all the world stops and all i hear is your breath. Your breathing lips summoning me, be mine, be mine.
Surely this is bliss, I feel my skin ripple seconds, minutes hours, I lose track nothing else matters, it all pales in comparison to you.
Tongues tasting plums, darting between in and out like a tango, I feel you
close in, surrounding all that is, was and will ever be. You are the hands of time, perspiring. I taste your salt, so sweet and alluring, you entrance all that I am. How do you hold a lily, just like this I hear my heart say, just like this.
Pt 13
As you awaken ,
before the day has had the chance to settle,
before the dew has fully been erased,
and the sun has not stretched fully,
May the dreams fall off you slowly,
gently rolling like feathers,
may soft rain mists touch you with my fingered words,
caressing you tenderly.
May this day be filled with the sound of my heartbeat,
like a friendly wind, embracing you,
cradling you with loving arms.
May this day shelter you in my warmth,
may it encircle you with my kisses,
so that all you see is my eyes, holding you,
this day is made of love, may it tickle you
in all the places my smile does,
may you know no worry, or feel no pain,
for we are more than two, we are one breathing wish,
one breathing whisper, we are this day.
Pt 14
When it rains purple you are the umbrella,
when the sky shades itself in gray you find the way to see it blue,
when the day feels more like night, you bring in the lightness,
when time tries to run away your hands make it walk,
whenever I am nomadic you become my oasis, my island retreat.
To you my safe haven tempest, the one who makes me shudder,
when my heart glows bright, when the smiles are inside.
Just for you,
I pen my devotion, I pledge my ink, I trace your paper eyes
with flowing tributes of kisses and when the dust settles
and sleep casts its neon, you are my anchor.
To you I surrender my soul, to you I bequeath my dream stars.
I give you every thought rendered, every syllable breathed,
every lines white cloud. I keep my eyes so I can see only you.
Pt 15
I felt the night feign and look away upon discovering your soulful words,
I heard the moon shudder, and trembling the sky dipped out of sight,
I saw the blue ocean drown itself in black water. Such things cannot
be permitted to happen my precious conch.
How can someone hold a rose and colour it anything but beautiful?
How can love be torn asunder so, it is shame that fills my heart.
Nobody should be able to take that away from one so precious.
From this moment on, not a minute will wane without my embracing
love, not an hour will pass without my tender hands holding your heart.
The time has come for the roots to take hold, today dawns a new day,
one where the power of true passionate love brings in the light and
ushers out the darkness, no more shadowy underworld.
Today my precious pebble you can blossom, cast out those
stones, for your heart will no longer be allowed to erode.
This is a brand new day, from this day forward , love speaks
not in whispers but it shouts with joy, it laughs with lips of glee.
Throw away all that was and today look in that mirror and know
that you are more than cherished my dear, you are worshiped.
The Muse Conversations Pt 16
Good Morning my darling,
Before I rise you are my sleepy dreams twinkling
My eyes breathe your peach flesh
I taste your thoughts and wishes sweet
Everywhere you mirror my heart
The autumn wind sings your name
Heaven wears your red beating garment
You are my ocean day, my sky night twinkling
I follow your moon, I crave your sun
I whisper your waves, you ripple me.
Pt 17
For you I will ascend the mountain republics
climb the scales of any height, I will forage in the rain soaked dirt,
I will swim any water-falling ocean, I will move any stone blockade,
open any door of thorns, nothing can deter this spirit now.
You have cleared all the bramble, diluted all the brine,
exhausted all my excuses, for to you I am an open book,
all my pages sheer and revealed, I cannot hide for the sky
would surely embrace your call.
I feel the weight of your presence surrounding me, your
eyelash substances, your fingernail manicured lips pouting
just so, how in a flicker I come undone, my heart racing like a
galloping mollusk towards your shores.
I am silk to your touch, my cheeks like reddened grapes,
my hands meeting this earth that is you.
How immaculate the sensations you arouse, how utterly
transparent my guise of feigning your kiss, how foolish a
man can be, I lose sight of my face in your face, I am
glass and you are crystal, shimmering diamonds and still.
I have tasted the roses blood in you, felt their petals tremble,
seen my heart flicker in the shadow of your lips of gossamer,
I am drowning in a sea of love, in a bliss so deep I can't tell
where the sky ends and the water begins.
But please don't save me.
Pt 18
Like a marble block you have chiseled away the excess,
your noble hands extracting my sculpture, slowly
and with such attention to detail, refining,
bringing to blossom my once granite features.
I stood watching your delicate trillium fingers,
delving deeper into my skin, molding and
furrowing to the roots, such delicacy the way
you accentuated these features, carving my flesh
like earth.
I could not help but ponder why? Why you would invest
so much time and effort into this lifeless figure?
And yet beneath this cold stone exterior, I felt my
heart stir like violin strings, the adagio you were
composing with each beautiful chip.
My armour has been exposed, you the butterfly who
gave me wings, wings to fly further than the sky,
to soar where air breathes life.
To where can I send my gratitude if not to the stars
that twinkle within your eyes, where do I announce my
thankfulness for your dexterity, your graceful touch
that sheds all my pasts, you gave me the light, you
ushered away all the darkness.
You are my temple, you are a pillar of soft white kisses, I am pierced eternally by your jasmine presence that builds and lifts me up like a column
of scented dew.
I am enamoured by you my architect, my darling
luminous cloud of silver linings, to you there is no end but only beginnings.
Pt 19
We are both castaways, adrift on an ocean of words, surrounded by a sky of fresh blue sentences,
a world where nothing else matters but the sounds of our joyous lines.
My angel breath, my apricot veil of tranquility, you subdue any gray wind and colour it sunshine, you imbue my heart with sugar embraced kisses.
I live on your island of rose petals, the fragrant mornings of bliss overcome all of my senses, filling my pen with thoughts of only you.
You are my dawn, my sunset and everything that runs between like the water that crashes against our shores,
you fill the sky with the sound of love.
Meadow pier standing still upon these footsteps, like a wave,
I cannot gallop, nor march, for sublime is how the clock ticks,
the wind ushers in its own agendas, like dignity and grace,
balance seems very much the order of the day, and yet, still
You stray outside the boundaries, hovering like an apparition of scarlet,
waiting like the night air, loitering like the sheets of any question or demand.
You hang like a perfect ornamental necklace around my throat, shimmering emerald, and my eyes were green with envy, how You and I reside there,
holding your lips in the angles of the kiss, looking out windows blue,
I remember olive groves and all the places there was only two, fields yellow
flowing like a river running out all over piers and meadows and just two.
Pt 20
I sit here upon a sky of ten thousand words
standing like a stone with blue wondering eyes
and like diamonds everything shimmers white
and levels like a plateau veranda yellow
and somewhere between the letter ankle and neck
you emerge like a rainbow arch without suggesting
I hammock here I sit upon a sky of ten thousand words
asking, answering, gathering at my knees vows
On the page that
stares at you empty,
it dares you to become you,
to create alabaster horizons,
to draw fine china skin soft,
to invent places and colours,
to see what is not there
and put it just so,
it involves no preconceptions,
no pretense
it just asks of you to
listen to your breath,
to grasp hold of the
passion that stirs and write,
bleed ink as if it was air.
Pt 21
Magnolia dove
mulberry moon
chamomile silhouette
of a rainbow
lemon
Because of you I levitate beyond the blue sky
my red balloon breaths of silk soft to your touch.
Because of you I walk water clouds of pollen
and do not question the wind beneath my feet.
Because of you rainbow rains embrace my skin
in drops of sweet myrrh , you the beads forming.
Because of you the skies smile azure and sigh
the weight of life falling away like yesterday.
Because of you night cradles my pillow sleep
and dreams not in a hurry but slowly gently.
Because of you tomorrow shines radiant cheeks
suggesting joy and laughter in the same word.
Because of you day becomes a companion true
and distance is a mere formality of twinkling stars.
Because of you Heaven is closer than the ground
and angels speak your name in silent whispering bliss.
You are the sun that bled for me
downward you beat like an angel
drop.
You the wind that caressed my skin
colouring my days like the sand
spelling my name.
You are the water living blue that
swam with me across oceans vast.
You my thought rainfall nights
that spoke to the moon with
nocturnal whispers.
You are my blessing.
Pt 22
I who looks at white and sees wonder
Me who wanders the sky’s hope
Myself whom knows the night
All of me who forgets to question
Oh magnanimous spring
Oh scarlet lighthouse of summer
Oh veiled crystalline autumn
Oh ventriloquist dew of winter
You are the alabaster moon
the ripened sun of grapes
I could fill every page
with landscapes
and the litany of ideas
and beauty.
So what am I left with beside exquisite,
besides eloquent lengths of pearl ankles
and scarlet blushes that touch Heaven,
So,
Whatever you do, leave the sky where it is
let the air fall to the sea tourmaline
and when the quiet ascends hush white
whispers and when the dawn descends its
glacial curtain don’t bother to change
it couldn’t be more perfect.
Pt 25
I can stitch together paper boulders out of cotton
whistles and still the wind utters your scent, blue
fills the water ink dress of your brow, I stall sit
wanting, waiting like a turquoise whisper, silent,
how you extract my air with eyes of emerald wonder
the days that taste like you, chins and ankles sheer,
I can weave a thread silk stocking legs your limbs
architectural heights blossoming church where I worship,
kneeling under your nape curved silhouette,
The Poet
I made the rain soft fleshy peach, do you feel the pink beads of sweat?
Can you sense how I immerse your skin in my waters, how we drown in
the same tide pools.
I made the grey delicious, mysterious full of long probing fingers,
I gave it sight and hands to touch you with, inside and out.
I feel the rain my love, I feel it trickle down your mantle of curves,
running down slender folding channels, I feel it as if it is my breath.
I am the waterfall that splashes your bosom, I am the wet sky you run to for
shelter.
We are osmosis, merging to emerge and merge again like the dew.
Let me swim in your waters, night or day, black or white.
Let me be swallowed up whole, I do not want to resurface.
i feel myself reaching for the ground, to make sure its still there
the sound conch and enveloping the stars
your eyes crystal and eroding my shells
i feel your architecture gathering around my knees and I am
falling like tiny pebbles from a cradle
The Poet
I have this desire, for all that is you
whether it be by tongue, your sweet taste,
whether it be by mind, your sexy way of thinking,
whether it be by hands, that cannot control the need to touch you,
whether it be by fingers, who want to unlock all your secret places,
i have a craving hunger to drink you up
to immerse my flesh in your flesh
to lose my way in your plush words
to embrace your lips with mine, this night and every night
forever
The Poet
I love you no matter the hurt, or pain
I place no decrees upon you, I pledge only love,
unconditional and eternal.
I love you because you are who you are,
through the bruises and bumps,
I will undress you because to me naked is what you are,
carnal, true, unflinching, and yet still supple.
I love you more each moment, I feel your indecisiveness,
I realize you feel vulnerable as do I,But I love you regardless of doubts, I place no conditions upon this love.
I love you for what you are, not are becoming
The Poet
I am here and always will be
your safe haven, your biggest pillow,
your softest sky, here I am
with a heart that bleeds yours
The Poet
I ache for you in places long since gone cold
I thirst for your breath
I hunger for your soft skin brushing beside mine
I long for your strawberry kisses, your searching lips
I crave your thoughts, your exacting words, your insatiable curiosity
I am in love with all of this and more baby
Pt 26
I accept with an open heart your softly whispered caresses,
I offer my undying love and respect in return for your most graciously
gestured gift.
I love the way you say love, full of conviction.
I woke this morning like normal to the breathing of a dove, such
simple and understated words that hold me abreast.
I adore you my radiant butterfly, your wings glisten with me.
I will soar with you to untold summits,
I will investigate any depths, with you by my side.
I love you now, as I did yesterday, as I will tomorrow.
You are my pillow cradle, in your glow I submit my sleep.
I love you my darling angel.
Pt 27
Still closer, like an advent of hearts
opening like the sun upon this new day,
reaching for the wind with fingers yearning to feel.
I cling to your alabaster shoulders of peach,
you my steadfast fruit of desire, who prolongs my destiny.
Still closer to your nearness of hearth that wades in my eyes,
your slender limbs like legs of tall grass,
that saunter into my life like the days without hours.
Still closer, still closer to that infinite grace,
your gazelle like exterior that that extracts this tourmaline,
polishing and refining these words, as if they are predestined.
I adhere to you my new moon sun, my fallen angel, my glorious
blue sky, I am the tresses under your wings, holding you aloft.
Still closer, this granite interior eroding like sand, tiny glass
pebbles, smoothed by your eloquent ways that calm my storms.
This is an advent, I am getting closer, I can hear your heart beating,
I can sense you in me, I call for your touch, to be held by your flight,
I am nearing my love.
Pt 28
A Clearing
Their you go again, opulent and fabric silk lips
speaking about interwoven tapestries and chalk
board silhouettes of the finest silver and gold
leaf mouths that wrap themselves around and pout
like sunshine tinsel paper.
I look up to sky blue and not asking anything of me
or the window pane wind that whispers about curtains
shimmering like silver dollar charms, and all I can
remember, is the way the moon shone stars in your eyes.
I follow where I have never tread, and in that place where,
only you could take me, the dawn pokes me onward,
and the light gathers in the West valley
sunset, I see swan white kisses shaped like hearts,
and the sound of your smile.
Their you go again , spinning yarn gold trinkets
for me to trip over, in the mirrors vertical stare,
take me there.
Pt 29
I will have to circumnavigate the summit of Mt Vesuvius,
raise it from its ashes and tilt it on its axis, so that
water can speaks its liquid.
I would have to topple the Eiffel Tower steel, without damaging its architectural structured lines
of ink rust, brittle red and revealing my construction, one intricate syllable at a time.
I would need to swim the deepest skies without altering a single blue cloud, and jump over the rainbows you have so precisely placed like steeplechases for me to stride over.
You bring me to such plateaus of terra cotta realization, when the sun and sky meet in one beautiful eye, when the merging of all things
crowns every beautiful hour.
You beckon this voice from its nether channels,
producing its dew of papaya fruit, and pretty black seeds, that slip from your hand like ink.
You ask me to write you, like a lotus still blooming white flower, and when the petals sing, and the dolphins sigh melodious. It is here, oh yes it is here, where the horizon sheds the day, and upon the smile is only laughter. Here where when it unwinds all that is left is the strings of silk, the strands of honey, the most succulent nectar. Here that their is only you.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
The Muse Conversations Pts 26, 27, 28 and 29
Pt 26
I accept with an open heart your softly whispered caresses,
I offer my undying love and respect in return for your most graciously
gestured gift.
I love the way you say love, full of conviction.
I woke this morning like normal to the breathing of a dove, such
simple and understated words that hold me abreast.
I adore you my radiant butterfly, your wings glisten with me.
I will soar with you to untold summits,
I will investigate any depths, with you by my side.
I love you now, as I did yesterday, as I will tomorrow.
You are my pillow cradle, in your glow I submit my sleep.
I love you my darling angel.
Pt 27
Still closer, like an advent of hearts
opening like the sun upon this new day,
reaching for the wind with fingers yearning to feel.
I cling to your alabaster shoulders of peach,
you my steadfast fruit of desire, who prolongs my destiny.
Still closer to your nearness of hearth that wades in my eyes,
your slender limbs like legs of tall grass,
that saunter into my life like the days without hours.
Still closer, still closer to that infinite grace,
your gazelle like exterior that that extracts this tourmaline,
polishing and refining these words, as if they are predestined.
I adhere to you my new moon sun, my fallen angel, my glorious
blue sky, I am the tresses under your wings, holding you aloft.
Still closer, this granite interior eroding like sand, tiny glass
pebbles, smoothed by your eloquent ways that calm my storms.
This is an advent, I am getting closer, I can hear your heart beating,
I can sense you in me, I call for your touch, to be held by your flight,
I am nearing my love.
Pt 28
A Clearing
Their you go again, opulent and fabric silk lips
speaking about interwoven tapestries and chalk
board silhouettes of the finest silver and gold
leaf mouths that wrap themselves around and pout
like sunshine tinsel paper.
I look up to sky blue and not asking anything of me
or the window pane wind that whispers about curtains
shimmering like silver dollar charms, and all I can
remember, is the way the moon shone stars in your eyes.
I follow where I have never tread, and in that place where,
only you could take me, the dawn pokes me onward,
and the light gathers in the West valley
sunset, I see swan white kisses shaped like hearts,
and the sound of your smile.
Their you go again , spinning yarn gold trinkets
for me to trip over, in the mirrors vertical stare,
take me there.
Pt 29
I will have to circumnavigate the summit of Mt Vesuvius,
raise it from its ashes and tilt it on its axis, so that
water can speaks its liquid.
I would have to topple the Eiffel Tower steel, without damaging its architectural structured lines
of ink rust, brittle red and revealing my construction, one intricate syllable at a time.
I would need to swim the deepest skies without altering a single blue cloud, and jump over the rainbows you have so precisely placed like steeplechases for me to stride over.
You bring me to such plateaus of terra cotta realization, when the sun and sky meet in one beautiful eye, when the merging of all things
crowns every beautiful hour.
You beckon this voice from its nether channels,
producing its dew of papaya fruit, and pretty black seeds, that slip from your hand like ink.
You ask me to write you, like a lotus still blooming white flower, and when the petals sing, and the dolphins sigh melodious. It is here, oh yes it is here, where the horizon sheds the day, and upon the smile is only laughter. Here where when it unwinds all that is left is the strings of silk, the strands of honey, the most succulent nectar. Here that their is only you.
I accept with an open heart your softly whispered caresses,
I offer my undying love and respect in return for your most graciously
gestured gift.
I love the way you say love, full of conviction.
I woke this morning like normal to the breathing of a dove, such
simple and understated words that hold me abreast.
I adore you my radiant butterfly, your wings glisten with me.
I will soar with you to untold summits,
I will investigate any depths, with you by my side.
I love you now, as I did yesterday, as I will tomorrow.
You are my pillow cradle, in your glow I submit my sleep.
I love you my darling angel.
Pt 27
Still closer, like an advent of hearts
opening like the sun upon this new day,
reaching for the wind with fingers yearning to feel.
I cling to your alabaster shoulders of peach,
you my steadfast fruit of desire, who prolongs my destiny.
Still closer to your nearness of hearth that wades in my eyes,
your slender limbs like legs of tall grass,
that saunter into my life like the days without hours.
Still closer, still closer to that infinite grace,
your gazelle like exterior that that extracts this tourmaline,
polishing and refining these words, as if they are predestined.
I adhere to you my new moon sun, my fallen angel, my glorious
blue sky, I am the tresses under your wings, holding you aloft.
Still closer, this granite interior eroding like sand, tiny glass
pebbles, smoothed by your eloquent ways that calm my storms.
This is an advent, I am getting closer, I can hear your heart beating,
I can sense you in me, I call for your touch, to be held by your flight,
I am nearing my love.
Pt 28
A Clearing
Their you go again, opulent and fabric silk lips
speaking about interwoven tapestries and chalk
board silhouettes of the finest silver and gold
leaf mouths that wrap themselves around and pout
like sunshine tinsel paper.
I look up to sky blue and not asking anything of me
or the window pane wind that whispers about curtains
shimmering like silver dollar charms, and all I can
remember, is the way the moon shone stars in your eyes.
I follow where I have never tread, and in that place where,
only you could take me, the dawn pokes me onward,
and the light gathers in the West valley
sunset, I see swan white kisses shaped like hearts,
and the sound of your smile.
Their you go again , spinning yarn gold trinkets
for me to trip over, in the mirrors vertical stare,
take me there.
Pt 29
I will have to circumnavigate the summit of Mt Vesuvius,
raise it from its ashes and tilt it on its axis, so that
water can speaks its liquid.
I would have to topple the Eiffel Tower steel, without damaging its architectural structured lines
of ink rust, brittle red and revealing my construction, one intricate syllable at a time.
I would need to swim the deepest skies without altering a single blue cloud, and jump over the rainbows you have so precisely placed like steeplechases for me to stride over.
You bring me to such plateaus of terra cotta realization, when the sun and sky meet in one beautiful eye, when the merging of all things
crowns every beautiful hour.
You beckon this voice from its nether channels,
producing its dew of papaya fruit, and pretty black seeds, that slip from your hand like ink.
You ask me to write you, like a lotus still blooming white flower, and when the petals sing, and the dolphins sigh melodious. It is here, oh yes it is here, where the horizon sheds the day, and upon the smile is only laughter. Here where when it unwinds all that is left is the strings of silk, the strands of honey, the most succulent nectar. Here that their is only you.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Autumn Winds, Bring Confessions
For you I will ascend the mountain republics
climb the scales of any height, I will forage in the rain soaked dirt,
I will swim any water-falling ocean, I will move any stone blockade,
open any door of thorns, nothing can deter this spirit now.
You have cleared all the bramble, diluted all the brine,
exhausted all my excuses, for to you I am an open book,
all my pages sheer and revealed, I cannot hide for the sky
would surely embrace your call.
I feel the weight of your presence surrounding me, your
eyelash substances, your fingernail manicured lips pouting
just so, how in a flicker I come undone, my heart racing like a
galloping mollusk towards your shores.
I am silk to your touch, my cheeks like reddened grapes,
my hands meeting this earth that is you.
How immaculate the sensations you arouse, how utterly
transparent my guise of feigning your kiss, how foolish a
man can be, I lose sight of my face in your face, I am
glass and you are crystal, shimmering diamonds and still.
I have tasted the roses blood in you, felt their petals tremble,
seen my heart flicker in the shadow of your lips of gossamer,
I am drowning in a sea of love, in a bliss so deep I can't tell
where the sky ends and the water begins.
But please don't save me.
How solemnly bliss are these moments of flickering light,
how serene these nocturnal breaths like tides sweeping the sky,
sweeping in unpronounced and yet with such clarity of vision,
this is
a sky undone by your gaze, by your uncomplicated ways,
like a dove you hover in my light, speaking soft delights,
ushering in each new day, like a feather air bound and wistful.
How beauty shows its peach in each refined word you polish,
the way your lips wrap themselves around each letter and utter
them tenderly, naturally, the way they were meant to be spoken.
How can I follow such magnificent lines, flowing like a spring brook
shedding its winter retreat, cascading like blue waterfall, elegantly
falling from your tender pomegranate mouth into my reservoir.
I am fondling the dew here among a field of stars, sauntering like
a bumblebee, happy and gay, not a care in this world or any other,
your words take me away, whisked like a magic carpet to some
magical plateau high above any clouds known to man.
I hope that my words don't fall short, that I don't fumble or
falter, for you deserve perfect crafted honeydew syllables,
you deserve to be swept into the heavens on a chariot made of gold
kisses with arms that embrace you so tenderly that it makes a mother
weep with contented joy.
Forgive me if you hear my heart patter, I am feeling overwhelmed,
you have intoxicated my world with wine and song, made every hour
seem like it could not be outmatched, stretched the ocean with
strands of pure silk, made the nights taste like satin, and all I
can do is dream about your aquamarine distance, how miles apart
you inhabit every minute like time.
Like a marble block you have chiseled away the excess,
your noble hands extracting my sculpture, slowly
and with such attention to detail, refining,
bringing to blossom my once granite features.
I stood watching your delicate trillium fingers,
delving deeper into my skin, molding and
furrowing to the roots, such delicacy the way
you accentuated these features, carving my flesh
like earth.
I could not help but ponder why? Why you would invest
so much time and effort into this lifeless figure?
And yet beneath this cold stone exterior, I felt my
heart stir like violin strings, the adagio you were
composing with each beautiful chip.
My armour has been exposed, you the butterfly who
gave me wings, wings to fly further than the sky,
to soar where air breathes life.
To where can I send my gratitude if not to the stars
that twinkle within your eyes, where do I announce my
thankfulness for your dexterity, your graceful touch
that sheds all my pasts, you gave me the light, you
ushered away all the darkness.
You are my temple, you are a pillar of soft white kisses, I am pierced eternally by your jasmine presence that builds and lifts me up like a column
of scented dew.
I am enamoured by you my architect, my darling
luminous cloud of silver linings, to you there is no end but only beginnings.
climb the scales of any height, I will forage in the rain soaked dirt,
I will swim any water-falling ocean, I will move any stone blockade,
open any door of thorns, nothing can deter this spirit now.
You have cleared all the bramble, diluted all the brine,
exhausted all my excuses, for to you I am an open book,
all my pages sheer and revealed, I cannot hide for the sky
would surely embrace your call.
I feel the weight of your presence surrounding me, your
eyelash substances, your fingernail manicured lips pouting
just so, how in a flicker I come undone, my heart racing like a
galloping mollusk towards your shores.
I am silk to your touch, my cheeks like reddened grapes,
my hands meeting this earth that is you.
How immaculate the sensations you arouse, how utterly
transparent my guise of feigning your kiss, how foolish a
man can be, I lose sight of my face in your face, I am
glass and you are crystal, shimmering diamonds and still.
I have tasted the roses blood in you, felt their petals tremble,
seen my heart flicker in the shadow of your lips of gossamer,
I am drowning in a sea of love, in a bliss so deep I can't tell
where the sky ends and the water begins.
But please don't save me.
How solemnly bliss are these moments of flickering light,
how serene these nocturnal breaths like tides sweeping the sky,
sweeping in unpronounced and yet with such clarity of vision,
this is
a sky undone by your gaze, by your uncomplicated ways,
like a dove you hover in my light, speaking soft delights,
ushering in each new day, like a feather air bound and wistful.
How beauty shows its peach in each refined word you polish,
the way your lips wrap themselves around each letter and utter
them tenderly, naturally, the way they were meant to be spoken.
How can I follow such magnificent lines, flowing like a spring brook
shedding its winter retreat, cascading like blue waterfall, elegantly
falling from your tender pomegranate mouth into my reservoir.
I am fondling the dew here among a field of stars, sauntering like
a bumblebee, happy and gay, not a care in this world or any other,
your words take me away, whisked like a magic carpet to some
magical plateau high above any clouds known to man.
I hope that my words don't fall short, that I don't fumble or
falter, for you deserve perfect crafted honeydew syllables,
you deserve to be swept into the heavens on a chariot made of gold
kisses with arms that embrace you so tenderly that it makes a mother
weep with contented joy.
Forgive me if you hear my heart patter, I am feeling overwhelmed,
you have intoxicated my world with wine and song, made every hour
seem like it could not be outmatched, stretched the ocean with
strands of pure silk, made the nights taste like satin, and all I
can do is dream about your aquamarine distance, how miles apart
you inhabit every minute like time.
Like a marble block you have chiseled away the excess,
your noble hands extracting my sculpture, slowly
and with such attention to detail, refining,
bringing to blossom my once granite features.
I stood watching your delicate trillium fingers,
delving deeper into my skin, molding and
furrowing to the roots, such delicacy the way
you accentuated these features, carving my flesh
like earth.
I could not help but ponder why? Why you would invest
so much time and effort into this lifeless figure?
And yet beneath this cold stone exterior, I felt my
heart stir like violin strings, the adagio you were
composing with each beautiful chip.
My armour has been exposed, you the butterfly who
gave me wings, wings to fly further than the sky,
to soar where air breathes life.
To where can I send my gratitude if not to the stars
that twinkle within your eyes, where do I announce my
thankfulness for your dexterity, your graceful touch
that sheds all my pasts, you gave me the light, you
ushered away all the darkness.
You are my temple, you are a pillar of soft white kisses, I am pierced eternally by your jasmine presence that builds and lifts me up like a column
of scented dew.
I am enamoured by you my architect, my darling
luminous cloud of silver linings, to you there is no end but only beginnings.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Ars Poetica
Between dark and the void, between virgins and garrisons,
with my singular heart and my mournful conceits
for my portion, my forehead despoiled, overtaken by pallors,
a grief-maddened widower bereft of a lifetime;
for every invisible drop that I taste in a stupor, alas,
for each intonation I concentrate, shuddering,
I keep the identical thirst of an absence, the identical chill
of a fever; sounds, coming to be; a devious anguish
as of thieves and chimeras approaching;
so, in the shell of extension, profound and unaltering,
demeaned as a kitchen-drudge, like a bell sounding
hoarsely,
like a tarnishing mirror, or the smell of a house's abandon-
ment
where the guests stagger homeward, blind drunk, in the
night,
and the reek of their clothes rises out of the floor, an absence
of flowers-
could it be differently put, a little less ruefully, possibly?-
All the truth blurted out: wind strikes at my breast like a
blow,
the ineffable body of night, fallen into my bedroom,
the roar of a morning ablaze with some sacrifice,
that begs my prophetical utterance, mournfully;
an impact of objects that call and encounter no answer,
unrest without respite, an anomalous name.
Pablo Neruda translated by Ben Belitt
with my singular heart and my mournful conceits
for my portion, my forehead despoiled, overtaken by pallors,
a grief-maddened widower bereft of a lifetime;
for every invisible drop that I taste in a stupor, alas,
for each intonation I concentrate, shuddering,
I keep the identical thirst of an absence, the identical chill
of a fever; sounds, coming to be; a devious anguish
as of thieves and chimeras approaching;
so, in the shell of extension, profound and unaltering,
demeaned as a kitchen-drudge, like a bell sounding
hoarsely,
like a tarnishing mirror, or the smell of a house's abandon-
ment
where the guests stagger homeward, blind drunk, in the
night,
and the reek of their clothes rises out of the floor, an absence
of flowers-
could it be differently put, a little less ruefully, possibly?-
All the truth blurted out: wind strikes at my breast like a
blow,
the ineffable body of night, fallen into my bedroom,
the roar of a morning ablaze with some sacrifice,
that begs my prophetical utterance, mournfully;
an impact of objects that call and encounter no answer,
unrest without respite, an anomalous name.
Pablo Neruda translated by Ben Belitt
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Untitled
Atoning The Hours
This finds its way through the twilight window
where gumption holds its throat,clearing,
these are not feckless words searching for
a harbour to rest upon like a shipwreck,
this is a migration of stones full of unction,
castaway like an anchor, setting sail skyward.
This finds its way within the erotic pulp of
plums, yielding fragrant glass kisses,
shedding its flesh like pollen in a kneeling gesture,
exposing its collar eucalyptus, and stripping the
night with degrees of atonement.
This is summoned from the horizontal dew,
between blankets and galloping sweat like a
stampede of doves, encircling ecstasy, bridging
heaven and earth with the sound of ruffled sheets,
asking not for answers but a voice.
This is a penance placed before immodesty's garden,
colouring Eden with satin and lace, traversing the
visceral kiss with immortal lips, rendering with
teeth the peach to which the heart succumbs, and
holding aloft this pinnacle of the sweetest honey.
Kevin Harling.
This finds its way through the twilight window
where gumption holds its throat,clearing,
these are not feckless words searching for
a harbour to rest upon like a shipwreck,
this is a migration of stones full of unction,
castaway like an anchor, setting sail skyward.
This finds its way within the erotic pulp of
plums, yielding fragrant glass kisses,
shedding its flesh like pollen in a kneeling gesture,
exposing its collar eucalyptus, and stripping the
night with degrees of atonement.
This is summoned from the horizontal dew,
between blankets and galloping sweat like a
stampede of doves, encircling ecstasy, bridging
heaven and earth with the sound of ruffled sheets,
asking not for answers but a voice.
This is a penance placed before immodesty's garden,
colouring Eden with satin and lace, traversing the
visceral kiss with immortal lips, rendering with
teeth the peach to which the heart succumbs, and
holding aloft this pinnacle of the sweetest honey.
Kevin Harling.
Conversations with Her Part 2
my eyes are wide shut, holding you locked with their amber gaze
here upon a mantle a gargoyle silently watching,
sitting pondering your beautiful lips that speak such perfume,
stones calm within this place,
you are the only sound I hear,
yours the only voice that feels like the softest warm drizzle,
here I am my most precious princess, waiting
time could stop or flee and here I will remain,
a guardian floating above the city clouds,
I am here with my chivalrous heart, waiting
I feel your footsteps from a thousand miles away
tenderly hovering above my brow, subtle dew,
you are a meadow harbour, a sunlit beam of radiant bliss,
you are euphoria, dreams are not made of such things,
I am here and here I shall be, gracing the hours with mindful play,
splashing in a puddle of love, O to caress your arches and sing,
to converge upon your slender limbs of elegance and delay the minutes,
your flesh tangerine glow that sends shock waves down my core,
I am here my angel, watching over the pendulum swings of moonlight,
transfixed by your ambient tones, your mellow avenues,
here I am, holding you like a diamond, your translucent prisms sparkling,
I see you, I am in you, I taste your almond butter sonnets,
Kevin Harling.
here upon a mantle a gargoyle silently watching,
sitting pondering your beautiful lips that speak such perfume,
stones calm within this place,
you are the only sound I hear,
yours the only voice that feels like the softest warm drizzle,
here I am my most precious princess, waiting
time could stop or flee and here I will remain,
a guardian floating above the city clouds,
I am here with my chivalrous heart, waiting
I feel your footsteps from a thousand miles away
tenderly hovering above my brow, subtle dew,
you are a meadow harbour, a sunlit beam of radiant bliss,
you are euphoria, dreams are not made of such things,
I am here and here I shall be, gracing the hours with mindful play,
splashing in a puddle of love, O to caress your arches and sing,
to converge upon your slender limbs of elegance and delay the minutes,
your flesh tangerine glow that sends shock waves down my core,
I am here my angel, watching over the pendulum swings of moonlight,
transfixed by your ambient tones, your mellow avenues,
here I am, holding you like a diamond, your translucent prisms sparkling,
I see you, I am in you, I taste your almond butter sonnets,
Kevin Harling.
Conversations with Her Part 1
what have I done to deserve so beautiful a posture,
so gracefully your words spoon my mind like a swan,
how fragile the moons glance I see flickering,
outward I sense my heart fluttering, pining all that is you,
groping in this shadowy space to hold your eyes fast,
i feel needles poking my skin, asking things I want,
you the flower of morning who succumbs such thoughts,
these lines a testament to my willingness to open,
I feel you Lilyann, every peach drop of juice you spill,
your words like sunlight warming this spirit
serenely: but with a zest, I walk water for you,
gliding without moving I glisten with your dew,
I am melting like the hours looking for you,
I palm the consonants as if your body, stroking each one
as if it is the sweetest myrrh, drinking more than my cup full,
you the blossoming light who extracts such blue wonder,
angels feign in your glowing circumstance, the way
you exalt such lofty ideals of what true love is,
pinpricks resound these lines, echoing the ground to shake,
egging mountains to move themselves, you erode all my defenses,
I am chalk white hollow bliss, surrendering the wind and sea,
I edge further crawling over broken glass and feeling no pain,
to you I would endure every hardship, any compromise,
tickling keys talk, chattering joyful sounds, swimming
rivers with hands who will not rest, I am getting closer,
I touch your apple skin, tasting the core with a foraging hunger,
to sweet cool beading lust that builds feverishly,
I denounce any worldly happiness, discarding any meaningless fancy,
for this abounds with truth, it asks nothing, demands nothing but
to be heard, to be read as if it lives, and it does live,
it grows like the fire you ignite, like the salt of my skin
you have tasted, I am nearing, hedging closer still
Kevin Harling.
so gracefully your words spoon my mind like a swan,
how fragile the moons glance I see flickering,
outward I sense my heart fluttering, pining all that is you,
groping in this shadowy space to hold your eyes fast,
i feel needles poking my skin, asking things I want,
you the flower of morning who succumbs such thoughts,
these lines a testament to my willingness to open,
I feel you Lilyann, every peach drop of juice you spill,
your words like sunlight warming this spirit
serenely: but with a zest, I walk water for you,
gliding without moving I glisten with your dew,
I am melting like the hours looking for you,
I palm the consonants as if your body, stroking each one
as if it is the sweetest myrrh, drinking more than my cup full,
you the blossoming light who extracts such blue wonder,
angels feign in your glowing circumstance, the way
you exalt such lofty ideals of what true love is,
pinpricks resound these lines, echoing the ground to shake,
egging mountains to move themselves, you erode all my defenses,
I am chalk white hollow bliss, surrendering the wind and sea,
I edge further crawling over broken glass and feeling no pain,
to you I would endure every hardship, any compromise,
tickling keys talk, chattering joyful sounds, swimming
rivers with hands who will not rest, I am getting closer,
I touch your apple skin, tasting the core with a foraging hunger,
to sweet cool beading lust that builds feverishly,
I denounce any worldly happiness, discarding any meaningless fancy,
for this abounds with truth, it asks nothing, demands nothing but
to be heard, to be read as if it lives, and it does live,
it grows like the fire you ignite, like the salt of my skin
you have tasted, I am nearing, hedging closer still
Kevin Harling.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
A Poet at Play
Looking Back In Spades
I saw the afternoon crowd my horizon like a pillow case
shutting out the light like a tawdry window,
I felt the air as if it was a razor, jabbing with short
dull jabs into my midriff,
I wondered how come 1 and 1 never gets you 2,
I let the shutters spill like sugar all over my chin
and when the minutes fell like rain, I sat
pondering your useless minutes of pandering,
I stalked the orchards looking for fences to topple
and discovered cedar holdouts,
I am angered by the waste, by the fruitlessness of all
the commotion, your mouthed insensibility,
I am frustrated by the hours you wore like a slipknot,
by your disregard for commitments, and
the way you blow dried your own agenda,
how you sabotaged even the laughter with
your contrived blue smiling ingratitude,
I wished away so many evenings in a state of sleep,
you stole my daydreams,
I am jostling the balance of javelins on a whisper,
I am passed the hurt but not the lingering residue
of your charcoal impressions,
you haunt me like ash.
Kevin Harling.
♅
Something's are best left unsaid
It's true that somethings are best left unspoken
so the poet in me will not utter a sound
but the ink on the paper will reveal how your eyes
make my sky bluer than blue, how your smile
makes the dawn blush with powdery pink cheeks,
how your hair highlights yellow and turns it into
glittering diamonds, how when you sigh the wind
is silenced becoming still and watching in wonder,
how when you blush the ground trembles softly
whispering sweet nothings with envy.
I will not utter a single syllable, for you are
beyond the scope of the most beautiful words.
You are lighter than light, more truthful than
any known truth, more genuine than the sun's radiant
rays.
Something's are better left unsaid,
but you could never be more perfect.
Kevin Harling.
I saw the afternoon crowd my horizon like a pillow case
shutting out the light like a tawdry window,
I felt the air as if it was a razor, jabbing with short
dull jabs into my midriff,
I wondered how come 1 and 1 never gets you 2,
I let the shutters spill like sugar all over my chin
and when the minutes fell like rain, I sat
pondering your useless minutes of pandering,
I stalked the orchards looking for fences to topple
and discovered cedar holdouts,
I am angered by the waste, by the fruitlessness of all
the commotion, your mouthed insensibility,
I am frustrated by the hours you wore like a slipknot,
by your disregard for commitments, and
the way you blow dried your own agenda,
how you sabotaged even the laughter with
your contrived blue smiling ingratitude,
I wished away so many evenings in a state of sleep,
you stole my daydreams,
I am jostling the balance of javelins on a whisper,
I am passed the hurt but not the lingering residue
of your charcoal impressions,
you haunt me like ash.
Kevin Harling.
♅
Something's are best left unsaid
It's true that somethings are best left unspoken
so the poet in me will not utter a sound
but the ink on the paper will reveal how your eyes
make my sky bluer than blue, how your smile
makes the dawn blush with powdery pink cheeks,
how your hair highlights yellow and turns it into
glittering diamonds, how when you sigh the wind
is silenced becoming still and watching in wonder,
how when you blush the ground trembles softly
whispering sweet nothings with envy.
I will not utter a single syllable, for you are
beyond the scope of the most beautiful words.
You are lighter than light, more truthful than
any known truth, more genuine than the sun's radiant
rays.
Something's are better left unsaid,
but you could never be more perfect.
Kevin Harling.
Thoughts of Edgar Allan Poe
A Night With Poe
and so it goes like the syringe deep into the woods vein
carving a delicate swath into the never-ending night
ravens eyes copulate and gather around the bend
waiting like vultures for this parched frail figurine
to abandon what little hope their is left,
dusk spits black powdered rain upon these thoughts
spilling like an eviscerated tongue upon the forest floor,
I took a wrong turn left a half mile back or so
approaching a light vague in the distance, hoping
hoping for what I have no ______ idea,
abysmal my attempts to deduce anything by reason
my compass has veered north magnetic, lost
these are nomadic thoughts, full of decaying foliage
rusting and seething like over steeped black tea,
you would be right if you said it sounds dreary,
the pulse faint and barely breathing, chilled by a cold
blue wind, howling like some deranged banshee,
it is nocturnal, blood letters tracing the night,
searching for some sort of respite oasis in the shadows,
everything is coming down like crumpled mercury drops
leaking collusion like a bad transmission, stalling and when
it couldn't get any worse, lightning boomed announcing its
bitter arrival, Poe would be in his glory tonight, dancing
on tombstones with bones as calcified drumsticks,
chanting some mystic voodoo song in a language
fit for pygmy dwarfs crossed with Orcs,
I could feel the soil grabbing my tired ankles
pulling me closer like gravity had hands,
this was a night from hell alright, spinning a web
all its own and waiting for the end with a sarcastic
vampire laughter, Poe would be in his glory,
dressed in a bright red cape on his throne, calling
come closer you are almost here.
Kevin Harling.
Rant
You tried to peddle your pieces but they don't fit anymore
your disengaged fingernails, your disclaiming eyeballs,
you minion, as motionless as the flowers.
You left me like carry on luggage, waiting for your arrival
like a disheveled waistcoat thrown on the ground in a heap,
I grind my teeth like a tambourine, spitting ulcers instead
of bullets.
Its over, your feet are invisible now, you are a scallop
lost in your own greatness.
Kevin Harling.
and so it goes like the syringe deep into the woods vein
carving a delicate swath into the never-ending night
ravens eyes copulate and gather around the bend
waiting like vultures for this parched frail figurine
to abandon what little hope their is left,
dusk spits black powdered rain upon these thoughts
spilling like an eviscerated tongue upon the forest floor,
I took a wrong turn left a half mile back or so
approaching a light vague in the distance, hoping
hoping for what I have no ______ idea,
abysmal my attempts to deduce anything by reason
my compass has veered north magnetic, lost
these are nomadic thoughts, full of decaying foliage
rusting and seething like over steeped black tea,
you would be right if you said it sounds dreary,
the pulse faint and barely breathing, chilled by a cold
blue wind, howling like some deranged banshee,
it is nocturnal, blood letters tracing the night,
searching for some sort of respite oasis in the shadows,
everything is coming down like crumpled mercury drops
leaking collusion like a bad transmission, stalling and when
it couldn't get any worse, lightning boomed announcing its
bitter arrival, Poe would be in his glory tonight, dancing
on tombstones with bones as calcified drumsticks,
chanting some mystic voodoo song in a language
fit for pygmy dwarfs crossed with Orcs,
I could feel the soil grabbing my tired ankles
pulling me closer like gravity had hands,
this was a night from hell alright, spinning a web
all its own and waiting for the end with a sarcastic
vampire laughter, Poe would be in his glory,
dressed in a bright red cape on his throne, calling
come closer you are almost here.
Kevin Harling.
Rant
You tried to peddle your pieces but they don't fit anymore
your disengaged fingernails, your disclaiming eyeballs,
you minion, as motionless as the flowers.
You left me like carry on luggage, waiting for your arrival
like a disheveled waistcoat thrown on the ground in a heap,
I grind my teeth like a tambourine, spitting ulcers instead
of bullets.
Its over, your feet are invisible now, you are a scallop
lost in your own greatness.
Kevin Harling.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Laying it Out in the Open
Soul Bleeding: A Song For You
Somersaulting depths I have traversed oceans drifting further from the source, You,
I have swam channels of thickets looking for, You,
I have transcribed every constellation dreaming of, You,
and still I could not see the Lighthouse, You,
I have felt you call through the mists of a thousand sleepless tears
and still turned the other cheek,
I have languished ink until the pen screamed stop, hoping for, You,
I the fool who refused the sky its breath, who sold the seas salt,
lost in a wilderness of crumbling lines, waiting for, you.
Where, when, how does this happen like wind, the petals that fall
like a stubborn rain upon this weathered brow.
I cannot make anymore excuses nor run anywhere but closer, closer to still
to where your true heart roams.
It is You, the flower who taught the sky what it means to believe in blue,
who sought only to be acknowledged with whispers,
It is You, the beating heart of every letter I have discovered,
the rhyme of all the sentenced reason I have let erode.
Today dawns anew, these hands softened by You, these eyes that can no longer deny the earth its wings, it is You.
I sing with the dolphins, soar with cormorants, these palm wings sweating and lucid to touch, You.
I am tormented by this oblivion that casts its anchor like a tempest
the trembling pins that shake at my core announcing your departing,
how solemn this breath, black and cold,
your eyes window has shuddered my light into night,
I dare not slumber for insomnia is far better a prison sentence.
I have held the wind, felt its blazing anguish and still I need more.
This is oblivion, rank and in a state of dismay is their any repair?
to where must one turn when the sun is not permitted to smile,
I ache with knives and cold steel courses like a river through my core.
I will not silence my rebuttal against eternity, I will vanquish any storm, endure any hell, for this cannot be.
Oh vow of impoverished absence, is this death for I no longer breathe air,
I am a trampoline heartbeat of strings shivering in a world where one is not enough.
How can this be.
now as always you transfigure the letters, twist the words lips into truth, the light shines neon bright and holding fast,
entwined syllables that would rather melt than be torn apart,
I hear you heart, beating wind that sighs happily,
so be it, and yet, even in the silence it is still you,
will always be you, love does not fear distance, it treads bold,
you are the morning silhouette, the shadow creek spilling like a melody,
the chattering poplar tones of yellow,
when you dance I follow and lead, embraced by the honey,
nothing can tear asunder this bliss, we were never apart,
two rose petals molded by Cupid, destined to sing together
within the lines in each others beings
and so it ends, like today's ghost, haunted by the moonlight chant
tomorrow reigns on the horizon,
and forward is all that I see, behind is but a glimpse into a mirror
that has revealed its silver cracks,
be true to yourself my emerald pebble
Kevin Harling.
Somersaulting depths I have traversed oceans drifting further from the source, You,
I have swam channels of thickets looking for, You,
I have transcribed every constellation dreaming of, You,
and still I could not see the Lighthouse, You,
I have felt you call through the mists of a thousand sleepless tears
and still turned the other cheek,
I have languished ink until the pen screamed stop, hoping for, You,
I the fool who refused the sky its breath, who sold the seas salt,
lost in a wilderness of crumbling lines, waiting for, you.
Where, when, how does this happen like wind, the petals that fall
like a stubborn rain upon this weathered brow.
I cannot make anymore excuses nor run anywhere but closer, closer to still
to where your true heart roams.
It is You, the flower who taught the sky what it means to believe in blue,
who sought only to be acknowledged with whispers,
It is You, the beating heart of every letter I have discovered,
the rhyme of all the sentenced reason I have let erode.
Today dawns anew, these hands softened by You, these eyes that can no longer deny the earth its wings, it is You.
I sing with the dolphins, soar with cormorants, these palm wings sweating and lucid to touch, You.
I am tormented by this oblivion that casts its anchor like a tempest
the trembling pins that shake at my core announcing your departing,
how solemn this breath, black and cold,
your eyes window has shuddered my light into night,
I dare not slumber for insomnia is far better a prison sentence.
I have held the wind, felt its blazing anguish and still I need more.
This is oblivion, rank and in a state of dismay is their any repair?
to where must one turn when the sun is not permitted to smile,
I ache with knives and cold steel courses like a river through my core.
I will not silence my rebuttal against eternity, I will vanquish any storm, endure any hell, for this cannot be.
Oh vow of impoverished absence, is this death for I no longer breathe air,
I am a trampoline heartbeat of strings shivering in a world where one is not enough.
How can this be.
now as always you transfigure the letters, twist the words lips into truth, the light shines neon bright and holding fast,
entwined syllables that would rather melt than be torn apart,
I hear you heart, beating wind that sighs happily,
so be it, and yet, even in the silence it is still you,
will always be you, love does not fear distance, it treads bold,
you are the morning silhouette, the shadow creek spilling like a melody,
the chattering poplar tones of yellow,
when you dance I follow and lead, embraced by the honey,
nothing can tear asunder this bliss, we were never apart,
two rose petals molded by Cupid, destined to sing together
within the lines in each others beings
and so it ends, like today's ghost, haunted by the moonlight chant
tomorrow reigns on the horizon,
and forward is all that I see, behind is but a glimpse into a mirror
that has revealed its silver cracks,
be true to yourself my emerald pebble
Kevin Harling.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Seeking Solitude Standing
Poetry
You have become the dawn alabaster, the pearl cheeks of my breath, you are the wide open vista of dusk, crimson and recoiling about my waist, you are the blue wandering rays of sunshine I set off into. O poetry my solace, the hand I reach for, your simple
lines of flesh, peach and succulent. I wear your cloth of satin, feeling it cling like the sun, bathing me in tourmaline radiance, holding me like a swan. In your reeds I wade the waters, lingering like a firefly, your brow my mantle, the place where love hovers and surrounds time like a vestment. I return to your hours of patient solitude,meandering like a dove who needs no wings, for you are flight. O poetry, my enchanting tall sycamore grasses that sing lullaby's, you are the soft gentle wind, the Heaven to which I sink my teeth, I kneel in your bosom, a child in safe haven.
Cover me with your orange verses, swaddle my chin with the perfumed nectar of myrrh, speak to me as if
you are all I ever need to hear.
Kevin Harling.
You have become the dawn alabaster, the pearl cheeks of my breath, you are the wide open vista of dusk, crimson and recoiling about my waist, you are the blue wandering rays of sunshine I set off into. O poetry my solace, the hand I reach for, your simple
lines of flesh, peach and succulent. I wear your cloth of satin, feeling it cling like the sun, bathing me in tourmaline radiance, holding me like a swan. In your reeds I wade the waters, lingering like a firefly, your brow my mantle, the place where love hovers and surrounds time like a vestment. I return to your hours of patient solitude,meandering like a dove who needs no wings, for you are flight. O poetry, my enchanting tall sycamore grasses that sing lullaby's, you are the soft gentle wind, the Heaven to which I sink my teeth, I kneel in your bosom, a child in safe haven.
Cover me with your orange verses, swaddle my chin with the perfumed nectar of myrrh, speak to me as if
you are all I ever need to hear.
Kevin Harling.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Thanksgiving
Dreams
A pomegranate sky
shoulders my eyes today,
stars of crystal wishes
fill my mind with
the smell of vanilla,
teddy bear hopes transmit
my message to
wayward pelicans
loitering
within my peripheral vision.
This day autumn crisp
shines like a
pumpkin
hardly able to
contain its grin,
the hours I forget
time has no place
here.
Dreams white and fluttering
like angel wings sing,
a chorus of gummy bear
notes,
hummingbirds hum along
in perfectly synchronized
beats.
This heart is speaking
mambo jumbo
lost in the blue blue yonder
discovering laughter
and joy all around.
May the dreams we hold inside
smile forever.
Kevin Harling.
A pomegranate sky
shoulders my eyes today,
stars of crystal wishes
fill my mind with
the smell of vanilla,
teddy bear hopes transmit
my message to
wayward pelicans
loitering
within my peripheral vision.
This day autumn crisp
shines like a
pumpkin
hardly able to
contain its grin,
the hours I forget
time has no place
here.
Dreams white and fluttering
like angel wings sing,
a chorus of gummy bear
notes,
hummingbirds hum along
in perfectly synchronized
beats.
This heart is speaking
mambo jumbo
lost in the blue blue yonder
discovering laughter
and joy all around.
May the dreams we hold inside
smile forever.
Kevin Harling.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Horizons
Changing Seas
Iguana twilight lit up the sky weaving chalk
like a monastic javelin and
somewhere around morning the margins
became opaque.
One could feel the skies armour gathering
like a green shield.
I thought the water seemed to slither like
a giant anaconda coiling and percolating
with hungry eyes,
shedding its blue skin like
a jaguar sheds its feathers.
I was looking in the mirror of change,
glass, nondescript and speaking mute pebbles,
laughing at my nervousness.
Inside the fear felt like a knife, full of
sharp pins, but I knew in my heart that
tomorrow was really no different than yesterday.
Kevin Harling.
Iguana twilight lit up the sky weaving chalk
like a monastic javelin and
somewhere around morning the margins
became opaque.
One could feel the skies armour gathering
like a green shield.
I thought the water seemed to slither like
a giant anaconda coiling and percolating
with hungry eyes,
shedding its blue skin like
a jaguar sheds its feathers.
I was looking in the mirror of change,
glass, nondescript and speaking mute pebbles,
laughing at my nervousness.
Inside the fear felt like a knife, full of
sharp pins, but I knew in my heart that
tomorrow was really no different than yesterday.
Kevin Harling.
Autumn Relections
Just Thinking Out Loud
I drew lines delicate llama trying to widen my gaze upon the bluest of horizons. I sketched my heart like a lily sky, treading clouds with soft shuffled taps. I needled the air like a pine butterfly, flying amid the copious dawn light. I gathered the sea in my pocket, feeling the ebb and flow against my salt skin. I hovered in the tall grass plains like a mountain solitude questioning the sunrise's knees. I longed for sleep with satin wrapped hopes, and wished today would just kneel in violet prayers. I stood like stone upon the phosphorous ground speaking about the vastness of what it means to be alive. I ventured into the wilderness of solitude with tears for a sleeping bag. I made suggestions to the Heavens and waited for a reply, but all I got was cobblestone distances that mocked me with nocturnal laughter. I took brine to heart with invisible gestures, the dizzying scarlet whirl of movement undoing before my eyes. I imagined numbers in immense equations, but always ended up at one. I denied the doors their right to open, preferring the anonymity of shadows, a morning ghost seeking to find autumn.
Kevin Harling.
I drew lines delicate llama trying to widen my gaze upon the bluest of horizons. I sketched my heart like a lily sky, treading clouds with soft shuffled taps. I needled the air like a pine butterfly, flying amid the copious dawn light. I gathered the sea in my pocket, feeling the ebb and flow against my salt skin. I hovered in the tall grass plains like a mountain solitude questioning the sunrise's knees. I longed for sleep with satin wrapped hopes, and wished today would just kneel in violet prayers. I stood like stone upon the phosphorous ground speaking about the vastness of what it means to be alive. I ventured into the wilderness of solitude with tears for a sleeping bag. I made suggestions to the Heavens and waited for a reply, but all I got was cobblestone distances that mocked me with nocturnal laughter. I took brine to heart with invisible gestures, the dizzying scarlet whirl of movement undoing before my eyes. I imagined numbers in immense equations, but always ended up at one. I denied the doors their right to open, preferring the anonymity of shadows, a morning ghost seeking to find autumn.
Kevin Harling.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Rainy Days
Just Like Still Water ( it ripples )
Like a sycamore, you come swimming with telegrams,
your disposition of magnolia,
you walk in flying clouds for shoulders
extracting vinegar like the wind.
Like the moon that moves snail hovering,
hovering beyond the wines night,
you come vaulting in like a rainbow braid,
uncoupled by the anise sky of blue.
Like the dawning of a tear white,
you linger smoke red eyes like a lost mariner,
lamenting the gradual decay of wooden hopes
like a sailboat of ears listening.
Like the flint of water you dissolve,
hemmed in by whistling bells and morning,
you loiter like charcoal in the dusk's hands
trying to measure your skin with laughter.
What lies dormant between us inhabiting the sea
like an umbrella, nameless and choking like wings
of a blind dove, you could fly away to where?
Like the inconsolable tomorrow that asks no questions
you leverage forgetfulness like an anchor,
choosing stubbornness as a colour to wear
throwing stones as if skipping across a lake.
All of this seems close to faraway, today
sinks like a leaf of mute ivy, harrowed by
hipbones and ankles of displeasure, these
ambushed lips violet and fretting like the waves.
Kevin Harling.
Metamorphosis
Mother-of-pearl butterfly tunneling through the light
whip lashed by the perfume of nocturnal slumber
awaken this night of eyelashes,
your butterfly feet of nipples that crackle
like the movement of dawn in cathedrals,
show me silver distances and lips made of wings,
show me your uncertain cupola of bells,
chiming like a stones skin,
whisper to me with black notes of blood
descending like a sheer stocking,
tell me about your reincarnated thong, how it
sounds when it sings in the mist of morning,
Mother-of-pearl butterfly land upon my silence,
furrow in my savannas, rest aroused in my
vines of peach metals, engorged by the delicate
weathers here, and change.
Kevin Harling.
Like a sycamore, you come swimming with telegrams,
your disposition of magnolia,
you walk in flying clouds for shoulders
extracting vinegar like the wind.
Like the moon that moves snail hovering,
hovering beyond the wines night,
you come vaulting in like a rainbow braid,
uncoupled by the anise sky of blue.
Like the dawning of a tear white,
you linger smoke red eyes like a lost mariner,
lamenting the gradual decay of wooden hopes
like a sailboat of ears listening.
Like the flint of water you dissolve,
hemmed in by whistling bells and morning,
you loiter like charcoal in the dusk's hands
trying to measure your skin with laughter.
What lies dormant between us inhabiting the sea
like an umbrella, nameless and choking like wings
of a blind dove, you could fly away to where?
Like the inconsolable tomorrow that asks no questions
you leverage forgetfulness like an anchor,
choosing stubbornness as a colour to wear
throwing stones as if skipping across a lake.
All of this seems close to faraway, today
sinks like a leaf of mute ivy, harrowed by
hipbones and ankles of displeasure, these
ambushed lips violet and fretting like the waves.
Kevin Harling.
Metamorphosis
Mother-of-pearl butterfly tunneling through the light
whip lashed by the perfume of nocturnal slumber
awaken this night of eyelashes,
your butterfly feet of nipples that crackle
like the movement of dawn in cathedrals,
show me silver distances and lips made of wings,
show me your uncertain cupola of bells,
chiming like a stones skin,
whisper to me with black notes of blood
descending like a sheer stocking,
tell me about your reincarnated thong, how it
sounds when it sings in the mist of morning,
Mother-of-pearl butterfly land upon my silence,
furrow in my savannas, rest aroused in my
vines of peach metals, engorged by the delicate
weathers here, and change.
Kevin Harling.
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