Open the sash on the window, brother
-Let in the first moments of dawn
Open the sash on the window, brother
-We shall return where we are strong
Listen, to the ghost’s story
Whistling the waltz of our past
The flame within his lantern
Reflects the truth, behind our mask
Can the sun create colors thro’ the mist
When our heart is left unkept?
How can our hand- held flowers bloom
When in the rain, is where we are left?
Meet me where the willows touch
In the land of butterflies
This is the road lit for the lost
For children with unheard cries
When we close our eyes
We can open our sights-
Join me brother, in our field
Where the strawberries run wild, and free
The birds laugh our name in yellow
Where we drift on a blanket breeze
Can you still see me, my dear-
Dressed up in lilacs of velvet?
Will you still remember me when-
The snow blows over the sunset?
‘If I should lay me down to sleep’
Ever- so gently, sing me our song
Of two babes, that went lost in the woods
; and learn that peace, is where they belong
When we close our eyes-
We can open our sights
Category Archives: Poetry
My Hand
Seek me out to accompany you, my love
Feel my breath in the moments of the sun
See my essence thro’ the depth of the star’s deepest scape
Hear my voice call to you, within the dance of the forest
Inhale my scent from the earth’s purest perfume;
As rain is carried upon wings of a gentle breeze
My dear, this is where I shall be found
Rob my will and place it’s very kiss within your breast
As you may inherit the glitter which falls by night
Need not in the common which unfolds to mask the truth;
To do so, transparent sights shall endow your fate
For the crown of light shall be placed to adorn our brow
The hour when the curtain falls, and our spirits sing praise of rebirth
My love, tis’ this moment of eternal sands, when repetition comes to close
The flesh’s flame is buried, to extinguish the empty harvest so sought
Awake now, to gaze upon the fed wick of enchantment;
The mystic flame which ignites to your path, and calls upon you by name
Listen, as the angels of providence enter our unlocked corridor
Hushed is the sound of the whisper
Which shall entice us to ride bareback upon spiritual seduction;
And answer to the whistle of the wind
Ah! To be but truly of self
Yet, to still exsist within each blade of grass that sways
Every leaf token shall bare our fingerprint, within it’s veins;
As every new-born bud, shall find nourishment from our very womb
~We shall bask in the divinity of early dawn
~Hold hands with the rays of the sun
We shall inherit the mystery of the moon’s glow
And cast shadow-puppets throughout the land to toil
Embrace my released bodice, and hold me ever so~
For tis’ the moments of our communion
To soar together on tides unbroken;
And capture our refection upon the kissing clouds
Cloth your spirit upon the outside, allow your flesh to expire
Tis’ this death that shall invite you to take my open hand
~And eternally awake
Seek me out to accompany you, my love
Feel my breath in the moments of the sun
See my essence thro’ the depth of the star’s deepest scape
Hear my voice call to you, within the dance of the forest
Inhale my scent from the earth’s purest perfume;
As rain is carried upon wings of a gentle breeze
My dear, this is where I shall be found
~I am, but waiting..for you.
To Gaze
I watch her sit there, lovely
Beside the azure, crystal, stream
Sun laughing throughout her hair
Dandelions kissing her knees
She hums a song, familiar
Her mother once loved to sing
A song meant for her smile
Her name was the melody
Carefully, she plucks the petals
One by one, off the daisy’s crown
Thinking of ‘love me, love me not’
Releasing the tokens upon the ground
Her sky painted eyes sparkle
From the light of secret keys
Which unlock earth’s treasure
When tears lace her soft cheeks
Although, the rapture of storms will rise
On her hillside, where sunflowers speak
She adorns a blessing beside her heart
-A crucifix, with dried, rose beads
She studies the clouds play masquerade
While they sail across a lazy sky
Curiously, they shift to change shape
Silently, she wonders deep inside~
-Why could I not be born a bird,
To soar with open arms, so free?
I would decorate each sunset;
And get lost within a night breeze
-Why can I not be dressed with wings,
To harbor the beauty of a dove?
Why is my gift, soil beneath my feet,
Has my flesh not suffered enough?
Then, windows of her eyes wept sorrow
-Like two panes that frame melting, stained glass
She raises her arms and face, to heaven
Worship renews her spirit at last
She can hear the calling whisper
-Of the wind caress the trees
Inhales the scent of blossoms
-While the earth beneath her breathes
I watch her set there, lovely
Beside the azure, crystal, stream
Sunlight laughing throughout her hair
Dandelions kissing her knees
I look for just a moment longer
Into the reflection, which is.. me
Dip my finger to twirl the water
To gaze at my spirit, dance in peace
Lexis(words).
the defence and apology of my poetic method is
beauty not measured by divine madness rather
jury theatrical in the court of melodramatic grandiosity
as trial has ended the verdict is out guilty as charged
for many verbal excesses and stylistic arrogance
idiosyncratic genius of story as ballad has fail
very few liked my distorting remembering my iconoclastic
theories of love
to mesmerize, obsess, and educate in my sail
became a slave of metrics artificial impulse.
poetry of heart of darkness , my archetype.
original and conceptual ancient lines
in the web-like domain of grant didactic vision
i am a non -prolific writer lost in the the boundaries shade
wants to persuade lovers of different taste
cave in to my desire to please the crowd, to climb to the next stage.
i lost my craft my island of fame but poet is not an island Aristotelian mate
my divine inspiration my art my technê. has deserted me
I finish…this is my ambiguous ending
In your blue veins where my fictions begun
born and vanish
in these virgin shores
white marble glory aqua stone
erupting from the dust of the universe
unfolds a peculiar immensity of freedom
and beatitudes of mind
not yet explored the emotions
you see that innate boundaries
are frontiers i shall never know
illuminated beauty
the sea i shall never possess
radiance of women
evening falls
around the flowering inner
when the darkness stirs
we veiled velocity as chariots of embrace
in your blue cuneiform veins
i see my stillness
and the streaking spaces of bleeding
a surface of memory of lyric voices
whirling rivers of intimate eloquence
in your blue veins where all my fictions begun
dimmed light and perpetual motions
then vanished as serpents and lines
of sandstones of flesh
we slept in the ancient aegean rooms
in the hypotenuse hills
with honeysuckle and thyme
till our veins pulled the moons
and the rhythms of our tangerine minds
Galileo and The Modern Day Woman
It was one of those moments
when she realized nothing
in life is ordinary, in the
true st sense of the word.
At about the same time,
she discovered it wasn’t the
destination that caused her
happiness, but the journey itself.
And although she proclaimed herself
a “summer person,” she learned to
appreciate winter and all it revealed.
She had read once, Galileo, genius that
he was, believed comets were optical illusions,
a thought that offered her comfort.
For if Galileo, “The Father of Modern Science,”
with all his wisdom and intelligence could make
such a mistake, why should she, a mere modern woman,
be ashamed to have made a few of her own?!
in the land of lystrygones
modern castaway i am travelling with seven tourist virgins
to Ithaca the island of such Homeric fame
blind the storm winds blind the moist rain
blind also I am a naval Tiresias
from long life wasted in the lands of cyclops and lystrigones
returning sweet is my return before the dawn enters
sand is smooth hearing the sea absorbing all her tides
lightness and delicate sense movements
hieroglyphic syllables the silent waves
i am as leaf in breeze in stillness and in tempest
an old soul formless like sea abyss stirred – agonised
my symbolism is vanishing , but not my grace and language
my philosophies fainted but not my offerings aim
my coastline rough and ragged with deeply carved bays
but still a visionary with my Dionysian spirit and song
washed up in the land of Nausicaa waiting for my Persephone