Tag Archives: #romance

Hold My Hands

HOLD my hands
become my Queen
Inside our hearts
is a wired fence
within a hidden door
Weeping Clouds
Weeping Tears
Weeping Eyes
How wonderful are butterflies
tasting forgotten dreams
inside this heart
is all for you
And i love her
She gave me everything
eternally and her kiss
brings cool breezes
How could a love as ours
ever die ~~ bright and
loving is a love of mine
it shall never die
Loud are the lovers who cry
for losing Love
Proud as I am
I forever know
she’ll love me
until the skies
fall dark
it’ll never die
and I love her.

:: 07.20.2022 ::


Sognare il Cuore Dell’Amore(Dreaming Heart of Love)

I will not die until I’ve won!

My reverie is like a fever, on which I take the form of a sleeping man.

Down, then, to a stately castle, with golden walls and marble stairs; a bloody fool is dead,
whose eye is on gold.

There on the blood-soaked floor, I am white as a prophet’s sin ere I fear you.

Delicate, delicate is the white mist around my shoulder! And e’er I look up and glance the hot eye, there, a flame of flame.

One night I see in it a horrible shape, a monstrous giant, a pale horse of night that gallops on,
up, up it goes, in grim agitation, among the thick black walls.

‘What do you see, god?’

‘An enemy of the castle that is mine.
In God’s name, come to me!

I desire you.

From the grave and through the sky I go to him; there, where the beams run out
of light at noon, thou shalt be born! Thou shalt be born!

How loud are the shouts!
What drums!
The sea is boiling!
Thou art born!
How painful is the birth, and how sweet is the nurse, who nurtures the maiden!

‘Thou shalt be born!

:: 07.11.2022 ::


My Personal Hell

YOUR HEART without passion
your cellar without a door
your kindest eyes
ruthless color
stabbing my heart
without leaving traces
towards Heaven with haunting voices
is my personal hell.

:: 07.07.2022 ::


THE WALKNG LIVING GHOST

i felt dreams dripping away
how i felt the dream for a
day that lasted years.

i still recall the taste of
my own voice laughing for
pure joy knowing deep love.

until it was ripped away.

you can make this go away
you can make this all go away
until it went away.

I still feel the deep pain
of losing everything.

How i still wish something
i can never have…

and now the colors are gone
how love made it go away
how love made me a loser
living scraping inside my head
until i don’t want life any more:

words. spaces. paragraphs
love, inside my head. regardless of
academic structure i want
what i can never have
and those things i lost sting and
break apart this poetic heart.

Tell me: you can make this all
go away so make it all go away
/die\ become a ghost instead
someone who lives upon this Earth.

You walk across my living grave.

:: 03.17.2022 ::


BLACKBIRD HAS SPOKEN

Sweet \ Rains new fall, sunlit from Heaven like the first dewfall on the first grass.

Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden sprung in completeness where His feet pass.

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning.
Plant me in His hand and get rid of my feelings, curse me with my faults and put me
into your lap, Get rid of my blemishes and make me beautiful.

Praise me with psalms and hymns and songs of praise. Praise for the woman with her hands
blessed AND hear my cry, you are my guide, lord of my life.

The Lord has opened to me a door of mercy and gave me the grace of Your hand and light
shone around me with rays of great love.

Like the first dewfall on the first grass
Praise for the sweet pleasures of the morning
Foam in my eyes, and trembling in my knees,
Like the first dewfall on the first grass

Praise for the sweet pleasures of the morning
Flower-strewn at dawn, I am lifted in thine arms

But my soul I leave at the tomb of Thy death
Praise me with songs, I live to praise, praise with psalms and hymns and songs of praise.

Praise for the woman with her hands blessed
Hear my cry, you are my guide, lord of my life

The Lord has opened to me a door of mercy.

:: 03.02.2022 ::


WIDE BLUE SKIES OF KISSES

A blossom of heart
a brain of red storm
that soars in swarms
of indistinct dreams
holding frail fingers
of silver nails
writing two charming
words:

“loving you”

And within the scene
of heavy hair where
dew falls my trembling
fingers wander
wide blue skies of
kisses bathing jumbles
of blooming flowers

merci, interrupted by
trembling and saliva
whispering resumptions
on the lips or desire
for kisses___

A soul rising and dying
that constant desire
to weep in gray indolences.

:: 02.14.2022 ::


A TORRENTIAL RIVER WE SWIM

BY deep purple night as land and air lay
was tight as time as this was might
brimming love tonight

My heart gave into the vein of green
it gave unto blissful sky
a moon and sun as son
a mother buried into the Earth
tonight /we sang through tears
we sang with love\

If by love then by Soul
forgiving all sin
that lovers can control:
what? Nothing. A torrential
river we swim!

is true LOVE.

:: 02.09.2022 ::


The Mystery of Love

The mystery of Love
is that i never met you
but have held you within
my dreams tightly as each night
hungry i prowl the streets
within my dreams till dawn
disrupts me, i devour moments
of these fragmented scenes.

Today is yesterday’s tomorrow
and tomorrow is today’s dream ;
as a wolf i prowl the sovereign
heart i call my Love as a puma in the barrens
of Quitratue.

is how i adore the love of you and love’s mystery.

:: 01.18.2022 ::


GOODNIGHT DEAREST ANGEL

GOODNIGHT my love and dearest angel
how long since you should
have closed your eyes.

Can we save the deepest questions
for another Life?

I feel you have one upon your trembling
lips; how too I have since I knew you’d go.

And how ships have sailed.
And oceans eat the sailors of
brave hearts.

I promised I could never leave you
and so know: goodnight my love
and dearest angel and now it’s time
to sleep within the ocean’s deep.

Remember all the love we had within
emerald bay eyes — and as an ocean
i am rocking you to sleep inside this
ancient heart of mine.

Always a part of me.

:: 09.03.2021 ::


PALE BLUE PUDDLES

The little dog is gone, the little dog is gone,
and all that remains of him is the memory
of a coat of moss-green, with a few leaves,
and the little stump of a tail.

But the dog was there upon one sun’s first rays kissing hills,
and send the ripples of their rays through the pale blue puddles.

They are nocturnal folk, and they live, and have their days in the
dark and their nights In the dark.

But I know not who they are, Nor where they live, nor what they do,
Nor where they come from, nor where they go.

But I know the wind With one another, out of doors, In the shade of the trees.
Their fires, like those of men, Are small and swift and soon are cold;
And when the evening is gone And the night-shadows are upon them,
They light their fires again, And sleep by day, and by night and when the
day is gone And the night-shadows are upon them, They light their fires
again, and sleep by day, and by night.

They are like men in the winter when they have their feet bare, and
the snow is deep, And their hats and their coats are all but mended,
And their boots have holes in them. And they walk with their heads bent,
And look about them like so many old men, And speak to each other in whispers.
They are like men in the winter When they have their feet bare, and the snow is deep,

And their hats and their coats are all but mended, And their boots have holes in them.
And they walk with their heads bent And speak to each Sleep by day and by night.

The nightingales are still sleeping, And all the silent crickets and frogs are
out in the garden at the dusk’s last.

The owl is dreaming by the brook And the field-mice on the farm are fast asleep
in the wall.

The moon is a light, fair-shining stone That hangs in the dark hollow That glows when the stars have fled. And I know that the silent people Who live in that lonely house
Are wondering and wondering what I am doing in the twilighT. In the dusk’s long dark.

I am sitting alone in the dark, And I am thinking that I am The child of that land that is gone, That has vanished many a summer ago, And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls, And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.

O’er ruined fences the grape-vines shield The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed. I dwell with a strangely aching heart In that vanished abode there far apart On that disused and forgotten road that has no dust-bath now for the toad.

Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart; the whippoorwill is coming to shout and hush and cluck and flutter about:

I hear him begin far enough away full many a time to say his say before he arrives to say it out.

It is under the small, dim, summer star.

I know not who these mute folk are who share the unlit place with me– those stones out under the low-limbed tree.

Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.

They are tireless folk, but slow and sad,

Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,– with none among them that ever sings,
and yet, in view of how many things, as sweet companions as might be had.

The sun’s first rays kiss the hill, and send the ripples of their rays through
the pale blue puddles.

They are nocturnal folk, and they live, with one another, out of doors.

:: 04.23.2021 ::