inanimate muses

With anonymous faces

you watch over my cradle,

your voice as soft as the aurora,

hair the color of a Ditch Lily

brushes against my cheek

and when I look up

my own face echoes back

at me.

My first rainbows are soaked

in your tears,

I am busy with life Mother,

its been so many years.

I am  filled with light,

is that so wrong?

 

 

google art

 

 

 

what the night birds sing – poetry by Gurkski

What the night birds

sing when dreaming

I can translate to you as though

I were another  San Francesco.

They sing this: open your heart

like the blossom of a Ditch Lily

kissing the warm night

in the dark light.

Let the Pegasus of your most

daring fantasies fly high.

That’s what they sing

in this sweet night.