Song of Seasons

Hold me in  fleeting hours

when we are beautiful and wild,

our flesh  full and ripe, winged creatures

drinking up the night  as honeysuckle

is sustained by the  sun and the rain.

Stay  when summer departs and the

garden sips at  laughter pooled in

the irides of  our eyes.

Lie with me in winter when the

birds hold their song,

tiny skeletons of  hollow bone

indifferent to the cold.

For you my lips are   petals,

sweet  reminders  of lost flowers.

If  you do not return

but fly on  to distant gardens

my body will seek shelter

beneath wings of tongueless birds.

House of Heart
Halt mich fest in flüchtigen Stunden
den schönen und wilden,
unser Fleisch ist voll und reif, geflügelte Wesen
saugen die Nacht auf, Jelängerjelieber,
die von Sonne und den Regen gespeiste.
Bleib, wenn der Sommer vergeht und der
Garten vom Lächeln nippt,
das aus der Iris deiner Augen blitzt.
Lieg bei mir im Winter, wenn die
Vögel zu singen einhalten,
winzige Skelette aus hohlen Knochen,
gleichgültig der Kälte gegenüber.
Für dich sind meine Lippen Blütenblätter,
süße Erinnerungen an verlorene Blumen.
Wenn du nicht zurückkehrst
sondern weiterfliegs, wird mein Körper Schutz suchen
unter den Flügeln zungenloser Vögel.
translated by Bernd Huschenreuther

canadianbeauty

art by Steve Hanks

an almost kiss

I enjoy most the wind
carrying dandelion parachutes,
dispersing tiny seeds across a meadow.
That same breeze winding
erratic patterns into my hair.
The softness of a new sweater;
it will never feel so soft again.

I like to explore the meaning of
of life over a glass of wine,
all laid back and philosophic
unless it becomes oppressive;
then a soft smile to break the tension
and an almost kiss.

The pale window

The sun is still low in the sky,
it’s rays have barely begun
to pierce the chill of our pale window.
Don’t go,  we are scarcely out of dreaming.
Caress my breast with the lifeline of your palm
while my head rests in the crook of your shoulder.
With these  fingertips you kiss one by one
I will ease the furrow of your brow and
soothe your body with the twining of my own.
Let the hours pass  through us tenderly
like a shallow river of fledgling reeds.

 

Steve hanks art

 

the burden of forgiveness

Glistening sand pulls away

from a shore,

sparkling gems caught in the current.

Minute ecosystems inhabit

tiny tide pools in the wet sand.

Sometimes I stroll the embankment alone

indulging the realms of lovers

where there is no logic but

a crushing ache held close to

the breast.

A carapace between a heart and the

mountains where I left you.

Grant me the freedom to breathe

beneath the tender weight of hands

on eggshell.

My sigh is a gentle quake upon your

unshaven cheek.

Allow me to swim in the river of

your impossible eyes where there

is no threat of war, hard silence,

or the burden of forgiveness.

Steve Hanks - Tutt'Art@ (13)

Art by Steve Hanks/ Maher Art Gallery