chimera

You want her to be real
A half smile curve of lips
a glide of a hand through hair

the click of heels on a marble floor
You want to be her clothes
falling  softly about her feet 
that have formed the shape of wings 

and when she arches her back
she soars as high as chimera can fly.

Luigi Quarti

art by Luigi Quarti “fallen angel”

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while I was thinking of you -während ich an dich dachte

My words are

flames meant to melt the

frozen chalice that is your heart.

In the  white night across the continents

we feel but never touch.

Too sacred for light we set the night on fire

Profane infinity too flawed to alter fate.

While I was  thinking of you a fledgling

fell to earth

swooped up by the wind  on her

passage to life

red head on a bench

während ich an dich dachte

Manchmal fühle ich meine Worte
als lodernde Flamme, die schmilzt
den Kelch deines goldenen Herzens.
Geborgenheit liegt in der Stille, wenn
wir die Kontinente durchqueren.
Wir fühlen uns, doch berühren uns nicht, lassen den Mond
uns verschlingen, setzen die Nacht in Brand, zu heilig fürs Licht.
In deiner Gegenwart bin ich weltlich am heiligen Himmel,
eine Blasphemie aus Fehlern, zu gering, das Schicksal zu ändern.
Während ich an dich dachte, fiel ein junger Vogel
nieder auf die Erde, Wind rettete ihn auf dem
Weg ins Leben.

(Deutsch von Hutschi)

The Watcher

The sky is bleached

a roll and crash of thunder

the grass is tall

beneath the rain trees

I ache to leave

my crying place

before melancholy claims

this ruinous summer

let me stretch out

like some sexy feline

a carnivorous Panther

fighting the

impulse to pounce

Kenya Canvas Print featuring the photograph The Watcher by Denis Charles

Photography by Dennis Charles

wolves

Between sleep and wake

traversing birth and death

there is the faint hint of earthy

candles.

Macabre dreams are scattered like

strophes of sonnets

the sensation of pearls spilling

like tiny moons through open fingers.

At the boundary I find you

not a spirit or  rose tinged snow

but flesh and bone and sinew.

I am sleeping less now

roused by the wing beats of boreal owls

circling an  ancient Cypress,

their knife edge talons entwined in

webs of moss clinging to  knotty limbs.

Fitful gusts burst through

barriers of creaking walls vibrating

my hemispheres to consciousness.

A  celestial  tapestry of recollection

lifts  me over  the valley to a  moonlit

hillside of sweet lea where a silver

wolf lies   beside me.

He is the scent of golden wheat and

his eyes are the color of the eastern sky.

we had wings

Then , wisdom grew from fruit

We were winged and freedom

was etched on the soles of our feet

We knew nurturing green earth

and deep blue ocean fed skies

The pathways of earth and heaven

were known not charted

We stepped naked into the blazing sun

bared ourselves to golden rivers and

awesome tidal thunder

scattered like stardust

art by Wysocki

Mock Lullaby

Deep as the Mariana Trench

The finest opus of Nightingales

A paradise where birds

sip nectar from petals that

unfurl just for you

Let me leave my mark

Roses beneath the snow

Lovers

Caught in a mock sinners lullaby

Pexel.com

She Doesn’t Speak French

On sleepless nights

I stroll the left bank in sequined heels

My Eyelids heavy with smoky glitter

Among the art I find you

Your essence pierces my veins

Settles in the pool of my heart

Dim lights flicker their last warning in

the cafe where like willows we sway

To long forgotten love songs

Then you are gone never hearing  Je t’aime

the only French I know.

Image result for art by Mark Spain

Mark Spain Art

“Je t’aime, Je t’aime  (lyrics by Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin)

“I love you

Like a fool like a soldier

Like a movie star

I love you I love you

Like a wolf like a king

Like a man that I am not

 I love you like that”

Temple Bell

Your eyes are the crescent

of a silver bay that circles my mind

in the deep mystery of sleep

your voice an invocation of bells

that once rung cannot be undone

in dreams I am your dancer

beckoned by your call

a charm on a well cut cuff

a link on a diamond encrusted chain.

Shadow Art Print featuring the photograph Portrait of a beautiful woman dancing by Noelia Ramon - TellingLife

“The Dancing Girl” by Noelie Ramon

Song of Seasons

Hold me in  fleeting hours

while we are beautiful and wild

winged creatures of the night

sipping honeysuckle vines

sustained by the sun and rain.

Stay  when summer departs and

butterflies flit at teardrops pooled in

the corner of my eyes.

Lie down with me in winter when

hoar frost coats the rose buds

and  blue birds cease  their song

tiny skeletons of  hollow bone

indifferent to the cold

These lips are   petals

reminders  of lost flowers

If  you do not return

but fly on  to distant gardens

my body will seek shelter

beneath the feathers of

tongueless birds.

Translation by Bernd @ neues vom Hutschi

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

Gold Dust

From the train window

I can see miles of Pine trees

that seem to go on forever.

There’s a golden wolf howling

at the moon

chanting to the midnight Gods.

By morning Pine trees give way to

Palms and screeching Cicadas.

Tonight the moon reveals the belly of

the world  from which we all come.

All that I have left is a photograph.  

Tell me night-time dreamer why you

hold so many secrets in your heart.

When I look into your  eyes

all I  see is star dust.