A Poem

I wrote this just for you

I want it to be perfect.

Its verses clear as a summer sky

carnation clouds ascending.

May I lean back in your rose colored

swing until it is time to go?

I don’t want to own,

I just want to be  here.

 

 

 

 

Translation By Bernd @ Neues Vom Hutschi

Ich schrieb dieses Gedicht
nur für dich.
Ich möchte, dass es perfekt sei,
mit Versen, hell wie ein
ein Sommertag.
Wallende Wolken,
aufsteigende Nelken
aus einem Garten, den ich erschaffen habe.
Lehn dich zurück in meine Rosenblüte,
eine farbige Schaukel und
geb dich Tagträumen hin,
bis es Zeit ist zu gehen.
Ich möchte, dass du regierst …
Ich will nicht besitzen,
nur dabei sein.

she doesn’t speak french

On sleepless nights

I stroll the left bank in black sequined heels,

My eyelids heavy with sparkling glitter.

Among the art I find you, your aura

travels through my veins ,

settles in the pool of my heart.

 
soft lights flicker their last warning in our dark cafe where like willows we sway to lost songs.

Suddenly you are gone, my Modigliani reclining never hearing my sigh
Je t’aime, the only French I know.

 

Image result for art by Mark Spain

Mark Spain Art

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

unruly lover

For you I will be
the sun who shines
without expectation,
a breeze that shapes soft
passages when you travel
uncertainty.
Let me be your madness
that sets  desire in motion,
the moon pulling tides
drawing you closer. 
When my words fail
my body will speak for me.
Of air and flight, strung of stars,
let me be the light you
return to.

 

 

https://i1.wp.com/68.media.tumblr.com/46ccf3162680be36e1ba170827da7212/tumblr_nhaqxk1EvH1u52yz0o1_500.jpg

 

Indulging Conjecture

pink sand pulls away

from a glistening shore,

melting fondant in the

sticky heat.

Minute  ecosystems inhabit

grottoes in their  tide pools

of wet sand.

Some days I stroll the coast alone,

indulging realms of lovers

where there is no logic but

a crushing ache I hold to my breast,

a carapace between a heart and the

mountains where I left you.

Allow me to come undone

beneath the  weight of tender

hands on eggshell,  my sigh a gentle quake       On

unshaven cheek.

Let me   drown in the river of

your impossible eyes where there

is no threat of war…hard silence

or the burden of forgiveness.