The heart was created to speak, you tell me
Being close to you is like
A monsoon of words
A translation from Arabic
Into the light of your signature
Meditation, these faded eyes
Know you, recognize
The idealism, of being nine-teen again
You who give blue alms
To the broken horizon in me?
A penny of a star?
A volume for spiritual food?
Being close to you is like
A monsoon of words
Is this twilight constitutional?
That I would wish to hear you
Speak, gentle, softly, as if
I could relish the bird-voice
Of your girlish philosophy
With your breasts to the wind?
With your throat to the cosmos?
Whispering of atoms and immortality?
Very creative and in depth. Was a thought pondering read
Thanks Albert, I was reading another poet and it’s crazy how everything influences everything else.
That’s what makes us writers phenomenal. We don’t look at black and white. We also look at and understand the grey. One’s works inspires another’s greatness.
exactly 🙂 we can feed of each other as artists…
Indeed. True indeed.
Your words constantly move me.
I’m so glad to hear that Annie 🙂
If someone can touch your heart with words, then surely that has to be what poetry is all about. Without the feeling the words would be meaningless. You have an amazing talent for touching a persons heart and soul.
Words and imagery, symbiotic as nature
That’s true Michael, i sometimes forget that
I love this.. these are words that manage to caress.
Thanks Sheila, for poets like us I guess words have more power to move us…
absolutely 🙂