Dilating Suns that Blur the Spring #Poetry #NaPoWriMo

Stripped of Myself

Oh, the pleasure is in peace
In flowers for the spring
In the rain’s soft offering

And hours of flight and calm
The uncertain harvest of nature
About to get into full bloom

That’s beauty, anticipation
Of perfect trees and dilating suns
And stars lost in their orchard of lights

The suddenness of God
As if reserved for only
A few days a year,

In this mortality
Nature is divine
And I am sacred too

O to behold the ghosts
Of love when nothing else is known
And beauty, when truth

No longer has the power
To rectify a life.
Stripped, I’m starting to
Float free, an unleafed
Orphan, a heart
Broken until this moment
I know nothing about
Giving myself back to life.

Fragment #NaPoWriMo

Duality Loves Too

If our love is stronger than love
It is not love, it is nature
For only nature would be wise
And good enough

To make such a love as us
For there’s no best season
To love, it’s the duality of time

We carry a bit of love with us
Wherever we go, it’s hardwired

And endangered in
This age of selfishness
Where individuals can easily go
Thirty or forty years without tasting it

Since to fall in love would
Mean to lose control

If our love is too weak to last
Was it love, or only time?
For time is sometimes
Wise enough to separate us

And strong enough
To do what was right in the end.

Seasons to Sing

Poetry is another philosophy of life

I’ve been drunk on words
For a decade of my golden-bronze
Youth that found inner maturity
On reading poems

Finding truth and beauty
In the voices of human hearts
That were left on pages

There, as if for me to read
The writer is the sacred audience
I’ll never roll my eyes
At a work of art, because

I know how much sweat goes into it
It’s a labour of love
I’ve been drunk on lyricism

For lyrics of a few minutes
That burned and blew
In so much mental well-being
It made divinity accessible

And the stars seem more near
Broadening the inner horizon
Like a fresh mind

Poetry does not require
Work, it’s a play
Let me explain
Just read more of these words

Inserting images of rebirth
And autumn unimaginable
Of the destiny that was spring

The spring I have found again
In mental vocabulary
We all possess this poetic capacity.

A Pilot from Uncommon Language

Freedom in Obscurity

I never imagined I’d experience
The repetition of experience
As pure freedom
The inner grammar

Is the failure to criticize
I am walking rapidly
In the slow-motion

From death to dream
To birth again, to be a poet
Is to obey letters of water
Powers of lucidity

Discovered in surrender
I never imagined I’d experience
Freedom in self-limitation

In the simple twilight of
The same landscape
I found the underbelly of genius
Where I reached the lines

I was supposed to (have)
The drowsy nerve of soul
Where all pleading stops.

Hearing voices like a Poem

Why Read Poetry

I have translated voices
To the ends of beauty
I have known intimately
Such wild abandon of soul

I cannot translate that
Spirituality transcends poetry
That I have experienced
I read poetry to get glimmers
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Because at times I have stopped
To look through the rain
For the wished for words
The wished for loves

The intimacy we are nomads for
I read poetry because the lady
Next to me on the bus
Is reading a book of poetry

And I wanted to know her
It all starts innocently enough
I read poetry because I know
That in the space between poems
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I will be looking in life for
The symbolism of her pages
A manticore muse I never find
The imagination of faery and ocean

And an intuition of whim
That undresses all other pleasures
By comparison of how superficial they are
The enjoyment of the spirit

I cannot translate that
But I can pretend.

The Gift

Ode to Forever Swirling Sunlight

My final notation will come
Close to silence, it will be subtle
It won’t take me long to write
Poems ought to come naturally
Like kissing and giving voice

To what burns to get out
It will take all of my heart
The beating poor little thing
That loved too much, with
All the breath in the world

It will be simple, in that
The final notation is always
Somehow about God
Who is as simple as
The universe, as fresh
As the cities of the future

My descendants will know me
By what I chose to say
What I never planned, but was
What I dreamed most
At the core of my ribs
I am coming to all the pieces

Of my life that led me
Divinity, the outstretched gift
That was a human life
Like a valediction of all virtue
And a forbidden taste of morning

Before I even got to undress
In the empty notations of the sun.

The Birds know How to be Brave

Return of the Canvasser of Birds

Though its song evokes joy
The birds of spring are not so different
Than us, they need new life
Welcome change, cherry blossoms
They insinuate what we already know
The waxing of Moons led to this

Where the stories swell over
Brimming with what
Survives the storms
And follows you home
To the fire, where you are safe
A bird’s song washes away

The bad memories, like rain
In April, the distance of dividing
Your golden moments into a person
For a silver care to serve that person
Each time you fall in love, you leave
A bit of your dreamy youth behind
And the song of birds evokes

The oracle’s voice, the prophet-time
The bud in you that refuses to
Bloom ever as fully as you know
You are capable, happiness is relative
We share a table at spring with visitors
Visitors that we have been waiting for
As if all winter, our cycles admire us

They visited our ancestors
And have returned to kiss us gently.

Forever New Beginnings

On Days like Immortality

On days when I think of myself
As a clean stranger, I get
To start again a true new beginning
Mirrors speak casually to me

My name in the voice
Of others sounds different
I learn to measure
The world’s feedback differently
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Once I am unleashed
A new person, something long-term
Changes in how I treat others
That’s when I know

I am Immortal, a soul on a mission
On a tiny gem of a Planet
Reciprocally I become
An interaction in real-time
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I speak up more, and say less
In a few gestures
Than ever before
There was no annual

Catastrophic disappointment
Just me, on days like a new beginning
Mirrors became windows
People became mirrors.