Saturday, 1 March 2014

The beauty of my spotless eyes.


My mind tiptoes into assaulting memories. 

I hide my words and bite my tongue. 

(Remembering like this needs silence). 

But my hands take a life of their own, 
they dance with my stubborn heartbeat, 
and scratch blank pages with vivid dreams. 

Those precious moments that are just gone, 
almost unannounced: 

To love, to cry, 
to win, to lose, 
to surrender to beauty 
as it becomes the pupils 
of my sad eyes. 

But oh, 

how could I not be grateful 
for having lived so many dreams? 
in company, in solitude, 
with lovers, with strangers, 
with you, my love, 
my sweet friend? 

Do you remember how 
I loved you, how I cried with you, 
won you once, was stubborn, 
and then surrendered? 

I lost you. 

Still, your beauty is all 
my spotless eyes see, 
without ever shedding a tear 
nor a single shadow 

of regret.

Thursday, 13 February 2014

White canvas

I welcome the white canvas. 

May the reason why 
we paint on it 
be our humble wisdom, 
our loving inner light. 

May the colours 
that we choose 
be the landscape 
of your truth and mine. 

The future is empty, 
the past is gone. 

But we are still here, 
holding our hearts, imagining 
the many shapes of hope, 
as the first brushstrokes unfold. 

I welcome our blank canvas. 

What its vastness becomes, 
is yet 
to be 

(Originally published in Smith).

Tuesday, 11 February 2014

Quiet and colourful

Lovers and northern lights, by Paul Bloomer

Impossible to lie when the answer lies in my heart. 

Impossible not to scream and cry, 

and beg compassion not to abandon. 

And that is when my love overflows anger and sorrow, 

and expands like a clear sky 

opening to kindness, to the *light* 

until all is quiet 

and colourful. 

(Originally published in Smith).