Friday 18 February 2011

The muscle of my love

 

 Presentimiento, from the series Vanitas by Fernando Vicente 
www.fernandovicente.es

In the kindest embrace


and the saddest letting go,


the muscle of my love


longs for touching you


as it hopes to be touched by yours





and stay strong and flexible.








Through between the rusty bars


of the darkest prison,


the fingers of my love


yearn to caress your cheeks


and reach your hands





even for the faintest instant.





The muscle of my love


awakes and reaches out,


stretching its open arms,


languishing to hold you firmly,


to wrap you gently, to feel you softly





in the feeblest of the nights.





Like a dancer who can’t speak


of the future or of the past,


my love for you moves about;


at times clumsily, at times graciously,


as the muscle of my love sings freedom





at the mere thought of your bare beauty.

Sunday 13 February 2011

About lonesome love and other distances

  Winter Sunrise, Sierra Nevada, from Lone Pine, California, by Ansel Adams.

Here I am again:
another still silhouette 
standing helplessly 
among the edges 
of the highest margins.
between clustered clouds 
and vast horizons 
of distant, rising valleys.  

Holding the torch 
of my childish heart 
the unarmoured echo 
of my stubborn words 
gallops loudly. 

Squalling in protest, 
my broken voice 
strides relentlessly 
in resilient, resonant rallies:  

Why don't you?  
Why don't you dare, my love?
Why?