PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Sometimes my mirrored thoughts are the only trustworthy reality I know ... and I become fragile within my vulnerability and my yearning ... a glass dove transfixed by the spear of brilliant Light ...



I am a ray within a raum of darkness.  



I would love to fill this raum with the only truthful Light I 'll ever be able to give: the fusion of colour into the Mono-ray of Happiness - Jesus Christ. I seek Him within my failure. See this poem as an attempt to purify love with Love.



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Colombes de l'amour



oh my love you puzzle me

let us meet then in a coffee house

in a back street

in a dim lit little room



to talk with smiling eyes

and silly philosophies of love

and the like

talk of general nothing

where the heart speaks more

than the moving lips in motion say



then tell me of the cutest little vase

you found in the market today ...



holding lotus flowers I suppose?



sssshhhh

no oriental cliches -

when a man meets in a coffee house

and sits across the table

he knows the talk will be of nothing

and the pauses between the speech

everything



she smiles



no she says I want to tell you

about the soft eyes

of the ancient birds

I want to tell you how I coo my love

through the windows in their eyes



tell me what you wish

and move me as I listen

he whispers tenderly



I want to tell you how I coo into their eyes

she pleadingly repeats

and stroke their feathers with my love



she crosses her feet

and lifts her chin from her palm

to talk about the birds



he listens, with a slightly tilted head -

past the wing span beating of the ancient birds

he listens to her heart



did you find one in the market place today my love?



I was nurturing them with my voice

she says, ignoring his question



I asked them:

did anyone ever touch you and speak to you;

a human with the voice of a bird?

they looked at me patiently with soft wide eyes

filled

with the Love of God



she drifts off into her secret memories

closing her intimate chambers

with transparent eyelids



and? he prompts, closing his eyes too



... and they answered me with syllabic silence

that flooded my eyes

with the salty showers of the mountains



oh! she suddenly exclaims

how I longed to be filled with that love

so that I may rise and fly



his eyes open with interest

are you not filled with that love?

he asks



no, she answers

I am filled with sorrow

sometimes it showers joy

and the sweetness of the heart is exposed

briefly



why are you filled with sorrow

if I am here

he asks but she sadly looks at him

whilst caravans of centuries

travel over the desert of her mind



listen Love

he continues

sorrow too is a bird

it sometimes lumbers around on grey wings

blocking out the sun



I am filled with sorrow because my heart

is pulsating outside my body

unfeathered and cold

like a dying wet bird

the vultures will peck my soul from my eyes

if I do not cover their shimmerings

with the shadows of sadness



ssshhh

he comforts

tenderly draping his velvet voice

around her vulnerability



oh Love

she moans softly, leaning towards him

touching his fiery eyes with the fever of her own

I need the cover of your Love

to protect me from the claws of vultures



he smiles ruefully



I am but a slight quivering in your hands

an invisible transparency radiating warmth

diffusing into your being

please seal my soul within the loft of your Love!

she begs



he lifts her face to his and barely kisses her

her lips move under his

softly

the room fades to black

as if they were standing in another place

but inside themselves

outside of time and space

he kisses her on the tender corner of her mouth

which lifted first whenever she smiled

her head so slightly turned

as if aside

their mouths not parting

moved timeless

in a barely preceptable motion



her eyes close



the kiss is a soft one

as if a kiss placed upon newborn flesh

stringing thousands of kisses

within one sequenced Kiss:

white doves descending on them

motionlessly and soundlessly

enfolding them both

within an intense vibration



a kiss across a table

unaware of being observed



they slide apart

the broken formation of birds

their eyes meet and share ecstatically

she makes no sound but a slight seraphic smile

ringing its glass bell

she moves to the resuming of the kiss

thunderous within his eyes



I will write this into poetic prose she whispers

I will make this into a song he dreams

I will write us into Eternity

she promises hastily



her eyes a sorrowful farewell

stroking his face gently

until he fades away



myra

05.06.2003



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