2 poems

[Guest guest]

I feel You

oh skin of my skin,

we shall ever dance inside earthly incarnations,

melodious facets of our One and only jewel,

Love,

we, ever hidden in our brilliant shining

break wave upon wave of well-known ecstasy

gathering deep, eternal flame and mystery

how a man and woman, stretched to limitless shores and

destinies

in the cadence of dancing and fragrant flowers, in this

benevolent time--a human garden's return to the

prayerful hands of Mecca as evergreen wandering snails

unveil Eden in Prophets and Poets, clothed as

abandoned angels and gossamer insect wings,

we are but a mere shadow-return to

pale shades of how blood remembers,

crimson remnants of ever-breaking hearts, ever

being torn asunder by whimsical Gods.

 

We are as fields of a dreamless dream,

of clover growing in some eternal spring pasture

on a lonely and star-hidden planet,

as descant frogs break the silence with the call of an

ancient pond, as the sound of one hand clapping

in the scent of a strange and delicate wind.

 

 

 

1.

 

Sleep, you flow through me

like the gaunt dark shadow of an unknown Lover,

mourning doves stir in my Soul,

amusing isn't it how time arrives

in a sleeping prophet?

releases yet again the central cast of characters, a subplot,

a perpetual rerun in these days of my life,

perhaps a huge stubborn rehearsal of daily words, drowned out

by grave insistences that are not mine, fearsome lonely creatures

of sea and night standing guard, diaphanous barriers

that will not let you appear no matter how I commit myself

to believe I will ever be near enough,

crossing these terrible shores of a melancholy destiny we

make in our image,

Gods,

remembered by these well-worn hands of time,

a seamless cloth

weaved into an ancient ritual of hands all Lovers make,

as incarnations dance in the fissures of saltwater bodies,

as oceans of mist must ascend,

I smile a crooked smile, imagine you called out my name

in the want of evening-scattered starlight,

suspend for a moment the howls of our serpents slithering

across this impending doom mask I must wear,

an act of contrition

and walk out the back door of this poem you have hidden me in.

 

2.

 

The paper-white narcissus are blooming a steep and narrow ledge,

waft memories,

intricate patters of daylight and Lovers who held each other

in the nearness of time merging from opposite shores, from

faraway arms and places;

Lovers often leave footprints like broken shells, scattered

on marbled sands

drifting in and out of paper-thin hearts.

 

3.

 

Isis is a name I have called myself,

A Goddess who appears

in tangent dreams to a melon-glow sunset,

I kiss my Beloved on his lips,

Breathe deep His Soul,

disappear into fervent dreams of a quicksilver moon,

gather deep in a

Crown Of Love,

grow thorns this day.

 

 

Love,

Ana