bright lights, eternal inspirations

So honored to be included with this wonderful collection of poets. Thank you, Yelena! 🙂

Selene and Endymion

Tags

endymion, eternal, learning, love, memory, mythology, poem, poetry, selene, spoken, time, writing

In the Beginning

I.

Oh he,

the star of my night
when I knew not
this space within me

he finds it filled
of coffee, and dust, and rust, and dirt;
waiting.

Inside this place
he settles in
so many colours;

purple and royal blue
and sepia
now infused with mine.

And the colours
of my (his) soul bleed
into a mercuric moon

kept safe by
the sea that
knows us.

II.

During the night
of a dying planet
you heard my cry.

Find me
between
time’s rain and memory.

Pull me
through
your heart’s pulse.

Feel me
in the colours
of our intellect.

Then, you took me to the edge of the sky.

III.

He sweeps up bones and glass
in my softest place;
the quality of mercy.

I drip in drops
of milk and honey
between breaths

between beats;
he licks my weighted leaves
and the bark of secrets

strewn on a road
of stones, we
wash clean.

Present day

IV.

Yes, it was an auspicious beginning
but, the edging of my soul
is still held in his mouth

his tongue flutters filling me with words and images and sound

as we spin
obliquely
up.

Posted for dVerse Poets week #90 (Wow!) www.dversepoets.com

I always wanted to learn about mythology, so I decided to start by writing this poem. Selene’s lover, the Moon, is attributed to Endymion, the first person to observe the movements of the Moon.

Silence

Tags

ancient, cameo, conch, dverse, poem, poetry, primordial, sea, writing

I.
During the time of silence

the moon pulls us
through the froth
of a thousand years

inside the giant conch
sliding along
its smooth skin

we spiral
towards the tip
with accelerating speed

engraving a cameo with each wave

breaking the surface
of aragonite; stroking our way through
calcium and carbon and oxygen

riding
to the mouth
of the cave

and inside the walls drip like chimes.

II.
We rise
from
the sea

wrapped in algaen truth

my tendrils
slip across
your chest; taught

leaking phosphorescent green

you peel
my skin so I can match
the moon’s shimmer

and we leave
the decorated trumpet
on shore

for those who will come when the sound begins, again.

Posting for DVerse Poet’s week #80 http://www.dversepoets.com

Of Orange Sky

Tags

autumn, connection, fall, nature, poem, poetry, sky, transition, writing

Yesterday, I felt autumnal air; dry.

In the dark hour
a rain cool and light
and a crowd of shameless leaves
we turned our backs on
so they could be free.

Today, I heard autumnal sounds; distant.

Knowing the present land, and daylight, and burn
looking up, to see the formation of an arrow
as down is carried in a wide zig-zag toward my feet
and a knowing of the present harvest;
we feed our bodies whole.

Tomorrow, I become the autumnal sky; orange.

Of comfort and a tree
we’ll lift our faces
and the stars will cover us
until the journey’s end.

For OLN 66 http://www.dversepoets.com

Violets in Algiers: II

Tags

home, longing, love, memory, pain, poetry, series, time, writing

The Casbah stall is just like it was
so long ago when my eyes were filled
with colour, the blue of a crystal dusk.

Fingertips caked with dust
and coffee, they swept across
the cool carpets, so many I can’t choose.

Your peaceful face
so natural, as you rummage
 through a basket of zills

trying to find the notes
to match the symphony
of ringing glass chimes; cresting.

He was carrying a beautiful curtain of small bottles in red and blue and violet.

In the change
of that moment, a shot
and me holding his head

from underneath
the carpet, with dark
spots of red, spreading, in my lap.

I exhale a quiet scream;
and the air became
filled with mint tea

and black khol
that became violet;
wet and grainy.

Fingering the carpet’s sticky silk knots, I wondered if the maker was loved.

That night
my palms opened
waiting to touch you

but my ribs rattled like
hollow chimes, so
you swallowed the sorrow

of my heart;
squeezed by your
strong hands

as I poured over you
so we could be free
once again.

And, if I recall, when it was all over, we gazed so hard at the grey sky and longed for the snowy, white mountains of home.

Posted for dVerse Open Link Night #60 at www.dversepoets.com

Violets in Algiers: I

Tags

algiers, colour, memory, poem, poetry, stained glass, violet, vision, writing

My throat, full
of shadows and
the memory of time (time’s memory)

wrapped in stained glass;
a window that tells the story
in colours.

Red is the blood,
blue is the sky of dusk, and
violet is the snow
of a bloody night in Algiers.

I take a hit of pop rocks as a train cracks by; my eyes bleed grey.

Remembering those nights; how
we kept the moon’s silver secret;
drinking in amber, and smoke, and rose

the odour of sanctity
blossoms from the bodies
of saints strewn between

the white buildings
rising from
the sea.

I blink through violet snow and the platform becomes Casbah’s labyrinth.

Posted for dVerse Open Link Night no. 46 at www.dversepoets.com

Winter Ghosts

Tags

energy, future, poem, poetry, time, writing

And, in my mind
there came a day
when winter ghosts

left icy walls, and
the crease of a wooden door
expanded, as

the roundness of velvet soothed my heart’s chambers.

West of here, I wait
to be a third wife within
a shadow of water’s memory;

forming, and then
dripping, down the rings of ribs
like hallowed bamboo, as

we chime for the earth.

Posted for dVerse Poets’ Open Link Night 43 at www.dversepoets.com

Narcissus

Tags

French, Gabriel Faure, memory, mirrors, music, narcissus, paper white, pavane, poem, poetry, time, writing

Mouthless shadow;
a mirror’s
backward clutch.

Winter bulbs forced
from summer’s
pocketed stones

as narcissus skin
glows like velvet;

             the beauty of soft paper.

Nectar collected
in a hollowed palm;
fragrance dripped in F-sharp

as hazy sunspots bounce
in a wood-paneled room
scratched into silver;

he drinks
from his fist

             essence pours on his tongue; volatile.

His palm tilts sideways
my petals fall in a silent crash
from his gaping mouth

etched
in mercuric time
of a year passed;

             looping; shifted images and tempos.

Posted for dVerse Poets, Open Link Night #35 www.dversepoets.com

Pavane by Gabriel Fauré is a thread that has woven through my life. As a young flautist, I performed this piece several times with a youth philharmonic orchestra and many years later it’s come back to me and been inspiration for this poem.

I’m very grateful to receive the Liebster Award from the very talented and ever supportive writer Edjo Frank @Edo Frank  http://www.http://edjofrank.wordpress.com/

Liebster (German) is in Dutch language – Lieveling – my dearest, is the word we use for the one that is your most special, the one you love beyond borders.

 In accepting this award, the recipient agrees to:

1. Show thanks to the blogger who gave you the award by linking back to them.
2. Reveal your top 5 picks for the award and let them know.
3. Post the award on your blog.
4. Bask in the love from the most supportive people in the Blogsphere.
5. And, lastly – have fun and spread the karma!

A difficult task to choose only five of all the amazing blogs I visit, but here they are in no specific order:

Raivenne: http://raivenne.wordpress.com/
Someone I’ve very recently found, but her thoughtful and rich posts have made me a huge fan in record time. Good thing I’ve subscribed, I wouldn’t want to miss anything.

Lili: http://amethystaind.blogspot.com/
A Twitter friend and writer of deep romantic love and connection. Fellow lover of purple ink and Pablo Neruda.

Heaven: http://a-sweetlust.blogspot.com/
My kindred Sister. Writer of wonderfully sensual poetry that leaves me in a sigh.

Claudia Schoenfeld: http://jaywalkingthemoon.wordpress.com/
A favourite dVerse Poet’s Pub poet and prompt facilitator. Super talented and ever supportive from my first blog post, last summer.

Gay Reiser Cannon: http://hollyheir.wordpress.com/
Blog and Twitter friend. dVerse favourite who puts out the most interesting and challenging prompts! Wonderful poet who writes about travel, art, music, dance, animals and more. Her words have made me laugh and cry.

Visit these wonderful poets and they will enrich your soul.
Love, Eva

Tanka I

Tags

japanese, love, poem, poetry, tanka, writing

In the crisp night air
we met at the maple tree
as we have each moon.
Your eyes shine in daybreak’s sun;
my antique hairpins disarranged.

 

Posted for dVerse Poet’s pub Form for All: Writing Visual www.dversepoets.com