bewitched #poem #poetry

perhaps I was bewitched by the North Star
or by a ballad as dateless as my blood
geography of feelings populates unwanted interludes
my eyes, the nests of dewy grass and leaves
emerald eyelashes flaunt
black taffeta chirps between my fingers like piano keys
inside my soul your kisses soar
soft lilac tones like prayers of the youngest nun
perhaps because I read your poetry last night
and cut my soul between a stanza and a strife
perhaps a child played with a kite
a kingdom for a sup
maybe it was the wind
that woke me up

Published in the Indian Periodical, March 3, 2019

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image: Irina Alexandrovna, Shutterstock; [link]

astral mandolin #poetry #poem

play in your room the mandolin tonight
paint the air with aurora borealis’ chant
arabesque designs awake my soul
the shining sound the time reverses

play in the streets your mandolin tonight
its cords,
your love for me…
my heart choreographs the scenes…

fragment from the poem “Astral Mandolin”

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triolets #poem #poetry

“I wish to see you walk through the Arco de Elvira, to find out your name and shed a tear.” Federico García Lorca.

 

a violet sunset laments in the city
saps of triolets flow on my neck
ah, Granada
I stretch inside your memory
like felines on grasslands
a lily cries
my bracelets dangle
the eyes of candles flicker in your Spanish nights

fingers of lascivious desires
steal from my neck the saps of triolets
Granada
play your magical guitars
unleash the beauty hidden in your walls
the frenzy of the flesh which dies
into the ardent gestures of your dance
under La Puerta de Elvira
yesterday two lovers met
and I,
I wait in tears
for the love
which knows the mysteries of triolets

 

published by Spillwords Press on February 26, 2019

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my poem “lovers without love” recited by Robert Taylor #poetry #vblog

My poem “lovers without love” recited by the exceptional Robert Taylor. I am honored.

you, quest of lovers without love
your unrelenting islands beaten by the wind-blown sand
the sea
extends its waves beyond the singularity of night
the silk of clouds is looking for the sky
scales of reeds chime songs,
cries of those whose loves have sunk

I bathe in the aromatic rose of the moonlight
the night bathes in the foam of the blue waters
a bed sighs
the silhouettes of three carnations gossip on the floor
alienation
empty hearts expecting to be slaughtered

the sand receives me
in the distance a mast decides to flicker
the quest of lovers without love
on a wicker chair
a lonely glove

@short-prose-fiction

Meet a young author: Andrew McDowell #guest post

Dear Readers,

Andrew McDowell, the author of Mystical Greenwood in his own words:

“Though I know why I write , pinpointing what first inspired me to start writing is still difficult to answer. As I’ve said before, as a child I relished in my imagination, putting myself in different worlds. I’ve always loved stories, both written and dramatized. Plus, due to my Asperger syndrome, throughout my life I’ve had a variety of strong interests which I pursued learning more about. Maybe it was a combination of all these factors coming together at the right time. Certainly now as a writer, I want to keep trying different forms and genres, to keep learning and growing.”

Visit Andrew’s site here 

Mystical Greenwood, Book I of One with Nature

Publisher: Mockingbird Lane Press

Dermot is a fifteen-year-old boy living in the land of DenĂş who has always longed for something more in life. His life changes when he encounters a gryphon and a mysterious healer. Drawn into a conflict against one determined to subjugate the kingdom, Dermot and his brother Brian are forced to leave their home.

 A legendary coven must now reunite, for they are Denú’s greatest hope. In the course of meeting unicorns and fighting dragons and men in dark armor, Dermot discovers a deep, sacred magic which exists within every greenwood he crosses through, but his own role in this conflict is greater than he suspects. Can he protect those he loves, or will all that’s good be consumed by darkness?

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Adam’s sin #poem #poetry #published

a canary sings
nuptial interludes
your flesh pays its tribute to some other lovers
transitory birds
come and go like seasons
noisy V-shaped flocks
i sigh
then i listen to a monk who reads
from a book of psalms
rings sleep on my fingers
arabesque designs shiver on my skin
pastel sunsets whisper in the winter’s sheen

i walk through your dreams
soaked in poetry, baptized by your verses
your heart adorns my chest
(work of ancient minters)
your lips burn my rings, and with them my fingers
agonizing wings toll bells in the air
i go for your veins, my hands rip your shirt
everything’s a dream
at the edge of silence
mirrors sleep and grin

you’re forever mine!
do you think i joke?
wait!
here’s the silver coin which can get you off

ah,
that’s what i thought
you would never take it
in the lovers’ bed monasticism’s asleep
a cat purrs on my thigh
your eyes become my eyes
my skin tastes like sweet pie
see, why Adam was so keen to sin?
for hidden in deep waters
You is always I
even in a dream

Published by Spillwords on January 22, 2019

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image: PinkCat/Shutterstock