We’ve cleaned our shabby haven, tossed a mattress onto the bare floor. At the edge of the bed you sip whiskey the color of your eyes that when you are aroused erupt in hues of green and gold. Facing the dingy wall I shut my eyes and listen to the whir of the rusty fan. I decide I can’t do this anymore, that this can’t go on. Your hand reaches for me and I shrug it off. In a flickering instant we fade into our own space. I’ve been practicing the art of slipping away and from above I look down on us until my eyes shut in sleep. When I wake you offer me drags from your amber leaf cigarette, we watch the curl of our smoke vaporize into the nicotine stained ceiling. I pull the linens over my cold skin. Lately you tell me this is not enough. You don’t know the burden of commitment. Your sad eyes attack me when I am most vulnerable. To distract you I pull the covers away and we make love, whisper profanities to one another, laugh and fall away exhausted. Your eyes sparkle like stardust, a small boy at the top of a Ferris wheel. Secretly I vow to end it, to never meet you here again but my heart is a red sports car racing along the edge of a cliff.
art by Mark Spain
It is an honor to be included in the below referenced entry at La Audacia de Aquiles.
Aquileana has worked her magic and brought the mythical god Hephaestus to us in all the splendor that only she can weave. The beautifully told quest of this Greek gods journey is enthralling and told as only she can do. Aquileana invited me to write a poem in collaboration with her story ( a challenge with such a hard act to follow!) I hope you will visit her outstanding blog. Thank you for this honor Aquileana, joining you was such fun.
I wrote this poem
just for you.
I want it to be perfect,
its verses bright as a
a summer day.
from a garden I’ve created.
Lean back in my rose
colored swing and
day dream until
it is time to leave.
I want you to rule…
I don’t want to own,
only to visit.
Translation by Bernd at Neues Vom Hutschi
“Ein Gedicht” – Es ist Welttag der Poesie – dieses ist für dich
Ich schrieb dieses Gedicht
nur für dich.
Ich möchte, dass es perfekt sei,
mit Versen, hell wie ein
aus einem Garten, den ich erschaffen habe.
Lehn dich zurück in meine Rosenblüte,
eine farbige Schaukel und
geb dich Tagträumen hin,
bis es Zeit ist zu gehen.
Ich möchte, dass du regierst …
Ich will nicht besitzen,
nur dabei sein.
I have forsaken
hybrids for humble
swells of wildflowers,
a token of garland winding
well worn pathways
above the roots of giants,
dispersing flax seed for
hummingbirds that hover
Let me live in still life
adorning urns of lovers
basking in the amber glow
of untamed gardens.
Paul Gauguin – – Bouquet de Fleurs – 1899
a soft wave I cascade
around you, a distant diamond
set in the dark felt of night.
I have wrapped shadowy limbs
ensnared you in slender reeds
of wanting shattered on the sea
wall of silence.
In the dead of night
I feel you flowing through me
a soft breeze of whispers and I
confess that I have not forgotten
my lost jewel of the sea.
Translation by Bernd at Neues vom Hutschi
Heartafire: In die Nacht
Eine weiche Welle wirble ich
um dich, einen fernen Diamanten,
gesetzt in den dunklen Samt der Nacht.
Ich umhüllte schattige Glieder,
umwand dich in schlankem Schilf,
ein Wunsch, auf dem Meer zu zerschellen,
einer Mauer des Schweigens.
In der Totenstille der Nacht
fühle ich, wie du mich durchfließt,
ein weicher Hauch aus Flüstern, und ich
gestehe, dass ich es vergaß,
mein verlorenes Juwel des Meeres.
you bloom in my heart,
your touch an elusive memory
on my skin.
In dreams I belly dance in copper deserts,
the wind of the Sahara whips the bronze scarf
around my waist.
Grasping your outstretched hand
I pull you into the oasis we no longer occupy.
You lock the doors behind you.
Feasting on nectarines and honeyed liqueur
you untie me with elegant fingers.
In the desert sand our erotic graffiti blows
out and away on a breeze below the pewter moon
and in its place imprints of lost lovers.
The banks of the river are still ,
there is nothing left but the shells of cicadas.
We once fixed our canoe to the grassy paddock
before it succumbed to cracked earth and dry leaves.
The sun beats down on sophistry and lies burn
bright with neon.
Escape into flowering fields of poems
that begin at dawn.
Grow drunk on sunsets and the
emerald grass below a mossy tree.
Surrender to a reverie yet to be created.
” It is foolish for women to pretend they are equal to men, they are far superior and always have been. Whatever you give a woman she will make greater. If you give her sperm , she will give you a baby. If you give her a house, she will give to you a home. Give her groceries, she will make for you a meal. Give her a smile…she will give you her heart”.
Happy Women’s Day ladies ❤️️