“A Loosening” The Sunday Whirl #178

The heart and the miner have crossed
off the cliff, they dive united within love’s expression
an anxiety known only in darkness.

Vaporous as the city after rain
loosening torment.
The air lifts me higher;
silenced with no words left to say.

Day birds sing ceremony, chirping in the afternoon
basking in green times established
between creation and dream’s wonder.

The heart’s fruit sliding through my hands
like small starlight from another light.
An image once quiet living in the water
can rise up forever in memory.

Glare cannot hide the golden thread of my intertwined fingers
when the swan’s in the sun not flying.

An Owl’s Cry The Sunday Whirl #177

A juxtaposition of life,
men get war’s grief.

When horses aren’t enough for the dismal
display of meandering bullets shearing flesh;
fetish is exposed thrusting
a blade into the mother of life.

Roses won’t grow ‘tween you and I
where we plant the imperfection.

Which spot?
How many locks?
Meandering one’s self.
The screeching owl never visits anymore.

“The Stuttering Sea” The Sunday Whirl #176

It is there I see you — my dreams drown in my throat.
Without a note, your sound so final birds fly away.
I am worried. But you say not to be.
And the stars haven’t shone since you left.

I love you against night and summer,
against light and quiet,
against the stuttering sea
as September’s lips express themselves
through an invincible smoke of death,
I love you with happiness
roaming rift within my flight.

In your absence I’ve learnt so much;
I listen to time, where surprises sustain
with the language of kindness.
I know smiles that once existed
within these walls cannot be replaced.

At length in dazzling daydreams you watch me,
we face each other in restraint.
Still my bones live within light
over the gradual loss of decades,
because you won’t turn your eyes to look away
from the underworld of ravings and calculations.
These are dreams of blue sorcery’s pain
and men who hover in silent absence in the pantheon.

In the morning I’ll say I looked at the night
while you noticed my foreign body
and submitted two curious dreams to contact the wind.

“Kooks” The Sunday Whirl #174

Within his heart lies a demimonde spirit awaiting release.
Never in the right place, his soul is an asylum
which needs to be reborn.

When he flies high
surely there is a grand hard landing.
Where abomination’s art flies from canvases
leaving dark rites of rituals spreading
through the room.

One can never bare their soul completely:
So, she lights the gray away with candles
saying prayers for transgressions,
pledging allegiance to the sparkling oranges
growing on shelves in cylindrical swirls
of the bitter and sweet.

Hoping for the day when she can be herself
for those she loves.

“The Poet’s Song” The Sunday Whirl #172

Only love and pain
have dust remaining on this mystery.
It’s a young woman’s song;
prepubescent and concentrated.

The poet delivers
an intimate universal feeling,
I understand it
when I look at the
greenery of the mountainside,
and happiness wraps itself around me.

There’s bliss within the sounding sun;
flamboyant, flared, falling,
pointing toward an appetite for living.
Though at times jumbled
and tired, I continue with love
for being alive,
at last I can fly.

“A Cherished Life” The Sunday Whirl #170

There’s always a light surrounding me,
a shimmer of life which I receive
with passion and pleasure.
A magic that resides in living
through this beautiful hum.

While passing a stranger on
a narrow walkway. We smile
saying hello, thriving within different
special spaces. Each our own
yet somehow we are one.

I’m thankful for every breath I’m given,
for the sunrise I’m gifted with.
Words spoken to me
by family and friends — reassuring,
this is mine and I cherish it.

“A Beautiful Light” The Sunday Whirl #169

If you touch another person’s hand
and your heart explodes eclipsing
into a million stars. Take heed:
they’re part of you

They are the sun upon you when
first waking and the rain that cools
and quenches your face and throat.

If you look in a friend’s eyes
and feel their pain. Take heed:
they need your love, give them honesty
and hold them tight

They are the wind on your skin while
walking alone down the street,
and the enveloping dreams of night.

In the shadowy hallways of life
exists a beautiful light meant to be honoured.
Hold on to this, like today’s kiss on the cheek.

A Glow and A Dream #167 The Sunday Whirl

I approach doorways in dreams,
but they never open, because keys
crumble in my hand.

I’m a grain so misunderstood,
in single lines on a hard surface,
where my love levels out confusion’s sand
and I scratch at the sad unknown.

When glints recover me and
I attach myself to the now
as you would want me to.
I am a sketch between the gaps,
in a transforming phase, so I
may be present for me and those I love.

“Rainbows and Stars” The Sunday Whirl #166

Drawing rainbows, the tarot’s dreadful tune
plays its cards, counting coloured dreams
brought forth through times of sorrow.
There are unicorns and steep stairs
to the other side of tomorrow.

I am seduced by these stars,
levitating above me, as if
wanting to kiss me on the cheek.
Oh creator’s night, may I dance beneath you?

Overlooking this city I have come to love.
I twirl and bow; thinking of you,
your smile and heart that once was so close to mine.
Counting toward my penny-tone morning
´til my plague is lifted.

“I Taste Every Raindrop” The Sunday Whirl #165

Daytime brings porcelain,
out of my back pocket
comes fortune.

You tell me:
Read a good book,
drink a nice coffee,
eat the cake slowly.
Life is now.