Our meeting

This needs more work but I don't have time and wanted to post it before I left. They are few and far between but when inspiration comes it's easy to write.

I close my eyes as your lips meet my forehead,

the crease carved out by months of troubled thoughts and tension disappears with a healing kiss.

My body relaxes wrapped around yours as if it to prevent you from leaving again.

The angst of waiting drifts away to the back of my mind, archived

with the rest of unwanted memories.

Our eyes are set in a mirror image of one another, neither wavering for the sun,

we need to see each other like this, face to face, so that our bodies comprehend that this is real, we are here together staring at one another.

We collect every detail of the others’ eyes like postcards from a treasured holiday; lashes, eyebrows, pupils, the colours,

they are dazzled into paralysis with only the flicker of an open and close to break the stare.

We breathe each other in, our senses finally satisfied to find the familiar smell of attraction,

you kiss my neck and your body stirs after a six month slumber woken by the sweet smell of my perfume.

Now I turn to you.

I bless each of your eyes with a kiss as if to seal the new memories of my presence into your consciousness,

My fingers settle in your hair, they are home.

Our foreheads lock together as if we’ve been transported back to Xela’s dance floors,

we stand there in this practiced embrace for an indefinable amount of time-

we are no longer counting, time is on our side at last.

We take a moment to enjoy the closeness of our beings,

reunited once again as they should be, if only for a little while.

Lady of Miracles

Since you walked out on me
I’m getting lovelier by the hour.
I glow like a corpse in the dark.
No one sees how round and sharp
my eyes have grown
how my carcass looks like a glass urn,
how I hold up things in the rags of my hands,
the way I can stand though crippled by lust.
No, there’s just your cruelty circling
my head like a bright rotting halo.

saboreando las palabras de Matul como si fuera miel en mi boco. Es poesia para el alma, para la vida.

you can't make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that 

Warsan Shire

All you who sleep tonight

All you who sleep tonight
Far from the ones you love,
No hand to left or right
And emptiness above -

Know that you aren't alone
The whole world shares your tears,
Some for two nights or one,
And some for all their years. 

When Someone Goes Away Everything That’s Been Done Comes Back

In the embrace on the corner you will recognize
someone’s going away somewhere. It’s always so.
I live between two truths
like a neon light trembling in
an empty hall. My heart collects
more and more people, since they’re not here anymore.
It’s always so. One fourth of our waking hours
is spent in blinking. We forget
things even before we lose them –
the calligraphy notebook, for instance.
Nothing’s ever new. The bus
seat is always warm.
Last words are carried over
like oblique buckets to an ordinary summer fire.
The same will happen all over again tomorrow—
the face, before it vanishes from the photo,
will lose the wrinkles. When someone goes away
everything that’s been done comes back.

Nikola Madzirov 

Shoulders

A man crosses the street in rain,
stepping gently, looking two times north and south,
because his son is asleep on his shoulder.

No car must splash him.
No car drive too near to his shadow.

This man carries the world's most sensitive cargo
but he's not marked.
Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE,
HANDLE WITH CARE.

His ear fills up with breathing.
He hears the hum of a boy's dream
deep inside him.

We're not going to be able
to live in this world
if we're not willing to do what he's doing
with one another.

The road will only be wide.
The rain will never stop falling. 

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
   If this be error and upon me proved,
   I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 

Piano

Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me; 
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see 
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings 
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.
In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.
So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.

The sun has come out
The mists have gone
We see in the distance
Our long way home

I was yours to love
And you were always mine
We have belonged together
In and out of time

To dare to love deeply
And risk everything
For the good thing

Continue

Tercer poema de ausencia

Tú has escondido la luz en alguna parte
y me niegas el retorno,
sé que esta oscuridad no es cierta
porque antes de mis manos volaban las luciérnagas,
y yo te buscaba
y tú eras tú
y éramos unos ojos
en un mismo lecho
y nadie de nosotros pensaba en el eclipse,
pero nos hicimos fríos y conocidos
y la noche se hizo inaccesible
para bajarla juntos.
Tú has escondido la luz en alguna parte,
la has plantado en otros ojos,
porque desde que ya no existes
nada de lo que está junto a mí amanece.

Homero Aridjis

Te amo ahí contra el muro destruido

Te amo ahí contra el muro destruido
contra la ciudad y contra el sol y contra el viento
contra lo otro que yo amo y se ha quedado
como un guerrero entrampado en los recuerdos

Te amo contra tus ojos que se apagan
y sufren adentro esta superficie vana
y sospechan venganzas
y muertes por desolación o por fastidio

Te amo más allá de puertas y esquinas
de trenes que se han ido sin llevarnos
de amigos que se hundieron ascendiendo
ventanas periódicas y estrellas

Te amo contra tu alegría y tu regreso
contra el dolor que astilla tus seres más amados
contra lo que puede ser y lo que fuiste
ceremonia nocturna por lugares fantásticos

Te amo contra la noche y el verano
contra la luz y tu semejanza silenciosa
contra el mar y septiembre y los labios que te expresan
contra el humo invencible de los muertos.

A Bare Bedroom With Two People.

Twenty and afraid of silences,

I chat mindless babble

when scanning your book-shelves
for clues of you – a comment
for every single one.

I sip rum laced with ginger ale;
we will sit and drink, wait until
one half gives in.

This isn’t when the room stands still,
or when music starts as time stops.

“Do you want another drink?” he asks,
and removes the glass from my hand.

These are those invisible drinking cords
that fasten us together after
a few too many.

I don’t know you that well –
so I sit and talk.

I play with one button on my cardigan
that’s come away, and hangs there
on its thread -

http://applesandsnakes.org/page/84/Performance+poets/462

Spoken word, London style.

But nothing is so strange when one is in love (and what was this except being in love?) as the complete indifference of other people.

Woolfe

A DAY THAT BROKE UP YOUR MIND while turning the corners of your book of abstract forgiving. It’s fortunate that knowledge can be summed so that it can be regretted in one fell swoop, much like giving undue props to a signal to crashland without warning.