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| Râmbeț Ioana |
A Book I'll Never Write or Publish
1.
Where does the dome of love dwell?
maybe in the wide stretch of the universe
or in the shadow of the moonlight fading
I know I can't see the dense expanse
or the rain that still falls in London.
Where does the dome of love dwell?
maybe in the wide stretch of the universe
or in the shadow of the moonlight fading
I know I can't see the dense expanse
or the rain that still falls in London.
2.
I've never had an explanation of many things
seen or unseen realms, beyond life's portal
nor the workings whether reality or fiction
but I see the light and the darkness.
3.
life and love have reached for me in the darkness
and in silver threads of daylight with unseen fingers
I was carried away on the wings of a mysterious bird
a creature unafraid of the darkness or the burning day.
4.
I've reached my hand out to trace it, only to find emptiness
such a great void to search with tired eyes and deaf ears
but the touch of his hand upon my breast and inner thigh
awakened me to the fire in my heart and my belly.
5.
now there is understanding in the visions of my dreams
when fingerprints and footprints fade from my mind
maybe but for the slightest moment of an hour I felt it,
and in that flash of morning light, I knew it was the scent,
of roses and I was tempted to follow after such things.
6.
I can say that there are things spoken and still unknown
things wished for and things that are dreaded in the head
as the tail of the stars and the moonlight, the swift arrow
of the sun as it hovers and burns through our dreams.
7.
I can say in the latter part of life I've found what love is -
of what is sung in love songs, the painful joy as it rumbles
like thunder burning within my soul to rise like the moon
I know that my chapters will end soon as I carry these flowers away.
8.
both living and dying are both sisters of love and sorrow
each has its own bouquet of flowers set as a jewel
in a crown
my arms are full of flowers and trailing stars, such are these
written and unwritten chapters that are chained to my hands
and stained with the dreams I've dreamed, sins I've sinned.
I've never had an explanation of many things
seen or unseen realms, beyond life's portal
nor the workings whether reality or fiction
but I see the light and the darkness.
3.
life and love have reached for me in the darkness
and in silver threads of daylight with unseen fingers
I was carried away on the wings of a mysterious bird
a creature unafraid of the darkness or the burning day.
4.
I've reached my hand out to trace it, only to find emptiness
such a great void to search with tired eyes and deaf ears
but the touch of his hand upon my breast and inner thigh
awakened me to the fire in my heart and my belly.
5.
now there is understanding in the visions of my dreams
when fingerprints and footprints fade from my mind
maybe but for the slightest moment of an hour I felt it,
and in that flash of morning light, I knew it was the scent,
of roses and I was tempted to follow after such things.
6.
I can say that there are things spoken and still unknown
things wished for and things that are dreaded in the head
as the tail of the stars and the moonlight, the swift arrow
of the sun as it hovers and burns through our dreams.
7.
I can say in the latter part of life I've found what love is -
of what is sung in love songs, the painful joy as it rumbles
like thunder burning within my soul to rise like the moon
I know that my chapters will end soon as I carry these flowers away.
8.
both living and dying are both sisters of love and sorrow
each has its own bouquet of flowers set as a jewel
in a crown
my arms are full of flowers and trailing stars, such are these
written and unwritten chapters that are chained to my hands
and stained with the dreams I've dreamed, sins I've sinned.
9.
I write these verses to myself to read and to remember
for such is the memory of a woman walking a marathon
looking into the sky for a star or a doorway framing
the twilight
bear with me in this chapter of my book with its
long verses
I write these verses to myself to read and to remember
for such is the memory of a woman walking a marathon
looking into the sky for a star or a doorway framing
the twilight
bear with me in this chapter of my book with its
long verses
for my mind meddles in memories of fire and thunder
of the touch I felt when love found me and it grew
like a star.
10.
time is sometimes a trial we must endure like fire
in the sky
I believe it still rains in London and Paris is so far
from my flesh
and as for now I still feel his hand on my yearning
breast and thigh
while the scent of the night's dew falls in the last hour
of twilight
I still remember being burnt and binding my wounds
in sorrow and joy.
of the touch I felt when love found me and it grew
like a star.
10.
time is sometimes a trial we must endure like fire
in the sky
I believe it still rains in London and Paris is so far
from my flesh
and as for now I still feel his hand on my yearning
breast and thigh
while the scent of the night's dew falls in the last hour
of twilight
I still remember being burnt and binding my wounds
in sorrow and joy.
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| Myrtle Thomas |
Myrtle Thomas lives in America and is retired from a large manufacturing company. She has been published in several poetry journals and magazines, and is a member of ALLpoetry.com, writing under the pen name Bluebird74. Myrtle self-published four poetry books and also has a new chapbook on Amazon (In My Land of Dreams). She uses poetry as a form of medicine to heal past wounds; poetry has been a companion to her for over thirty years.
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