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This lilting night
in a world still trembling,
streets sag with silence,
the hush tastes of smoke.

A crow cuts low,
black wing against orange,
leans into the wind,
folds, veers.

Above the trees,
the sky wears a copper bruise,
clouds thick as wool,
the light already retreating.

Air carries the edge of change-
sharp as bitten tin,
wet as stone on the tongue.

All sound brittle:
screen door whining,
tires on gravel,
a match struck to nothing.

your page turning,
the small sigh after,
your breath, mine,
keeping time with the dark.
"where love is the petal of a rose"

i wondered where death took life and
life took death. life threw itself into  
the daylight forgot the petticoats of the day
and her ambers burnt to the greys of the sun.  
i couldn't melt before her or she before me
but she ran and i loved to run with her.
death was life without the ghosts of sorrow
and life was death in its impenetrable dreams,
i was swallowed up by the arrival of summer and
i died at her feet, i died
and i lived, i fell and i stood up and life was a
thirst to survive and death was the blue ghost
and the oblivious rose. death was something
i would know tomorrow and life something i
could feel today, not sorry and not sad,
not empty or harnessed, free in its freedoms
open hearted, rain-scented. i opened my eyes
to the stars and fell at their feet,
i opened my eyes and the poetry flew
away like a sky-hungry bird.
from my book "and then i returned to you, you, my poet of the water" published 2013
 Sep 20
Agnes de Lods
I swallowed my saliva.
I closed my eyes
to say what had followed me
and walked before me
for many years.

Did you know those thin twigs
pierced the cells of my skin?
It didn’t hurt.
A miracle of creation,
a tree is growing inside me.

It sent out shoots into the blue above
and roots deep into the earth.
So many times I awakened to life.
Even more often,
I lost leaves, leaving them behind
like worn-out words
and sweet pauses of silence,
the calm after inconsolable sobbing.

Living tissue,
swollen with anger, burst again.
Oceans spilled.
Fire tried to burn joy and hope.
Watching as sensitivity curled,
like a frightened puppy.

I remember the child
and the grown woman.
I remember everything
except the words.

When the artificial lights go out,
you will see
how much strength you still carry,
how many living suns burn within you,
waiting to give warmth.

Even when everything screams
and your tissues pulse with fear,
still, you live
with your voice,
with your thoughts.
It is not the end.
It is night coming.
I do not say goodbye.
I say good night.
 Sep 15
irinia
I remember you as you were in the last autumn.
You were the grey beret and the still heart.
In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on.
And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.

Clasping my arms like a climbing plant
the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace.
Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.
Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.

I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off:
Grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house
Towards which my deep longings migrated
And my kisses fell, happy as embers.

Sky from a ship. Field from the hills:
Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!
Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.
Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.

by Pablo Neruda
Damocles' poem Still Now, I fall reminded me of this poem by Pablo.
I wonder if we love differently in different seasons
 Sep 14
Geof Spavins
Silent breath between heartbeats,  
Holding space for what cannot be spoken,  
Abiding in love that asks nothing in return,  
Light that lingers even in shadow,  
Open hands, open heart, open sky,  
Mirrored souls meeting in peace.
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