Kiss of Fire

How long have I been waiting for you?
Feels almost like a lifetime. Perhaps it was.
So many moonlit nights and desperate dreams
and all those intricate songs my heart made up!
I have lost some of them many years ago.

Life, the ever effervescent, loving mother
she took me through desert winds, spring flowers
and winter blues. Through it all, I always saw you.
So much pain, so many scars and so much beauty
but I am here now... in this moment, in your arms
on a dimly lit staircase in San Francisco
and the world is starting to make sense to me.

Two hearts entangled in a sensual dance
to the beautiful rhythm of twinkling constellations.
A fire burns brightly and radiates across the universe
and I close my eyes and let myself fly far away.
Because I know one thing. I shall always find you
by the warm glow of your hot heart! 

The One Who Is Chasing His Own Shadow

Be careful what you wish for, she said with a smile
her eyes shone with delight, wisdom and love.
I found her in the usual place; under the big oak tree
overlooking the green valley, silently shimmering
in the golden light breaking over the horizon.

I have always chased shadows and she knew it
and she even knew what I would say if she argued.
Mystery and mystic have always ruled my kind
and meaningful silences move my inner core.
There is immense beauty, pleasure, pain and loss
within these shadows and they know how to play
the strings of a heart so fragile and vulnerable
but a heart with scars is so much more beautiful
and I want to die with a heart full of scars. 

Mango Tree

It was midnight when he woke up from a dream.
In the stillness of night he heard his own heart beat
full of longing, pain and a desire he could not name.
He sat up and gazed out of his bedroom window.
The eaves of the house were dripping moonlight
the world outside appeared in a delicate stupor
and shadows floated gently in and out of his thoughts.

There was a time when her laughter fluttered lightly
and filled the house with delightful moonbeams
that broke into pearls and they danced everywhere.
Soft, cool slivery smoothness of her mouth..
he loved her smile but quite never possessed it.
Many things made her smile and he always stared
at the way her lips curled into a beautiful moonflower.

His right hand felt the emptiness close to his heart
he picked up the conch shell on the night table
and put it to his ear. The ocean spoke to him.
He walked out into the garden and picked up a shovel
and started digging a hole right outside his window.
He was going to plant a mango tree in his yard
beneath the shadows of the watchful volcano.

For Words

I am mostly sad for the words
not because they are unspoken
but because they are; so freely
uttered with beautiful abandon.

Spoken from the realm of thought
they morph into weightless forms.
Vacuous, they float like feathers
casting silvery, slippery shadows
like ghosts in abandoned rooms.

But unspoken words? They are different.
They are made of earth and water
you hear them only if you are careful
like the faint chimes in a gentle wind.
Spoken from the depths of the soul

they are made of melancholic beauty

you feel them only if you are poetic.

The Man Wearing A Red Shirt

I see him silhouetted against the cool gray dawn of the city
on a street full of rich houses protected by huge iron gates
forbidding and frightening; the wealth must feel alien to him.
He is leaning against a tree with his shoulders drawn back
his red cotton shirt has the texture like that of artificial flowers
his eyes are distant and confused like he woke up in a dream.

For a second, I imagine him in his homeland on a morning like this
he is sitting outside, under the flowering almond tree in his courtyard
his children are running around and one of them shrieks in delight
while his wife is hunched over the wood stove and the dog by her side.
The smoke obscures the scene for me, protecting their private moment.

I feel my heart ache violently like I am experiencing a quake.
Is this compassion? Empathy? I feel the beauty of my heart.
I look at him and I decide to carry that face in my memory
I pray for him and his unborn great grand children
and I offer solemn, beautiful tears to mother earth.
May he find peace, beauty and safety for him and his family!

Selfish Lover

He slipped out of the room before dawn
while I lay in bed lost in a beautiful fog
clad in pure nakedness and vulnerability
caressing seductive thoughts and verses
and soft kisses linger in the gray shadows.

I do not know when or why he arrives
but his charm is irresistible; so are his stories.
He does not ask permission but forces his way
into the deepest crevices of the subconscious.
There, he finds the subliminal and forbidden
and then he invites me to dance with him.

A slow, dangerous tryst at the edges of madness
where a fierce desire conjures up words and metaphors.
They arrive on winged white horses in chaotic order
a blue fire ignites and burns. It burns long and slow.
And then it happens. A streak of light flashes through
and the words and songs fall in their rightful places.
He leaves as quietly and forcefully as he arrives.
I am left wanting more but the bliss of his love is brief
I don't even know him but is there reason to know?

On A Summer Night

The jasmines look up at the sultry moon and smile
their luscious scent wafts in on the silky breeze
embracing me gently, kissing my bare shoulders
and the world dances the sensual dance of desire
in beautiful, graceful moves and delicate swirls
dreaming of destruction and creation within it.

The heavy moon hangs in the arms of a cloud
the ocean shimmers in silent, silvery waves
I light the lamps of clay with fragrant oil
and hang them on grass blades along the banks
I look for your footsteps on abandoned paths
and scatter flowers, songs and dreams along them.