My Poems

Leaving

I'm tired of bending to your shape
And matching the sheets to your mood
The black satin is so smooth
And slips me off and down - here I end
Unexpected and improbable like snow in July
My frosty fingers trying to hold on
While I'm slipping down, slipping out of you -
The last thing to go is my eyes
Devouring you hungrily before they vanish
Over the edge of the bed -
Medieval monks falling over the edge of the world -
Passing the point of no return
So slowly and terribly - like death - and just as merciless.
And all I can say is "I'm sorry"
I have no breath for more.
My soul is an empty store
With open shelves, but devoid of goods,
Tree trunk with no roots, branches, bloom or fruit...
I'm slipping slowly away from you.

12-18-11
DQ

...
I'm turning in the wind -
My body is a kite, my hands are wings
They take a swing - out and in
As the wind goes I go with it.

I follow the wind - taking it in
My lungs are full with wind
I let it under mt skin -
For the wind is my kin.

Because I'm a wind -soul
And consort with the airy stream
That crosses the space - in a race
With time - hand in hand, face in face.

With the wind I am swirled and bent
Part of the swirl, turn of the turn, with no rest -
Wind is my guest - in my body - the kite
I am his test - I measure his might

In my thighs - the Wind and I -
Fly in the Sky.
Right now.
On us don't spy.

12-10--11
SQ

I wrote this some years ago and set it to a simple minor guitar arrangement, every stanza the same; "/" is one down, "V/" up-down-up:

Ballad of the Fall

Am //  /    V /      /   /   Dm V/V/V/
There is blood in my footsteps
Dm //  /    V/      /   /   Am V/V/V/
There is wind in my wings
Am //  /    V/      /   /    E7 V/V/V/
There is dust on my eyelids
E7/  /  /V   /    /    /   Am V/V/V/   /// 3 separate down arpeggios.
It's getting harder to breathe.

Long and stony was the road
Damp and dark was the night
Desp'rate and cruel the battle
That took me out of the light.

Now my last thought is for you, dear
Remember the way that I was
When gentle eve comes upon you
Feel my embrace in the dark.

I see the ground is near
I know the time will not stop
My last heartbeat is for you, dear
As long as a heartbeat can last.
DQ







Edited by Don Quixote - 06-Feb-2012 at 21:10

Elemental

Al elements in us together bind -
That's why we can never stay in calm
For ice and fire, storm and dust can't lay
Nor rain and waves can down quiet stay.

All elements play in a a humans' make
The dust we are -  star light in static lake -
That weaves in our nerves and skin and hearts
That look from the windows of our eyes.

All elements in us to be are found
All elements that in each other are bound
So we've no choice, but inside out be bend on
And being in our core most elemental.

For every cube of ice - a brand of fire
For every ray of light - dark shade to bind her
For every stone there is a feather
Dry desert ocean covers all together.

For every thought in me there is one in you
For every part of me - one in you too,
And so the time will ride and nature stir
Why all the elements in us take turns.

DQ

Thank you, Drusin! I appreciate the feedback!

To paint and sculpt is to write poetry with shapes and colors, and to write poems is to paint worlds with words...so in a sense we are brothers-in-arms...


Dawn

A miracle in front of me happens everyday
The Sun is born in bloody rays
From sky and clouds, air and time
They push the sun before my eyes
Convulsing sky and cloud folded
Like woman's legs - to bring life forth
A scream is heard with voice of wind
And one more day is born to be.

One more day - one more try.
One more shot, in passing by
With hundreds hello-s and good-byes
With hundreds choices, far and nigh.
With hundreds trials, hundred touches
Losses, gains, fights and rushes

Until the day exhausted dies -
A spent wizard in disguise.
Wasted, tired, turned to dust
From billions peoples' intense rush.

Every Day by Blood Dawn is born
It costs her mush to bring it forth.
And I know what the wind is screaming
While the day is slowly appearing

Like woman in a labor toll -
"Don't dare to waste my Day!
For it is paid in blood and pain!" -
Nature cries her will to all.
DQ




Edited by Don Quixote - 15-Feb-2012 at 21:22

Originally posted by Drusin sisters actually

Sisters-in-arms sound good too
This picture is called "Samodivi", by Plamen Stoev, a Bulgarian artist


Samodivi are magical women with aethereal bodies who live in the dark forests of Stara Planina /Old Mountain, or as better known with it's Turkish name 'the Balkan/. They protect the waters and command them, and one can see them at night, dancing away with the time

Dancing through the time and space
While the rest of human race
Sleeps in their big soft beds
Dancing - dancing - fire-led
Sparkling water, dancing dance
and behind their closed eyes
One can see the time does pass...
In a minute - years goes
In an hour - century slows
They command the time in theirs
Wild long curls, and it is theirs -
Moiras are their mothers called -
Samodivas - know them all -
They were given by the Fates
Gift that no one dares to test -
Mistresses of forests dark,
They spin leaves and heal tree bark
And to every forest creature
They apply one dose of each of -
Touch of feather, for body-lightness,
Bite of apple - for long lives is,
Twig of willow - grace to all -
In the body and the soul,
An caress for every Bug,
And a kiss for every Slug,
And a hug for every Deer,
Soft caress for all that're near -
Samodivas - Sisters Wild,
Sisters Tender to every child
Of Mother-Nature, and to all
That are subject to mortal thrall.

But to humans that seek to harm them,
They are cunning to abandon -
In the dance they are seducing,
In a trance they are confusing,
So a man who wants a piece
Find himself into their midst -
In the middle of the dance,
In the eye of stormy trance,
Round him soft bodies glow
Like clouds changing their goal -
Graceful feet the soil just touch -
Gut the speed - it goes too much -
They are dancing in a circle,
They are sliding, merging, soothful
Hands the air touch and kiss -
And the man is all amiss -
He doesn't know where to look -
He tries to keep up his tired foot -
To exhaustion he spins himself -
Terror comes to him - and end...

And the Samodivas dance
In their so eternal trance
Whirling, hopping, sliding, gliding -
Air spins and water rising -
Life and Death the dance is called...
They are the ones to know it all -
Dancing - through the Time and Space
Their endless graceful Race.
DQ



Edited by Don Quixote - 15-Feb-2012 at 22:51

Freud and I

Freud  sucks.
Worse, he is a liar.
He tempts us with promises to reveal to us something magical and awful and primordial,
Something connected to the ancient spasm of the orgasm and the swirling vortex of the hurricane,
Something old and dusty and smoky we think we lost
While educating ourselves to utmost boredom between the cold sheets
And the metal coverings of our computers and behind the steering wheels of our cars.
He lures us with the sly smile of the Persian Magi and holds our hands and says that he will take us
Deep into ourselves, in the places where we don't dare to go anymore, oh,
The places we fear will take us where we want to go,
In the deep forests under the shady bushes where we lay on the grass and bite into the sky
And the ants are bringing us flower dust and the leaves are kissing our cheeks,
And on bare knees we crawl out of ourselves and reunite ourselves with
The thousands forgotten pasts and never realized futures
The places we in our thinking think we thought when we dreamed
Of free tornadoes and pulsating pulses of the pulsing blood that pulses in our veins...
The animals and gods and driads we forgot we are the passion and
The pain we are afraid we will find if we look in ourselves...

And leaves us a pornographic record of unsatisfied and bored middle class housewives
Living in boring apartments in rainy Vienna,
Pouring their denied pleasures in the prosaic images of candles and doors and fallen teeth.
Freud sucks. Worse, he is a thief. He steals our treasures and leaves us with junk.
Freud sucks.
Junk.
Oct. 2010.
DQ


Edited by Don Quixote - 20-Feb-2012 at 19:37

Well, I don't think he was dirty per se, it's more that he worked with people with mental problems and assumed that the same mental processes are part of everyone's life. Mistakes like that are normal for most pioneers in any field. As for the cocaine - the docs in his time thought is was a beneficial drug.
Anyway, there was  a time in my life when I thought that he was to open the secrets of the human psyche to me - so I read him for years, and finally got disappointed - the poem reflect that personal disappointment.

This is another old one which I didn't post here before:

What is Love

Jan 2011
DQ


Edited by Don Quixote - 20-Feb-2012 at 19:39