“Who are you?”
I asked.
I am a piece of heaven
that reveals the most
to ones in love…
They see the sea
and the tiptoeing stars
barely touching the milky lanes.
Under constellations
Their faces glitter
with words released
yet not spoken…
They are the children
of the stars…
that take away the meaning
of twilights and dawns.
The dust of stars
speaks more
than the sun.
Iulia Halatz
Corfiot Moon by the author
Featured at Medium.com/Blue Ingsights
The Awakening by Iulia Halatz
medium.com/@iuliahalatz
The song dreams along
with the fields
watered by the eyes
of the wettest dawn.
She feels empty
caught
in a web of stars
immenser than any sky
that ever sheltered Europe.
Her story is not written.
She lives in the not-knowing
Her mind crossed Rubicons
Scylla and Charybdis
are petrified
with
lyrics and dance….
She is all the things
She has ever loved:
scented wine,
the white and blue bustle
of spring
the forests dormant
under the scythed moon.
Her green thoughts
bear the celestial heavens
like so many miniature Atlases…
This world is strange
and under attack
of barbarous hearts
that have plundered
and seduced
bedazzled countries
and continents…
She is still not yours,
Still hiding in the
vapors of the tide…
Like any artist without an art form, she became dangerous. — Toni Morrison
Written for August Feminist Book Title Challenge at braveandrecklessblog.com.
https://medium.com/resistance-poetry/the-awakening-43058d4ff40e
Art by Salvador Dali.
“We should take power and strength from our stories.” Her published poems can be found in The Sudden Denouement Anthology Volume I.
She is featured at Sudden Denouement Literary Collective, Mytrendingstories.com, Spillwords.com, Medium.com.
Why can’t we
sleep with the Gods?
be with them
turn their thoughts to foam
touch and revere
their lapis lazuli skin
until myths flicker in the cave
and the earth booms at their voices
The rain from Olympus
is the fog in the valley.
Life is not all lovely thorns and screaming butterflies.
© Iulia Halatz
Art by Gervasio Gallardo.
Writing is
quieting the burns
from people’s thoughts and deeds
And dissolving
all knowledge
that this will
ever happen…
© Iulia Halatz
Art by Andrea Kowch.
Iron fairies
Never stoop to worry
At clever inventions
Of thoughts
Coming from up North
to hasten the revival of aloft
shimmer-like words
that shape and betray
the troth
between spiders and gossamers
to yarn
the magic of the moon above
the bounty of the greens in May
the pleasure of the fields to stay
till cobwebs sparkle with dews
and decay…
© Iulia Halatz
Art by Helen Flockhart.
My secret castle
lies in Spring
at the corner
of vernal vicious winds…
Surrounded by lilacs
and violets blue
Prolonged in the hue
of abstaining pink…
Faces and rivers
smile in the sun
Patience is nowhere to be found
as ethereal blooms
Expect the moons
to ignite from early
copper twilights…
Lilacs are the surreal kisses
of Spring
Clinging like stardust
to butterflies’ wings.
They color the dark
wink to the larks
And wait for the bees
to appease…
Written for and at the suggestion of Marie – mariewilliams53.wordpress.com.
Art by Sergey Tutunov.
Buried moon, buried moon
Who to talk about at noon
When dreams are plundered by light
And powdered in gold and charcoal dust.
Crescent fairies are sad in the rouse
and at falter to surmise
the scanty slumbering traces
that led stupors into trenches.
The owners of the light
Do not know its might
and the pleasure of the sun
to astound and burn above…
Buried moon, buried moon
I want you soon
As to play my feral dreams
around the all surviving tunes!
Art – Buried Moon by Edmund Dulac.