Tag Archives: Iron Tales at Blue insights

Gentle Giant at Medium

As always, I am humbled to be a Medium writer:

You are the mellow vines
ripe at the touch of Autumn.

You are a blue alphabet
falling from the sky…

You are the amber leaves
lured in the sleep of Winter.

You are the macadamized trance
of flowers
when Spring is climbing up the trees.

If you are not the fragrant moon
to bread stars from shimmering flour
You are the color of fire
that burns in everything you see.

© Iulia Halatz

https://medium.com/blueinsight/gentle-giant-1f3affedddeb

Persephone’s Dusk at Medium.com

As always, I am humbled and honored to be a Medium writer.

Persephone’s Dusk

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 – Gervasio Gallardo

Where One Is Decimal the Other Is Reciprocal

As always, I am humbled and honored to be a Medium writer.

https://medium.com/blueinsight/where-one-is-decimal-the-other-is-reciprocal-2d385a3af2b3

Please find my blog, Iron Tales, at Blog Novels.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash.

Buried moon at Medium.com

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!

© Iulia Halatz

Published at Medium.com.

Art – Buried moon by Edmund Dulac.

Writers of the Imperfect Maps

Medium.com has published my “Writers of the Imperfect Maps” in the Blue Insights publication.
https://medium.com/blueinsight/writers-of-the-imperfect-maps-276a2ce16869

The naiads have splurged with roses.
Swirls of scented air hover above their clearings.
Without petals and stars they cannot dwell
beneath the glass shine…
Day dreamers see their unfading beauty
in the sands of the fountains.

Their love is
imprecise
built on a foundation
of unicorn-green grass…

Their skeleton
is composed of myrtle and oleander
and moss-covered lungs
heave along with waters driven
by tide…

Their flesh is irrational atoms
that laugh the blood
and rhythm of life
in the veins
that sing the helplessness blues.
White hymnal doors
flung open
on Midsummer’s Eve
at the harvest of ripe and lofty words
and lady’s bedstraw
they found
in the flicker of buried treasures.

Their words shield
the scent of a tuberose
and shelter
the spoils of the evening.

They sing in the wind
“Leave this war with me!”
It is never too late
nor too soon
to wager
on a tear.

These are no Great Songs of indifference
They are the Great Songs of out-of-time
and out-of-life
that light
this new dominion
which is the old…

29 petals of all the flowers
in the world
line up to write a map
draw sounds and borders
in as many secret alphabets
as breathing proof that

Language is not like the sun,
heating and scorching
but like the moon
keeping secrets
and the arcane magic of the night
throwing stars
in the lilacs’ claws
till dawn.

Words are lamps
they shimmer in the vilest of places.
They make dreams
out of particles and matter.
The words in the
29 secret alphabets
burn for all.

© Iulia Halatz

Lilian Gish, 1929 — photo by Cecil Beaton

Iron Tales at Blue Insights

I am honored and proud to share my Iron Tales at Blue Insights, under ‘Blog Novels’, a section for writers who have published books they want to share on Medium.

The first Iron Tale is “What can I give you?” published in Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective, available on Amazon.

What can I give you? I am the blue
as imagined by a blind
and the roots of knowledge
as watered by a scholar.

I am the yellow
wind and the mauve
respond of light
perched
in the ubiquitous trees
tethered in the clouds
that barely scratch
the sky.

I am the green
storm and colorless waves
that wished upon a mountain
to break water in tryst
with the sun.

Not by blindness
we can reorder colors
but by the painting of a soul
in a moment tender
as the liquid moon
is quivering above the forest.

© Iulia Halatz

https://medium.com/blueinsight/what-can-i-give-you-275cb1c6351a