Somewhere, There and Anywhere
are decent proposals of good-byes.
Uttered in different keys
Of Wisdom, Hope and Grief,
Launched in midnight dreams
and finished in the afternoons.
…That whispers in the wind
Cannot bear
in the prime of spring…
…Sending smells of Trust…
is autumn’s proposal of
Hello…
Written on the 16th June 2015
In picture – Corfu in October by the Author
Paragon of hope
Burning sorrow
of the morrow
Is the secret
of Tomorrow.
Published on Blue Insights, a Medium publication.
https://medium.com/blueinsight/tomorrow-93113ee374a9
Art – Guido Borelli. Source: Pinterest
Love drips
out of my lines.
There is not ink
But sweetness and joy
protruding in small afternoons
befuddled
in glimpses of light
dancing on leaves
and ruby flowers…
When skies glance
at the coolness of moonshine
and butterflies kept in a dream
smile till dawn,
Do not forget…
As long as you feel
the brush of the evening’s wind
coiling like a wild animal
You are as young as
the new roses this year…
Art – Dani Soon – Source – https://dionisopunk.com/
Steal the sun
With gilded sincerity.
Place it in your heart
with silvery fingers.
Touch lives with the same warmth.
If you do not have money to decorate your life with precious artifacts, decorate life with precious deeds and meaningful words. Words that speak to hearts and make them see the precious artifacts they are.
©Iulia Halatz
Art – Serena Malyon,The Veil of Night
Also featured at Medium.com.
I have the sun
and the full moons,
The air and the water
blue.
The memories of
the sweet hills
and the crescent moon
keeping the vineyards
in bloom.
For my love
I would give
My hills
wrapped in balmy
vine flowers.
“If I can stop a heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain”. – Emily Dickinson
© Iulia Halatz
Art – Jo March (British, b.1962)
Poetry featured at Medium/Blue Insights publication.
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
According to a 19th century legend, the Truth and the Lie meet one day. The Lie says to the Truth: “It’s a marvellous day today”! The Truth looks up to the skies and sighs, for the day was really beautiful. They spend a lot of time together, ultimately arriving beside a well. The Lie tells the Truth: “The water is very nice, let’s take a bath together!” The Truth, once again suspicious, tests the water and discovers that it indeed is very nice. They undress and start bathing. Suddenly, the Lie comes out of the water, puts on the clothes of the Truth and runs away. The furious Truth comes out of the well and runs everywhere to find the Lie and to get her clothes back. The World, seeing the Truth naked, turns its gaze away, with contempt and rage.
The poor Truth returns to the well and disappears forever, hiding therein, its shame. Since then, the Lie travels around the world, dressed as the Truth, satisfying the needs of society, because, the World, in any case, harbours no wish at all to meet the naked Truth.
Art by Michael Cheval.
