Tag Archives: my poems

Song of Spring

Written for the Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective.

Spring is a princess
without voice
only fingers
to mix colors
in the rainbows.

She’s got a vessel
for the softest fragrance
pressed in archives
in the Library of Scent…
There are plums
the cherries
and the blooms of vines
escalating
on the earth’s shelves…

Anyone who writes down
to Spring
is simply wasting
a leaf of scent.

No one is ever so poor
as not to write up
music
to all the shades of Spring
and to the dancing stars
to give a gift
of chaos…

© Iulia Halatz

I am delighted that this poem was included in the Sudden Denouement Anthology Volume I. The anthology is now available on Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk.

If I cut a word in two – Iulia Halatz

My poem on Sudden Denouement:

https://suddendenouement.com/2018/06/11/if-i-cut-a-word-in-two-iulia-halatz/

I wouldn’t have lusted
for your limbs
softened with
iron syllables.

I wouldn’t have lusted
for your shiny dark eyes
like the sea
lit by two moons…

We could wake up
to what we were…

You
breathing the air of
another planet…
basking in an estranged sun…
When winds
herald the evening
the stirs are in the
dunes
and the communal
place of storms.

I
braved a lackless sea
for naught
My kisses tell you
of another small
and drifting planet
where water
falls from the sky
and blows away
the ink of dusky clouds.

The sands tug
at my feet
and quarrel like ghosts
dervishing
blindly in the whirlwinds….

There is a hole
in the world
where you stood
brazenly stealing
the burnishing silver
of two Moons.

Yet you continue
to hurtle constellations at me.
You fumbled for Orion
and you stumbled
as I inhabit
my spell-forged star
to enhance
blandly
the clear lights of greener planets.

Oh, how I miss my autumn roses!
They carry the pungent smell
of sea and decay
to your world of
liquid sands
and honey torpors.

My finitude and fragility
are yours
The heart you melted
drips down with
dews of late
that put the sands
forever in my soul.

I have a sieve
that sifts
grains from dusts.
They heat and burn
my skin
like thousand cerulean touches
that freed me
from the toils
of lingering moons.

I will love you
for a hundred years of Blue
and for the handsomest years
of Grey and sand Yellow
that will follow.

© Iulia Halatz

Art – Caroline Trentini by Sofia Sanchez and Mauro Mongiello.

I am delighted that five of my poems were included in the Sudden Denouement Anthology Volume I. The anthology is now available on Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk.

Buried moon

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!

 

(Reposting an old poem)

Art – Buried moon by Edmund Dulac.

September First

September First
is a burst
of clear touches of blue
and soft winds on dew
in crystal mornings
that warm to silent fires
holding trees in dire
and such lusty love-embrace

that they know no more
of Summer.

I decorate with an August sunset from my collection – one of the most beautiful, caught on the 30th.

The serpent slayer

She quit pretending she needs a hero.
She is her hero
Her own sun and stars.
She is her sunset above the sea
She is her moon in late twilights
She is her words making pools of smiles
For whom she adores.

She is the serpent slayer
and every day is a day of thunder and love.

 

Water serpents By Gustav Klimt

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Art – Water snakes by Gustav Klimt.

The night of last

The night of last
was as charmed as the lust
for balmy winds

awake in the fields,
betrothed with hills

loved by the mere
and the surreal moons

Touching you
with the fire of springs.

Rene Magritte

 

 

Art By Rene Magritte.

 

 

 

Lust = pleasure/inclination/desire

Betrothed= having promised to marry somebody

Mere = a pool or lake.

 

 

Harbour flare

Harbours are places for encounters
We go there often.
We play a game
Of looking at ships gliding
Through foreign scents and mists
and amiable far-aways…

Water is a place for
life and dreams.

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Painting: Harbour flare by John Atkinson Grimshawn.

Inspiration: Moby Dick by Herman Melville.