Tag Archives: poem

Morning mist

The mist that
covers my heart
is thick
numbing mornings
and evenings
with the sagacity
of a cubist artifact.

It comes in layers
clinging with fetid fingers
on to the gargoyles
of the old mansion
our love has become.

No surprise from
any shadow
No brush
with velveteen
vulnerable
acts of tenderness.

Dragons and starlings
seem nearer
in the dancey mists

Love is uncovered
in a smile
at first light…
Is that enough?

© Iulia Halatz

Photography art – Grace M.Ballentine – Morning Mist

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.

The Laughing Heart

“your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.”
Charles Bukowski, The Laughing Heart

Art by Thomas Cooper Gotch.

Self Addressed Stamp Envelope – Erich Michaels

Lettered feelings to the artist as a young man by the amazing Erich Michaels

…”I wrote a letter to that young wanderer
Using my address from that time
Across the top: Erich Michaels (adolescent)

In it I said:
Yes…she will break your heart, but…
Enjoy the ride
Also, don’t block out her name
She deserves better than that
That tattoo will be a regret
Not just because it’s needle and thread
Bottle of India ink, prison-chic
But because it doesn’t represent you…”

Read all imperfect feelings written in perfect words on A Global Divergent Literary Collective: suddendenouement.com/2018/08/03/self-addressed-stamp-envelope-erich-michaels

A list of wounds

We are all broken flowers
We have seen the moon smiling
The waves crashing
The shimmer and thunder of springs
The blazing lightning of pain
When regluing the chinks in our hearts
a hundredfold again…

We have seen the tremble of a leaf
in mid-November
When it falls
and lies defeated
like giant spiky stones
we shuffle our feet on
and bleed…

How do you heal a wound?
First you burn it
in agonizing awe
Then you stitch it
with words in threads
that last
more than the last
Spring

© Iulia Halatz

Art by Vladimir Kush.

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.

Thursday’s quote

“Light is the left hand of darkness
and darkness the right hand of light.
Two are one, life and death, lying
together like lovers in Kemmer,
like hands joined together,
like the end and the way.”
Ursula K. Le Guin (October 21, 1929 – January 22, 2018),
The Left Hand of Darkness

 

Art by Édouard Manet.

Happiness

…Happiness is the uncle you never
knew about, who flies a single-engine plane
onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes
into town, and inquires at every door
until he finds you asleep midafternoon
as you so often are during the unmerciful
hours of your despair. – Jane Kenyon

Happiness is immaculate
and wordless
Happiness is the fire person
Burning for your path
Lighting like the moon
dense and bright and alive
Hoovering on the alphabet blue
of the world
Uncovering a soul into desire
Pulling out a Love
that dissolves and finishes…

Happiness is the love
carved into the bark
that kills pitfalls and
feeds the unicorn-green grass.

Happiness is a father
that lived oceanless
for a daughter to grow
tied to the oceanside.

 

Art by Hansol Choe.

Divergent

“We’ve built a world where the only option is hubris. Where the future belongs to anyone willing to act like the gods of our myths.” – Seth Godin

When we strip away self-doubt and artifice we embrace the purity and freedom to feel and write as gods would do.
It is about running and battling with the beauty and the naïveté of the world at our side.
Freedom means courage…
Purity means courage…
Naïveté means courage…
Courage to strip away your soul and let it bloom before Spring is climbing up the trees.

Lately I have become part of a community that starts fires in a cold world, a community that grows blooming trees out of lackluster soil, that takes freedom, purity and courage to the other realm…There are many ways to say: “I love you”, many ways to say: “I am grieving”, many ways to say: “Thank you”.

I have found them all on A Global Divergent Literary Collective, where the Thank You’s, the Love You’s, the Miss You’s leave marks on shattered hearts and float towards our soul’s skin and pierce veil after veil to get to the truth. These are words that become warm at the reading…

I am humbled and honored that one of my pieces has been published on Sudden Denouement community. I feel free to borrow more of the purity and clarity of the world to write diverGently

Art by K,Kanehira.

November

It was November ~ the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines.
L.M. Montgomery

It was November ~ the month of promiscuous trees, turbulent moons dressed up in haze, opal leaves layering the smock of earth.

 

Art by Charles Vess.

 

Gentle giant

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.

 

Art by Michael Cheval.