Tag Archives: poem

Moon and Mine

23 Replies

“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

My last sea holiday this year has been putting ideas in my heart. Yet, again.
Pictures taken in Corfu.

I am a forest

32 Replies

I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses.
–Friederich Nietzsche

I am a cloud, and a siege of tornadoes: but he who is not afraid of my swirl, will find banks of rainbows beneath my grey.
I am a gale, and the yearn to push boats ahaven: but he who is not afraid of my blow, will fly with the skylarks.
I am a sea, and a green of waves: but he who is not afraid of my abyss, will swim away with the mermaids.
I am the night, and the thrill of dark dreams: but he who is not afraid of my nightmares, will fall sleep with the daffodils.

 

The moon

16 Replies

In the evening
with my eyelashes
I kill all the events of the day
I choke perceptions and
reveries green
That could be real
Pending dream.

In the evening

with my fingers

I spin yarns

For your sweet bedlams…

“I’ll be looking at the moon,
but I’ll be seeing you.”
― Michael Ondaatje

 

Art by Yajuro Takashima.

Iulia Halatz
She says: “Be the one who cares, make words so disruptive that they create new worlds, hopes and dreams. Even if we are unhappy dinosaurs and find shelter in an Iron Tale or ruminate about feeling too much, whilst declaring colorless apparel, we should take power and strength from our stories.”
Her published poems can be found in The Sudden Denouement Anthology Volume I.

What is the sound of a feeling?

15 Replies

It is what you hear
as vibe of Love
like thunderstorms
stripping the coat
of your soul.
You are undressed and protected
when sounds propagate
to create a garden of lilies

touching the ravishing gold
of water
rippling with innocence
and magnificence
in the winds
in the winters
and in the snows of June.

© Iulia Halatz

Art by Julius Von Klever.

 

Trail away

19 Replies

Trail me away
with questions
and the weight of your love.
Abyss is not yet invented
Just seen in shadow moons…

Cast me away
with a thought
replenishing with haze
in mid mountain mornings…

I carry feelings
in my pockets
and stories of you
to guard my garden of lilies…

Every night
I wash myself of you
until another one comes written…

 

Reposting an old poem from 2015.

Art by John William Waterhouse.

To be in love

31 Replies

The Sea is a fickle lover
One day sweet as
honey dew
The other bitter
like sin…
that makes you
fall harder
as if hit
by a ton of bricks
made of water glass
Sincerity.

It loves you back
with ardor
You have been dissolved…
Both limbs and heart
know no more
than
liquid love
that once was only
words…

Dawn hovering over the Black Sea until the first rays break into so many winged good news:

Fibonacci’s greed

17 Replies

Numbers are gold
They measure the silence
of centuries
and never pin down
to feeling.

Put Love in a number
It would be 0, 1 or 10.
Put Hate in a number
It would be seven.
Numbers follow
the horizon
and leave us alone
with even, naught and odd.

Numbers are perfect
They order the chaos of galaxies
and split away fear.

Inspired by Mick E Talbot.

Art by Remedios Varo Uranga.

Vestiges and claws

12 Replies

We are the only people
in the world
and we hold
the keys to all
gardens and dungeons
beneath a wall…
We live on
Moon’s compassionate light
and greenish profoundness
of Spring.

We may not die
but if we do
your smile will freeze
the light blue
in my eye
and shovel back the trench
to where I quench
my thirst for throbbing hearts
and burning dreams
deposited in chests
that heave entwined.

Art by Ivan Avgustovich Veltz.

Love is the fifth season

63 Replies

Love is the fifth season
It starts in March
With shines of longer days,
guarding the waters more.

It moves along with
greens and joys of May.
It flourishes above the lilacs
And with you I sleep
Amidst lilies-of-the-valley…

It drifts down July dusks
Colored in bluish touches.
……………………………………………
October is the beginning of times
Cutting edges and bringing back
Memories of youth.
Now it is the season to embrace
The truth…

This is an old poem from year 2015.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Art by Viktor Vasnetsov.