“My whole being is a dark chant
which will carry you
perpetuating you
to the dawn of eternal growths and blossoming
in this chant I sighed you sighed
in this chant
I grafted you to the tree to the water to the fire.”
–Forugh Farrokhzad, excerpt from “Another Birth”
Art by Masayasu Yoshida.
If I feel depleted
Why should I breathe a name
That carves chunks of my heart
At night
And pending mornings
Sticks them
With meager liquid
That flows
In the deep
Of the dark
side of your
Quivering moon…
Art – Midsummer Night near Vejle Fjord by Harald Slott-Møller.
When I’m not in the right place
I take a step
look into the heart
of a stone
cloud
moonbeam
memory
and get drunk
with the shades
of night’s wish
to light the world…
© Iulia Halatz
Art by Hans Dieter.
The heart has a puzzling shape
The moment you thought it broke
Becomes twofold.
The moment in a relinquishing evening
You thought it whole
It breaks
Until the morning
When the shape is restored
And your feelings pour like early April rain
Over thirsty lilacs…
“The heart is an organ of fire” –Michael Ondaatje
It flickers and lights the embers of any glib desire.
Art by Georg Janny.
Her skin is like fire
her breath, distant desire
Flowers meet
for their annual feast
any time you kiss
her meatiness white…
Her hair comes from the stars
a supernova dust
it shines and coils
and transports
all of you
in a magic land…
Where seas are soft and wild
Winds blow
Of unknown stories
That paint and burn
Sounds
On your skin
That rekindle
Every time
She moves in sight…
Art by Julia Gabrielov.
I long for a dream,
within a dream
that clears the sight
of you.
I am asleep and asleep
I feel nothing
But the craddle of your arms
like orange snakes
thrashing fears around…
Black and white tale
Shall that be…
Every night a little dream
in the dead of sleep
in the depth of you…
………………………………..
Words spatter lights
in pools.
Do not squander their yellow glare
To guard you through winter…
Art – Ivan Volkov, Tatiana Larina’s Dream from Pushkin’s ‘Eugene Onegin’, 1891.
This is an old poem from 2015.
I know someone
who kisses the way
a flower opens,
but more rapidly. – Mary Oliver
I know someone
who breathes as soft
as stories
find nests into lives.
I know someone
who touches
the sunset light
in the sycamores.
I know someone
who kisses
in Binary Code
One in spirit
One in flesh…
Art by Viktor Vasnetsov.
Writing is
quieting the burns
from people’s thoughts and deeds
And dissolving
all knowledge
that this will
ever happen…
© Iulia Halatz
Art by Andrea Kowch.
Iron fairies
Never stoop to worry
At clever inventions
Of thoughts
Coming from up North
to hasten the revival of aloft
shimmer-like words
that shape and betray
the troth
between spiders and gossamers
to yarn
the magic of the moon above
the bounty of the greens in May
the pleasure of the fields to stay
till cobwebs sparkle with dews
and decay…
© Iulia Halatz
Art by Helen Flockhart.
My blooming chart says
Love is not Love
that could not resist
the flowers to seed,
bloom,
bask in the moon,
wither in the wind
and wait patiently in the ground
more agains than springs…
© Iulia Halatz
Art By Michael Cheval.
This is an old poem.