Autumn, autumn,
burning light
In the forest of tonight….
Winter’s shades of snow
will come to end the road
Tomorrow.
Picture: Ivan Fedorovich Choultsé.
Inspiration: William Blake “Tiger, tiger, burning bright/ In the forest of the night/ What immortal hand or eye/ Could frame thy fearful symmetry?/.
Me is made of many Yous…
You, astonished in desires
You, lost in stories of beliefs
You, in vapors of regrets for
Ancient remembrances of
LOVE…
Love is twofold when is given…
…………………………………………………………………
You, perpetually startled at the quantity of
ME…
Words by Iulia Halatz.
Painting by Ivan Fedorovich Choultsé.
As I cannot paint
I write about the meaning of the night…
And being poor
I draw my colours
off the shadows
in the meadows
of Tomorrow.
Monsters living in a dream
colour touches on my lips
passing secrets with a kiss.
Picture: Rene Magritte, The meaning of the night.
In the forest by the sea
Stars live in the evening tree…
Whispers rave from the deep red sea
Shine and shine
The sun and me…
Picture taken last year in the Corfiot forest, by the sea.
blogdecompanie.wordpress.com/2015/07/25/every-day-a-little-dream/
Love is pawning your heart
For the trembling sweetness of a memory.
Love is the unnecessary moment
when you see Together…
………………………………
Love is imagination
Dancing dragons in the sky…
Love falls down in showers
That autumn rains could not blur.
………………………………….
Love is painting sunsets
and dreaming at gleaming dawns.
…………………………………..
Love is Eternal
Unicity for One.
………………………………….
Photo: Bill Flowers
Snakey Night, After Van Gogh.
You might also like: https://blogdecompanie.wordpress.com/2015/06/27/love-in-line-1/.
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…
Foto: © Alphonse Mucha.
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…
Photo: Artist: HASUI, KAWASE (1883-1957)
Title: NIGHT SCENE AT MIYAJIMA SHRINE
Dated: 1947 “good night”!
Ship your love, my love,
And back
You’ll get
The star of stars
The rose of roses
The dream of dreams
The life of lives
You have coveted
for us.
The shadow of a shadow being loved
To the moon and back.
Picture by Frank Wendel.
“Men had always been the reciters of poetry in the desert.”
― Michael Ondaatje,The English Patient
…As among dunes you can only see God or who you want. To see.
No assault to the imagination. No questions and whispers by people.
Only the wind carries wishes afar.
A poem soaring above the dunes brings the clarity of music and has the speed of sound.
And we get to see the glassy shine of Orion…
Love among deserts is never the same.
Part of magic deserts by Ivan Fedorovich Choultse.
I know nothing of love, only that it is green. My love is painted upon the love of another.
Love is not a polished thing, but polishing your world with dreams is Love.
Love means spreading her paths with flowers.
“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk through my garden forever” Lord Alfred Tennyson.
My love is totally simple and naive. Red in the flowers and the flamingos, green in the grass and the goodness of the world in you….and …I have a garden.
My garden by Katrina Pallon.
