Category Archives: Iron Tales

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.

Thank you for reading!

© Iulia Halatz
Co-author of Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective, available on Amazon and Kindle.

Art — Water snakes by Gustav Klimt. Source — Pinterest

Fortitude

Fortitude
Blue Insights Cultural Prompt — May 2021

We are all fighters in trenches
and defiers on battlefields.

We are all thinkers
of simplicities and beauties.

We are all carriers
of hopes and smiles.

We are all dreamers
of strange countries
full of secrets and dreams.

We are all lovers
of abysmal seas
and sunlight glare.

We are all cherishers
of truth and magic.

We are all travelers
On untrodden paths
amidst unruffled nights
and shimmering fireflies.

We are all storytellers
in a defiant era
of storms…

We are all…

For the Blue Insights Cultural Prompt — May 2021, I have chosen “Fortitude”.

Art — Kobayashi Kiyochika, “Fireflies at Ochanomizu”. Source — Facebook

Whatever

Whatever I consider important
The trees don’t care.

Wherever I shed my tears
The flowers don’t know.

Some days have the glitter of butterflies’ wings
Some glint like the fires of Mordor.
Some have the clear shine of truth
Drifting away…
Some the warmth of
a broken heart
Who died
And became Art.

© Iulia Halatz

Art – Wolfgang Harms. Source: Pinterest

Wolfgang Harms

Featured at Medium.com.

Writing

Writing is
quieting the burns
from people’s thoughts and deeds
And dissolving
all knowledge
that this will
ever happen…

© Iulia Halatz

In response to to the Medium/Blue Insights Cultural Prompt for April 2021 “Being Human”

Art by Andrea Kowch.
SOURCE – Facebook

Winter Glass

Up the arduous sky
The wind made powder
of tinted clouds
Whose dreams of winter
endure too long
in the realm.

Cold has gone cool
with wings of white doves
beating
the thin brisk air
to keep the snowdust
at bay.

© Iulia Halatz

Art — Phillip Koch. Source — Pinterest


Also featured at Medium.

Love in line

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…

Art – Dani Soon – Source – https://dionisopunk.com/

At a Solemn Musick

At a Solemn Musick
by Delmore Schwartz

Let the musicians begin,
Let every instrument awaken and instruct us
In love’s willing river and love’s dear discipline:
We wait, silent, in consent and in the penance
Of patience, awaiting the serene exaltation
Which is the liberation and conclusion of expiation.

Now may the chief musician say:
“Lust and emulation have dwelt amoung us
Like barbarous kings: have conquered us:
Have inhabited our hearts: devoured and ravished
—With the savage greed and avarice of fire—
The substance of pity and compassion.”

Now may all the players play:
“The river of the morning, the morning of the river
Flow out of the splendor of the tenderness of surrender.”

Now may the chief musician say:
“Nothing is more important than summer.”

And now the entire choir shall chant:
“How often the astonished heart,
Beholding the laurel,
Remembers the dead,
And the enchanted absolute,
Snow’s kingdom, sleep’s dominion.”

Then shall the chief musician declare:
“The phoenix is the meaning of the fruit,
Until the dream is knowledge and knowledge is a dream.”

And then, once again, the entire choir shall cry, in passionate unity,
Singing and celebrating love and love’s victory,
Ascending and descending the heights of assent, climbing and chanting triumphantly:
Before the morning was, you were:
Before the snow shone,
And the light sang, and the stone,
Abiding, rode the fullness or endured the emptiness,
You were: you were alone.

Delmore’s words have the clarity of diamonds and their sharpness. They cut deep in hearts.
I remember his words with my heart and not with my mind.
Consequently, the heart becomes the organ of knowledge and truths.

He inspired me to write “All Roads Lead to Rome”

“All words lead to Love
And the poetry in the afterLove

I wish I wrote poems
For the dreamers of barren lands.
They do not go to Rome
They go to places
That cannot be.
………………….
From a Good Place
Where joy is an illumination
To the Place that Cannot Be
They would have worn
The silver claw
of the Moon
above their heads
nightly
daily
musingly
vibrantly…”

Art – John William Waterhouse – Flora and the Zephyrs, 1898

Also featured at Medium.com.

My name is Green

My name is Green
100 names for Spring

These are the Unicorn Days
Carved in gold and diamonds
from the mountains,
Molded in solid water
from the fairies’ well
Sang in choruses
by daffodils leaning on the feathered wings
of night eastern winds,
Claimed by a broken chunk of heart
that knows no sparse amounts
of Love…

Clustered green of untamed grasses
and feral blossoming storms
in the souls of plum flowers
Rage
until the fields breathe
the 100 names for Spring
and become
The Unicorn’s envy

© Iulia Halatz

Also featured at Medium/Blue Insights publication.

Art – Vincent van Gogh

What friends?

I have the sun
and the full moons,
The air and the water
blue.

The memories of
the sweet hills
and the crescent moon
keeping the vineyards
in bloom.

For my love
I would give
My hills
wrapped in balmy
vine flowers.

“If I can stop a heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain”. – Emily Dickinson

© Iulia Halatz

Art – Jo March (British, b.1962)

Poetry featured at Medium/Blue Insights publication.

Moon and Mine

“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

Corfiot Moon by the author

Featured at Medium.com/Blue Ingsights