The Hearts Wine

Like a king the soulbird sits, on a branch
governing this weeping silence.

There is an awakening
falling in to this space of
borrowed grass whispers

and shared fences painted
like naked lover, back turned and eyes shut fast.

He is a noble man filled with sugary words
and candy smiles. She be lady in waiting,
latte’ sipping, red lips dipping,
nail polished tips – no splitting.

Between them, half filled glasses
measure words half spoken,
thoughts, half shared.

Now, be silent.

Do you hear the heartstrings
spilling passion upon this grass.
Lavish stories laid down on your ear.

There is a flowing of stories
when you let silence mingle
with the wine of your heart.



(c) A Hannan





I am all
Jazz music

NOTE: ‘Dis-Cooperire’ from Latin Dis and Cooperire, meaning ‘to remove the covering; completely uncover.’ By the mid 1500’s it was used to mean ‘seeing or gaining knowledge of something previously unknown’ and ‘finding out; bringing to light.’

Metaphors & Moans

Fingers carpet my flesh,
Blanket my spine, a shiver
Where words cease.
White stone cities crumble,
Petticoats of red flower clump amongst
Tulips painting daytime fantasies,
Opening to the sun’s narrative as
My mouth outlines your crescendo,
The scent of wine on your skin
Sweet. I drink you, lips bruised
Devouring the delicacy of your metaphor.

(c) A Hannan