Tag Archives for love

Rain

You spoke the water
And the water has given
Us a new name
But I call you, still

Poetry and Love

Satisfying shadows
The earth parades us
And these drops
Seem to fly

 

 

Inspired by the lovely Lady Nimue: Rains

 

Note: Monet and Renoir discovered, through the practice of painting light and water en plein air (in the open air) that the color of shadows is not brown or black, but the reflected color of the objects surrounding them (an effect today known as diffuse reflection).

“Color owes its brightness to force of contrast rather than to its inherent qualities … primary colors look brightest when they are brought into contrast with their complementaries.” ~ Monet

A Thief of Nature

A moon caught in your throat
Little bells ringing out
Solus sanctus
Enthralled to stillness.
There are many ways you pretend
To be still, and still you move
Shivers chasing my tongue
Fingers breaking the secret
Supplicating eternal upon my skin
New legs brushing the voice of history into prayer.
What wholeness!
Tongue wrapped around your man poem
Recital that understands perfection.
I steal those tones.
In my hand – our lives
Those moments of natures expansive intimacy –
Those moments never last.

Unfolding the Sun

 

Let a woman’s heart be a sphere,
And the soul of a man
That moves between her lips and her heart,
Devotion, a brave flower whose fragrance
Fresh, embroidered wishes
Into her soil.  Dreams

Shepard birds to her hips where,
Vines like united souls twine,
Oath-ed to his temple mount,
She gives songs borne of his fruit.

Let the Beloved’s imagination twist
A song from her face –
The magic of a poets verse
Gracefully hanging from her kiss,
Stars, guilty of dust and all the joys
Of love colouring an innocent sky

And taking a subdued path
With a borrowed promise,
A gentle rising,
Until, the veil wakes
And awake before the eyes of lovers
All stands open.

Enchanted, of the sweetest elixir
A soul to his soul
When her heart bends eastward
Calling to dawn, in prayer
He, the rising sun…

 

 

© A Hannan

 

For Kellie’s ‘Wish Jar’ http://magicinthebackyard.wordpress.com/the-wish-jar/

Homage

 

 

For his art, he withdrew
His soul, a spent sun
Hung seven layers above
A midnight moon,
His feet a bed beneath the shadows
Preferring plant and stone
To lustiness. I lingered,
A tear to every storm and wind
Rounded firmly in his palm,
To the rhythm of the nightingale
He praised me in every colour imaginable,
Preserving his love, with mirth
And breath, he fashioned me a book,
A matrimony of bride and earth
To lines, poised, only to burst
With ecstatic bliss.
This rite, a sweet hymn
To tune the heart at dawn.

Only he who loves, with his whole heart, knows God…

 

 

 

 

 

(c) A Hannan

 

 

 

Letter – 15 October 2011 II

 

Beloved,

I have tried so many times to respond… but however does one begin to write a poem for a poet?
When I search for comfort I find my breath, concealing you in song. There, our voices sing to the moon and the blossoming dawn, as they lay bare the fragrance of the earth. Aching, for your feet to step to my path, to penetrate the expertise that comes from loving over and over and over again, I wait, hoping you will remember the shared field, our lips amongst the harvest, bodies tied to earth searching for their truth…

A

Letter – 15 October 2011

Beloved,

I’m in tatters. My breath boughs, resigns and reaches for you, only to find the slopes of eternity silenced… slayed in this afternoon light.
It is obvious, without you my grief presents the cliff with an edge, where naught stands before me… I search for comfort and find only the needles of the pine, in hand, where the names of the dead bathe in the moonlight.
With each breath, I try to unlearn you, yet, how does one unlearn the concealed song flowing through their veins?

 

A

Divinity: of The Waters

There never were the slightest flaw

In the rose.

 

I quickly exile a dissipating breath,

Stifle the flight of swans,

Reflect ancient floods

And where the streams meet

Veins, rivaling the moons charm,

Saving the sweetest kiss beneath the flower.

 

Of inspiration

I lift the empty glass skyward,

She parts my vapid vision

Piercing my mute witness,

The smooth horizon breaks,

Waters cluster in harmony

An endless song laughing in waves.

She is divinity, chasing my caramel skin,

Spreading adultery over the contour

Of my sunset stained breasts.

Beauty is entwined in this embrace, stripped

Of voice she, idolatrous drum solo

Seared across ancient desert dunes

Tracing rumours until their flame dies.

 

Passion, all but rouged bursts from the figs heart

A frenzy of tears, now that I am ripe

Let the savage bliss of God’s bouquet

Frame my blessed sin, one delicate finger,

Mouth open in flight, poised,

The petals of a rose mingled into a disheveled kiss.

 

 

Anahita – The Ancient Persian Goddess of fertility, healing and wisdom… the divinity of ‘the Waters’.

 

 

 

(c) A Hannan

Inspired by the post ‘Arianrhod’ here: Shining City On The Hill