Tag Archives for union

Overflowing From Silence

One last breath
races within me,

black horses around a merry-go-round
to supernovas and blackholes
splitting kaleidoscopes of no-mores
and dreams of forgotten.

One last breath
through the doorway of yesterday.
Eyes, shut fast leave me ajar
and I inhale tomorrow’s closed door.

Distance confused this mind.
Uncertain, incomplete,
some days its always night…
the constant drone of crickets on my ear.

On days like this,
I reach for your hand.
It’s never there,

sometimes I forget!

One last breath
the bloom of eternity
overflowing from silence.

Show me the way

to union,
wantings possibility of threshold invitations
over footprint whispers,

fragile assurances.

 

 

(c) A Hannan

 

 

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

 

 

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

Untitled 19092011

 

 

Scarlet threads
Suiciding over regal rouged lips,
A luster shred indulgently upon your words,
Gracious coiffures dressing me
Only to undress twilight
Over a union of naked bonds.
Let this proclaim a drunk poet
Bound at last
To an increasing breath
Curved over your lips,
Suffocated by your hands,
Engraved into my warm flesh.

 

 

 

 

(c) A Hannan

The Poets Hand

 

I waited the other side of dawn
A naked flower for company
Knowing not the scent of your woods
Or the wounded wail of your fields.

I waited the other side of night
Hoarding the glow of dusk,
Drowsy in its golden sheen
Limbs, innocent as lilies.

This nuptial, my native fervor
Hung on Venus, awaiting
The sleepy flames of passion ripe,
Enamored in the poets hand.

You hold the Queen
Lit with a festive star, northward
Follow the rim of my wine glass,
Witness the frigid petals, rouged with faith
At last drawing apart.

(c) A Hannan