A night in lavender

Tags

A night in lavender, Distance, Eric Clapton, Heylor, Passion, Poetry, Shetland, Star, Wonderful tonight

 

A night in lavender comes from the sky,
ordinary at first, if it wasn’t for
the glow of fireflies and a pair of lion’s eyes;
it’s a cast over Times New Roman hello
where thoughts chase away the late evening,
turning into a wish living its life
on the flame of a scented candle.

I don’t know how to tell you,
that when the night approaches,
suddenly or on purpose, I run frightened
to find shelter inside one of many dreams about you.
Sometimes you are so close that the air I breathe
has the power of a wild ocean, and I like it,
even if it drowns me in the end.
Other times we are just two strangers
enjoying the silence and the strange love
in a world where the eyes could only speak.

But tonight I can relish your face,
your voice can trigger butterfly wars in my mind,
and this time is as real as it could be.
It hurts all the same that my hands hold
a hot cup of tea and not your hands.
You will ask why I didn’t dare and break
the digitally shaped distance,
you were only a sigh away… And I will tell you
that a passion nurtured little by little and
hidden between the shadows and the soul
deserves more than a sparkle from a faraway star …

©2014, B. T., All rights reserved

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I can write another poem tonight …

Tags

Anniversary, Ennio Morricone, Le vent le cri, Love, Pablo Neruda, Photography, Poetry, Shetland

Inspired by Pablo Neruda’s “I can write the saddest verses…”and Ennio  Morricone’s “Le vent, le cri”

 

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* * *

I can write another poem about the distance tonight.
Something about chants over shivering seconds and stolen lights,
about his mahogany eyes and forgotten Milonga dance.

But the night burns with treacherous sparks,
with thousand butterflies over cliffs and tides.

I can write another poem about him, how I craved
his lips, his words, his hands and sometimes he did too.

In nights like this, within crested dreams, he desired me
and sometimes I did too.
And how couldn’t I? Lust suffocated the pain in this sweet combat.

I can write another poem about love and passion under
the never-ending violin sounds and voluminous skies;

when I know that everything is bound to break,
even the perfection in the curves chasing the ocean.

To feel that with every crash of the waves I have lost him.
To hear the whispers of his soul, faraway whispers,
even more without him,

when the night ignites under the moonlight and
poetry drops heavily on my heart, just like
the rain that strikes everything dead or alive.

And that’s all there is. In the distance someone plays
Morricone on the piano. In the distance.

My mind does not know harmony. My heart searches for his.
My voice longs for the breeze that would carry my secrets to him;

how I no longer hate the darkness of the night without him,
it’s true, but maybe I still do. Longing comes so suddenly, settles
comfortably in the shape of a precious hug and never dies.

Because in nights like this he always held me in his arms,
through the imaginary miles apart,
while poetry drifted into the distance, silently, lilac- like and sad …

Leaning into the distance

… and I think this is a post good enough to celebrate one year since I started Between the Shadows and the Soul …

St. Ninian’s waves

Tags

Ocean, Photography, Shetland, St.Ninian Isle, Wave, Waves

“Just as the wave cannot exist for itself, but is ever a part of the heaving surface of the ocean, so must I never live my life for itself, but always in the experience which is going on around me.” ~Albert Schweitzer

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A wave, St.Ninian’s Isle- Shetland

By clicking on the image, you will be able to see the original size.

©2013, B. T., All rights reserved