poetry – Page 2 – WORDS IN THE LIGHT

November Poem

It’s not only children of Autumn
who can make a bouquet of Memories
and write a November poem.

When the wind calmed down
I went to the garden.
I started by collecting
burnt orange and red leaves.
I pressed them between
the yellowed pages of an old dictionary.
I watched the trees,
I gazed at the Moon
and I thought of you.
I did not wait very long.
Then I put my ear
to the book.

BEAUTY
was the first word
that came to me.

illustration: Autumn Leaves
(Georgia O’Keeffe, 1924)

Garden of Words / Le Jardin

Let there be a Garden.
A Garden of Words
where the breeze blows slowly
and time goes back.

Ivy covered walls and a bench
facing the beautiful sunrise,
jasmine and clematis
climbing up old pear trees,

small white roses
humbly standing in the light
and shy patient ferns
with closed eyes.

A place like this is rare.
But now we can find it.
Please come whenever you like.
I will always be there.

De ces quelques mots
je fais un jardin.
Un jardin caché derrière
un mur de lierre.

J’y ai planté du jasmin
qui grimpe dans un vieil arbre sage
et j’y ai mis un banc
d’où l’on voit peut voir

le soleil levant.
Et de petites roses blanches,
et de patientes fougères
aux grands yeux fermés.

Viens !
Ce jardin est le tien.
Et toujours tu pourras
m’y retrouver.

The Light of the Stars

Was I thinking again
about tomorrow?
I did not notice
the road sign right away.

“Cementerio”.

But I can see it clearly now
and I feel an angel’s hand
on my shoulder
Why do I worry?

Promesa de Infinito.

I’m dreaming.
The Night is bright.
Time is on our side.
I am, you are, we are

the Light of the Stars.

Promised Land

Slow lights
on the bare mountains,
scattered white villages
unknown roads,

invisible bridges,
floating clouds,
time suspended,
wild dreams in the wind.

The Infinite does not reveal
all its secrets at once
but if you understand
the language of stars

and finally dare
to let your heart talk
you’ll certainly find
the most important one.

Life / Death

The singer stopped singing,
still, there’s a song
in the air.

The candle flame went out
but Fire does not cease
to exist.

Life / Death.
Matter and Spirit.
This world and the Hereafter.

It’s exactly the same.

illustration: Fire Painting F31
(Yves Klein, 1961)

Fallen Angel

I am a fallen angel.
In Heaven
I had a good job.
I was a gardener.

But I killed snails
and God fired me.
“They eat flowers!”
I said, but God replied

“That’s no excuse!”

Since that time
I’ve crawled around
the wide world
with my broken shell

and gardens after the rain
are the only place
where I can find
peace.

The Beauty of Autumn

How nice to stand
in the morning light
as the oak leaves turn gold
and life comes to an end.

How nice to be
followed by a bird
when silence meets
Silence.

How nice to see
through the Veil space and time
surprisingly intertwined
with one another.

The Eye and the World.
The Beauty of Autumn.
Consciousness. Endlessness.
Emptiness.

illustration: the Messenger of Autumn
(Paul Klee, 1922)