IN A MORNING MIST

Jun 6, 2016

In a morning mist the shadows
sway, softly stir,
and the wind, hesitant,
barely touches the trees;
Dull, the memories, sharp the pangs
of having to return
to the somnambulant day.
The path in the dew
disappears in the moist expanse of the meadow.
 I love what the light will reveal
once the sun is out of the mist.
I shall pray, let the morning stay
even after the mist is gone;
I will accept the light that will come
as the will of God

Foto Credit Ulysses Without Ithaca
despedida
josé


Deixa-me ir em câmara lenta até ti-
o mar alcança tudo
mesmo o silêncio
mesmo o abraço da despedida
mesmo o inverno mais frio-
deitado na terra
serei a última pátria que conheço
e no meu peito desprevenido
um rouxinol voará
num voo de gelo e sol-

dá-me a tua mão de seda
para que nela adormeça-
alaúde de água
é agora a minha cabeça
josé, 2007, Monte


música
um disco de muitas névoas matinais
Rachel's - Music for Egon Schiele (Full Album)
https://youtu.be/4NFgtBxU7iU

MEDITATIONS AT DAWN

Meditations At Dawn
Pink and mauve is the dawn
There where I left my body
ravished by a fever at night on the rocks
a soft light spreads with the foaming wave;
The child that went to sleep
and woke up with the dawn
is a grown up standing in a row
of fishermen tugging at the net.
The lessons learnt from the stars
are hard to translate on the rocks.
Let me work with fishermen
and embrace the tide and the waves.
The child is with the moon and the stars
wishing me a happy day and tugs at the net hard.

Image courtesy +Humanity Cries 

Humanity Cries originally shared to The Beauty In Humanity:

THE RED MOON

Sep 15, 2016

The red moon is flaming the sky.
Below, the lake reflective, answers, placid, shy,
Further down among the shadows
the moon is transmuted by weeds,
tempestuous among reeds :
 an insurrection of a kind.
A chaotic fire leaps;
it can eclipse the moon in the sky

Image credit: Milan Lakić

good night

Time Alone Knows

From my archives August 11 2016
TIME ALONE KNOWS
Standing on the verge of precipice,the girl in white, the man in black,
she, lost in dreams, he in angst.
Her thoughts were flowing with the beloved river,
 thoughts of spring, togetherness of summer,
snow white like the dress she wore, virginal, pure and coyly sweet.
He in his black suit, formidable,dark,
deceptively strong, arms folded across his chest,
guarding against the absurdity
of the war that attacked on every front,
the battles they fought in the smaller world
of the diurnal rounds of anxiety.
A boat sailed across the quiet river
like a papercraft of her dreams.
He like a being from another world was thinking of the day he had to plan
before the war called him to battle.
And the year was 1919, when imperial forces ruled the day.
Time alone knows what happened to them

With the tide the logs
severed from the tree
come and swim with the waves,
briefly touch and move away.
Another tide another wave,
a lifetime lived and set away.

Image credit Sall

Nils Dardel (Swedish, 1888-1943) Young Man in Black, Girl in White, 1919