Poem no 12 In the Verse Cycle TO YOU. I Paint YOU I paint you every morning, as the silhouette of the flickering light in colours of swiftly motion in every shade, tone and tinge trying to catch your complexion Your soft skin. I paint you as a blue Forget Me Not, to know that you always will be close a small Daisy in the morning dew, that wet your eyes in the sunny heat and many Columbines or Granny's Bonnet, that birds will sing in every tree. I colour your hair in blond and brown every tuft so thin and discrete every strand so neat and subtle, that I could spread it with my fingertips moving a fine tread from your forehead, knowing the feeling when we meet. I paint you every morning, Your glittering eyes, your rosy cheek that blush under my pencil, Your whispering lips that stopped in a kiss when the rain started falling erasing the most of what I did. And when Tomorrow comes, I will paint you, In every morning of the flickering light. Copyright 2018 k.c.
The Wind You dangerous, You tender, You soft and violent You wind of Nature´s hand You are my music, the Anthem of my soul And the bearer of my silence. You carry my dreams, my quenched thirst Over endless seas and lands You catch my kisses vainly dispersed And place them in my lover´s hand My morning´s light you will hastily spread My darkness you meet in the sky You scatter the sun over a foreign bay And drown the night in a whispering sigh. My lonely calls you take on your wings You make a clear lake of my eyes The sound of my cries you make to sing And my tears in the fountain will die. Knowing, that you stop in a tender caress With a languishing touch over my mouth Sweeping me in a thin laced dress and taking me from North to South. From the Poetry Collection The Path I tread All rights reserved
I LIVE To those who search for wisdom and peace To find the way of your own being There are not many paths to choose among In the short time of beauties desire Or while the young flames are burning. Much effort has been laid on thrifty weed That only deepened your dark eyes Made wrinkles about your forehead Your mouth to a bad grimace A total distortion of your soft face. Now bloom my dear, in this golden time Where all your passion is moulded into love Cause if you never have loved like this You have never known or urged yourself Into That passion, which is all you need To say; I live. Copyright 2020 kc.
In Beauty Walking Why should I not in beauty walk Those lovely stirring moments, where every tear is dwelling In where your pride your instinct live, The holy sacrament of lust and fair and you, so easily beguiling us with your adorable looks. And I, now slowly walking Close, in the mirror of your tears I follow your bowed but delicate forehead For attending some release of the day Lying down like a fragile daisy in the morning grass. Do you think the flickering light from my window Will sooth my fleshly ingenuity, And hold my bouncing blood in a nursing pace Force my ears to a prudent deafness And mute my silent breath In darkness a secret, in daylight a heavy burden. If so, I would stop my effort to find the real essence, The bottom of the eruption from my heart That lingers like a verdict from a death struggle, Still my hunger from Nature’s impossible crave The fervent heat that suffocate my crying My passion, my unyielding sense of love in perfection. Copyright kc. March 2020