dormir e tocar

It was there
in the interplay of sleep and touch
when the mind captures all it can
to add to its nightly feasts

as you whisper, breathe a soft wind
your voice soft as slow sounding waves
in warmth of the sunbeams it seems
to set my skin aglow,
when you are the Sun...

and as you rustle on the sheets
and surround me with you
the mind finds a stormy night
when in summer heat
land draws the power of the sky

and in the parting of clouds
in the rising clarity, you are the Moon
in a halo of your own making
Your silent moonbeams touch me
to stir into the sound of your voice
lifts me, closer...closer...

and I rise to you...
and fall deeply into my dream.

rise into eclipse

She brought an inner dimension
opened a portal to an unseen space
for everything known around her
is also something imagined.

When I sense the mood from her smile
see a flame in her skin, she carries
a piece of the Sun...

when I touch her in the night-
when it seems I simply must-
she has the loneliness of the Moon
there on the edge of her lips
in the still shadow as I rise into eclipse.

When I look into her eyes
into depths, an invitation to explore
until there is nothing left of me
just traces of happiness spilled out
like comet dust across the sky.

Each time I love her, there opens a place
that never was before...a place
of riot and abandon, a place of journeys,
a romance in the art of her touch; and
to the last...a place of home.

você está...

...a night bloomed desert flower
witnessed by stars, and a peculiar light
near the Moon

shared the darkness and great wonders
upon a sea of sand, a tent made a small isle
there were two loves held there

one to fill God's eye with starlight
one to simply fill... my heart.

de te olhar

Pale moon rides upon sea color sky
in dark's slow descent into balmy night
and sun still holds the lower range,
bright gleams through full green trees.

I see in silhouette her silent seas
and my mind is free now to choose
the answer to my curious eye,
creative whims that I surmise and keep
as a secret passed between none else.

Upon the graceful pale beauty I place
the aspect of a smile, light in morning gaze;
the face of night I wish for when awake,
dreams that hold my heart in sleep.

So deep are works of light and shade; so green
the prayers that I have made, so pure
the season of long bright sky, that spirit
and eye simply agree to watch her.
She is in the Moon.

mais uma vez

o deserto da noite,
tem um coração aberto -
Eu ouvi sussurros
da alma do Sol

tão viva - onde iremos vê-lo -
vivo como na pele da Lua

Abri os olhos à noite

uma vez, porque eu amava as estrelas
e mais uma vez, porque
Eu te amei ...

deepest pockets

Some say it was an empty pocket...
that i came into this world
without the blessing each child has,
that has his own.

I never felt a breach, never lacked
benefit of grace and beauty...

my Mother was a beautiful woman,
she never knew it, or never let on.
In that old bent and yellowed photo
young in Honolulu, white orchid in her hair,
a smile that flowered upon her face;

after I knew her, in years that rushed
despite moments that would never end--
there was joy, and there was not, i saw
beauty, and bruises in her suffering--
marks upon her soul i think.

They disappeared in mornings-after
consumed by prayers of forgiveness,
with sunrise of love; days of doubtless faith
she burned and glowed, became
the closest star in my life.

Does the Moon know it is being held,
lifted from drift?
Would it kiss the world, embrace the Sun--
delight in the frolic of life in a balance--

I wonder now.

Did I ever kiss her hand,
rub my cheek to hers, whisper
the wonder of how I came to be--
came by great wisdom-- and to choose
these deepest pockets,

so full of eternal riches.

(c) September 9, 2010 Howard D. Moore
all rights reserved

Fragmento Numero 103

“O amor é simplesmente a pele do conhecimento…”
como se a pele tem uma voz para falar ao coração
eo coração tem uma maneira de ouvir
uma doce canção sem som, sobe
como o calor-- eo amor
é simplesmente a chama da vida
o fogo dentro... sussurros da alma do sol


love is simply knowledge possessed only by the skin
it was as if the skin had a voice that spoke to the heart
and the heart had a way to hear it
a sweet song without sound,
rises like heat—and love
is simply the flame of life
the fire within—whispers from the soul of the Sun.

Seasons

the old man at his window
whispers a woman's name
through a fogged glass
bare trees of winter
bend in cold winds


(c) all rights reserved

este não é o dia

One day i will say
"today, I do not love you--"
i will let the magic fade,
drift and pull away

like the beautiful old world ceiling I saw
in drift to sleep-- last view of night
sweetness in a tender bed, among
closed eye visions and echoes,
você estava em meus braços

your carefree touch still tingled in thoughts
my skin alive with memory and anticipation
how the present stood still
at the edge of your lips.

você era a flor da lua,
a minha felicidade na ponta da pétala da

One day i will forget the pain of the man
whose fingers reeked of wet plaster
who carved dreams yet to be
because it was his dream;
and i will forget my dreams--

um sonho que era precioso, tenro
como o ar quente de verão na minha pele--
those that held gentle spring rains,
your hand in mine in chilled air, me,
adoring stars because they filled your eyes,
warmed in your smiles that marked moments,
etched them upon walls of my heart.

My dreams were deep wells, boundless
and flames of stars would dim
when i stood in your night shadow,
when summer honey flowers envied
the taste of your skin.

One day i will say, " I do not love you"
this, is not that day...este não é o dia


(c) all rights reserved