I come from a musical place
Where they shoot me for my song
And my brother has been tortured
By my brother in my land.
I come from a beautiful place
Where they hate my shade of skin
They don't like the way I pray
And they ban free poetry.
A black cat among roses,
Phlox, lilac-misted under a first-quarter moon,
The sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock.
The garden is very still,
It is dazed with moonlight,
Contented with perfume,
Dreaming the opium dreams of its folded poppies.
Firefly lights open and vanish
High as the tip buds of the golden glow
Low as the sweet alyssum flowers at my feet.
Where are you, my beloved? Are you in that little
Paradise, watering the flowers who look upon you
As infants look upon the breast of their mothers?
Or are you in your chamber where the shrine of
Virtue has been placed in your honor, and upon
Which you offer my heart and soul as sacrifice?
Or amongst the books, seeking human knowledge,
While you are replete with heavenly wisdom?
Oh companion of my soul, where are you? Are you
Praying in the temple? Or calling Nature in the
WE sat together at one summer's end,
That beautiful mild woman, your close friend,
And you and I, and talked of poetry.
I said, 'A line will take us hours maybe;
Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought,
Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
Better go down upon your marrow-bones
And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones
Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather;
For to articulate sweet sounds together
I prefer red chile over my eggs
and potatoes for breakfast.
Red chile ristras decorate my door,
dry on my roof, and hang from eaves.
They lend open-air vegetable stands
historical grandeur, and gently swing
with an air of festive welcome.
I can hear them talking in the wind,
haggard, yellowing, crisp, rasping
tongues of old men, licking the breeze.
Sunshine was pouring
in the wake of black shadows
Tulips clashed with noon
shining, shining, like full moon
Pink orange hues, like sunset
Midday quite breathless
when wandering wind has gone
from fragrance and fire
It'll return later, too late
dreamy fragrant rose
on the avenue of sun
half scarlet half cream
living for the ripe summer
lush fields of honey
there will be singing
when the aged dawn turns noon
Blooms bountiful on laughter lane
Purple peonies after raging rain
May melodies, sunshine songs
in emerald elms and garden green
A waking world, scents swirled
Saffron spring, scarlet ruby rose ~
Creamy clouds roam restlessly, slow.
beneath the rainbow
pretty penny for your thoughts
whispers in the wind
sunshine starts at noon
after such deluge delay
skies smile upside down
god's voice of thunder
commands all nature to dance
Same old orange sun
creeping in from velvet dark
with familiar clouds
Another rosy morning
of blooms lush like yesterday
of pure breezes and blue sky
and normal rose bliss
Bouncing blooms like tomorrow