affirmation

I watch with ever wonder
as they wisp-like dart
around the room dancingly
prancing effortless steps
with such limitless youth
and envied abandon.

He is a tornado or
so it had been said,
yet in my eyes he is a
prince most potent,
commanding my heart
with each word he speaks.

And she, much more
than regal a princess
lithely evoking my calm
wonder with witty words
as the knowing world bends
around her determination.

My beautiful children
compose time itself
with each giggling leap
as they cavorting the room
expand, and define the day
to suit their brightening play.

Yet always and ever
they return to she who
bore them, who wore
their needs wantingly
inspired to nurture more
than a family hers.

I listen to their play
and I look at exquisite her
as my heart fills with
such longing, for in her
is life most carefully
most joyfully affirmed.

İstanbul 1 December 2021

touch

This Istanbul cold invades me,
pervading every bit of me.
I simpering shiver beneath
its so unkindly clasping, me
grasping that there is more
to this, that somewhere between
the pleasure and the pain,
between breathing and being
were moments of simple enduring
honesty—a space, a place, a time
so very extraordinary if only
because in its utter banality
it conveys such divinity—
the perfectly quiet, subtle
and unadorned moment
when the greatest significance
of life is expressed by nothing
more than a touch.

İstanbul 22 November 2021

[Thank you, Allison.]

only you

There is not in this world a place
nor a time defined by the needs of others
that can guide these limbs, these notions
forward quite so remarkably
as does the merest thought of you.

In my deepest heart I cradle yet
every memory of you, so bold
and beautiful beyond any words
that even I could evoke to assist me,
for you are nothing short of exquisite.

I have treasured your playful voice
teasing and taunting me to debate,
your voracious mind consuming
knowledge in a manner undaunted,
daring arrogant truth itself to concede.

Your laughter illuminated the dark
daring me to be more than me, as you
filled the room with such vibrancy
that I had never witnessed before
no matter how far I have traveled.

But at this moment, this bare time
of mine, as the craven cold creeps
into my bones and the sun descends
wearily once more—at this time
what I miss most about my love, you

is the boundless power of your touch
to hold back the darkening tide
and bid mighty Ra himself return
across the heavens with a warmth
that only you could ever command.

İstanbul 21 November 2021

lunatic

She has only ever inspired me,
conspiring with such passion within me,
imbuing every inch of this flesh
with the keenest and cruelest desires.

And I, poor needful soul that I am,
have only ever clinging adored her,
imploring my baleful beloved Luna
for one night more in her arms.

Yet now, she peaks at me disdainfully
behind these distant dreamy clouds
allowing me nothing more than
the memories of her I desparately treasure.

Oh my dearest soul, mournfully
do I invoke you on bended knee,
bowing graciously, gravefully,
come to me, for you have made of me

truly a lunatic, completely unhinged,
ready to leap from this terrible height
if only for the impossible chance
of touching you one last time.

spring

The ghost of spring wanders here,
aimless and anxious and waiting
to be reborn in small immaculate petals.

With tiny timid steps it traverses
winter’s indifferent graying skies
longing to repaint the world verdurous.

How lithely it will bend itself to the task,
its eager fingers caressing these hills,
birthing blues and greens and such blessings.

I watch, and everywhere I go here,
each trembling step I take into this winter,
I see you—the very image of spring!

For in you fecund hope finds a wondrous home.
In you is life and laughter without equal,
and a beauty that deftly reaches beyond time.

Winter in Göreme, Turkey (Nov 2021)

your colors

A mist shrouds this ancient land
as the gloaming grays the skies in
ashen pink hues that stubbornly refuse
to reveal all that I know must be there.

Where are the gossamer threads
of light glancing gleeful off the water?
Where the playfully sauntering greens
that grin from each layering leaf?

But the richest colors I have ever known
silken sweep across your cheeks,
descending deftly down your hair
like the wondrous warm russet of dawn,

the ever rising intimacy of the sun’s
first light before which even the gods—
curating creators of all we behold—
humbly bow in worshipful obeisance.

gift

The welcoming warm sunlight
wavers over these eager paths
piercing simmering shadows
illuminating ambitious need.

Peaking cedars point envious
crowns towards the heavens
where cooing doves glimmer
as they float on penciled wings.

In the years that spread before me
loom shapes and shades only
barely discernible, yet somehow
staggering my uncertain steps.

Yet what I see most clearly of all
imbued with the most vibrant tones
that singing shimmer across my heart
is the gift of joy you blessed me with.

And for that
I will always
be grateful.

a song

There is a song that stays
playing through my thoughts
so compellingly calling me
that I cannot help but soulful
sing it aloud again and again
wherever I may be
and whoever might hear,
following each and every note
as it teases my memories
from their reluctant slumber,
drawing needfully my thoughts
into a most insistent longing.

And I welcome it.

The voice of my soul sings to it,
as I youthfully caper and dance
and delight in the zealous joy
that such a melody instills.
The sounds are like colors,
painting fields and flowers
and the dreaming deepest woods,
and even a distant strand
where feet dive deep into the sand,
and laughter splashes over the waves.
You are the song I love to sing,
the song that urges me to hope and desire,
and to moonlight that glows
across your so beautiful face.

strands

there are strands of time
that are effortless to follow
as they wrap themselves gently
meaningfully around my heart
tugging teasing me forward
to discover in the midst of all
that is common around me
that which is truly majestic

those moments now bid me pause
and wonder at the pleasure
of far more than a memory
but an enduring vision of sensual
you in summer enchanted,
like the kiss of a sunlit day
blessed by the barest glimpse
of the eager adoring moon

little fingers

little fingers
painting pouting petals
tickling timid toes

little hands
dripping ice cream
digging in the dirt

little mouths
whispering wonders
singing so sweetly

little eyes
reflecting such beauty
tendering honest tears

little hearts
offering the biggest
boldest love of all

God, how I miss you,
my little dears

My wee Cooper, Asena, and Leona Ellington