Poppy fields in the heavy summertime
Bring such a muted joy, these heavy lights
Burning the world like it was never mine.
A pink shimmer cools the volcanic sky;
Hearts switch bodies: young love is intertwined.
Sunflower sunsets while holding dear faith
Through thin thread of waist, meant to everlast
Soft storms and heavy thorns, don’t be a wraith!
Running for freedom tastes so sweet, shall catch
The last glimpse of light: it fades into night.
Brown hair, same soft colored eyes, how you smile!
Careful for they’re watching close, come to me
And safe will keep this broken piece, last mile,
What’s been left of your heart: do you love me?
Yellow flowers for blue days, poppies fade.
Source: Poppy Time by Walter Crane, 1893
Note: Walter Crane (15 August 1845 – 14 March 1915) was a British artist and book illustrator. He is considered to be the most influential, and among the most prolific, children’s book creators of his generation. (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walter_Crane)
His works radiate an ecstatic and vivid joy that takes me back to a few childhood memories among one that I’m going to share with you: a six year old me in the backyard where it happens to be a poppy field. Through an oddity I happened not to have a fence so my wandering curious mind was free to explore. Unfortunately, the weeds were too high and my folks warned me there might be snakes. Yet, I would just stare at the red wild flowers from a miniatural hill whilst occasionally watching my neighbor collecting honey from the yellow, blue and green wooden painted beehives.
Auburn hair floating through blushing clouds, away,
Beautiful creature made of glued tiny bones
That mend, one with pretty flesh, whisper, sway,
Watch your being, yellow flowers, disappear;
Narcissus, in unearthly seen beauty!
Source: Lady Lilith by Dante Gabriel Rosetti, 1872-73
Note: This is a little poem written for a dear friend of mine while being drunk a couple of nights ago. She never stops inspiring me. Cheers, Ana.
Life gone waves the lover takes, silent than a storm.
Lonely mermaid says: “there’s no place like home.”
Forgotten by minty times, sour fall,
Dark teal water, freezing shore, mends these bones;
If only they’d hear these sweet solemn sobs.
There, joins another between ancient rocks,
Shell white dressed nymphs, gracious spring dance they give.
Remains of a temple, cold reign of loss,
Welcomes wandering souls, baptism of a rose;
An arctic air settles, freezing shore, goes.
Dozens of daughters now bathing in waters
That awful day creatures daren’t touch yet.
Healing’s demanded for God sacred place;
“Sorrow’s eternal and one life you get,
There’s no place like home, living’s a bet.”
Source: Water Dancing by Rob Gonsalves
Note: Gonsalves committed suicide on June 14, 2017. His official Facebook page stated in part: “Rob Gonsalves battled the dark but succumbed June 14th.”
Soon, this unfortunate date is approaching and with this occasion I’d like you to look around at the ones hurting, yourself included, due to such terrible circumstances: from the pandemic to the still lingering racism, I want you to acknowledge that mental health is extremely important and shouldn’t be treated with indifference. Take a deep breath and slowly let go. The world is slowly healing and so are we.
Stay strong, everyone.
Give me a dance between these trembling trees
Cherry blossomed, white-pink sweet memory
Soft steps, you fall back so clumsy it seems
By the heaviness of hearts: our blue story;
Loving you at ease, no stagnant worries.
Give me a dance, tingling hands on my waist,
Cruel, your foot hits the tree, terrible joy
“For we’re wild and free” dare say bewitched lips;
A chilly morning awaits, love to give,
Touched by sunrise, kisses turned into hours.
Source: Prayer of Japan (Cherry Blossoms) by Reiji Hiramatsu, 2012
Beautiful winged creature dressed in blue,
Makes her way across the thorny rose bush
Gold spread, twirls on pale petals, no clue
How I even observed, silly thing blushed.
Delightful chaos in one’s mind shall come.
Why is my fairy lately so very blue?
Looking for the North Star feather way home,
Once a lifeline comet, crossing two hearts;
I beg you, sweet earlybird not to go.
Pretty lady, these heavy arms shall soothe
All the scars this world dare give your burning skin?
Rose lips on mine, chilling touch, hard was youth
For man breaks beauty for pleasure, cruel sin.
Hearts filled with hatred, yet yours is mine still…
Source: La Princesse de Broglie by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres, 1853
Time flies when there’s no one to catch, dear love,
Sweet pleasure and pain, promise of yesterday.
What fearing fact that cold rain-tears will pour
On this sacred place until skies shall fade:
Take me on your rosy pale wings to fly!
Stuck on a cloud, whispering cherry dreams
Notice how birds, they fly against the wind
Make me yours, a honey lavender kiss
Press so fast that our warmth feels like fresh mint;
Beautiful angel, on lashes white dreams.
Source: Winged Figure by Abbott Handerson Thayer, 1889
Grown to break those chains, not a slave by choice.
Hope was found in misery’s reign, flee;
“Sweet dove, send a word, tell me you hear my voice,
Find me a reason not to stay and live;
Soulmate, please tell a poor man you’re out there.
Serendipity, time lapse, ten mistakes,
The birds gone from the thunder-slaughter.
Hear a deafening creak, then she appears,
Vengeful goddess in black shining armor;
Mercy on one’s mortal pride, recall love.
Bless the feet you’re walking on tainted ground!
Open wounds and tears of steel, in mid-air
Bloodshed caused by broken hearts caught, fire-crossed
Yet a poppy he picks up to hand her…
Let us be again fairytale lovers.
Source: La belle dame sans merci by Frank Dicksee, c. 1901
Snow dressed fair lady stays with a straight line,
Another in black at the wake of millenia
Holding dear roses too hard from one spine
While gloomy tears fall from her scarlet eyes;
Does one resent over storm-matching hearts?
Hold the cold hand of the dead, grip so tight,
Shape into a fist to punch Faith away,
For it shall get away from woman’s sight
Everyone at the wake begins to go astray;
Flowers plenty shall face their end and fade.
Woken from the sweetest trance, reverse tick,
To wreak havoc into this beatless world
She opens the mourner’s fist, drops a ring,
Golden rose with emerald heart, diamonds:
”Worry not what the grey future will bring.”
The blood is dripping from her index tip,
Someone made her realize, she was dreaming.
Those soul-scarring phantasms, in fear blink,
”My, where did you get such a dazzling ring?”
She drops to her knees, comforted, weeping…
Source: Four Strings of the Violin by Edward Okuń 1914
Shall I kiss once more your golden lips, mend
Our bodies at the warmth of common touch,
As I leave you out of breath, condescend
To say that I’m the goldsmith, create such
Melting beauty in front of my wide eyes…
Source: The Kiss by Gustav Klimt, 1907-1908
The wind carries a thousand dying screams
Until they reach the blue frosted window
And a little girl makes her way, a kiss
She places on the glass, warmed innuendo;
Heart under a sleeve that’s burning mankind.
Under soft blankets all the thin ice thorns
Be taken with care or good hearts may cease
Beating, poor woman, growing blood-stained horns,
Red lake of fire avoids, purple knees;
Holy words may save your soul, Rotting Flesh.
Tears turned into diamonds, falling like snow
In her icicle fingers, skin getting powder blue,
She becomes a statue, salvation must follow:
Gladly, she meets Fate: angels must be true;
Seek for hidden treasures in your own chest.
Source: The Angel’s Message by George Hillyard Swinstead
Heavy heart sunk into a floating chest,
Dirty waters relieve the clear truth:
One more silver step, you shall assist
To the funeral of a cherry blossom youth…
Memory holds the place of forbidden love.
Like a dream she goes in cold waves
Steady beauty with pale blue lips, dry
Dared for a glimpse to reach the skies;
Icy lilies in hands, one last goodbye,
All alone, that’s how each one shall die.
Blurred vision of a white gold future
Lays in the essence that gives breath
Late baptism, heart broken sooner
Than the cruel wind calls upon Death,
Do things early or you shall always regret.
In the white sunbeams of a forgotten fall
A poor soul was screaming in vain;I’ve found myself in a dazzling castle’s hall
Looking for the lost ballroom, sweet love’s reign…
How come beauty never revealed itself before?
Golden gardens on walls white as snow
Kept by doric columns, rooted in a marble floor
Silver key doors locked, lost in the wind’s blow
Chasing the moment, open every pine door;
Broken windows, shiny crystals all spread.
At the end of the hall, two massive black doors,
Slowly open at feather touch, tainted blame,
Oh, burning red fondness never felt before…
A charming man waltzes alone, held pain:
“Dance with me and life shall never be the same.”
Ardent footsteps on the ballroom floor
Until the evening sun made a shy greeting
Two strangers in the night, turned into gore,
The blood dripping from my hands, awful feeling:
“There’s no longer waiting for my fitting.”
Source: Van Helsing (2004)