Utterances

Invisible Babble

in the background of my life

Ghosts of my inheritance

flailing behind my Mother,

dragging their feet behind my Father

One surrounded by Mist threatens

to dissolve the fiber of my resilience

the other covered in tired dust,

ancient Dirt calls me to my purpose

reminds me of my origin

The Legacy of deep sorrow

and profound joy in the wisdom

of the earth’s Beginning

The maddening Utterances

no longer outside

live Within me, those that Resonate,

the others have melted

like Vapor in the sun’s warmth,

some still come as Whispers

life Encouraging itself.

Yaron Art 5

l’heure du baiser (the kiss)

The moment my lips

Yaron the kiss - Version 3

Art Work by Yaron Rosner

meet yours,

in Readiness

Part, just enough

To let you through,

To let you in,

Just enough to know

I am here, Now

for You, in my Fullness,

the Consent of an instant

in the Gateway

an unveiling

a little bit of me in you

Our boundaries fade

outlines blur

we become a fleeting shade

of each other,

in the deeper giving

of the deeper Kiss

*    *     *

 

Skirting The Moment

I have taken my head apart

allowed you to interfere

with the grace that bubbles

Art Work By Yaron Rosner

Art Work By Yaron Rosner

in my belly such a geyser

I have let your presence

tamper with my inner quiet

and in between

I have brushed my teeth,

I have boiled water

and asked myself when

I’d speak to you,

I have cooked

and cajoled, I have kissed

and been kissed, only

to find myself thinking

of when I would approach

you, reveal myself, show

you the wounding

from and the longing

for, your friendship,

and in between

I have journaled,

washed dishes, knowing

the time must be soon

and will be of my choosing, or not

and then I slept, deeply-

opened the door at dawn

for my cat who tapped my cheek

with its paw, I did not think

of you then, but returned to the warmth

of my bed. I awoke a second time

to my daughter’s request for food

and knew that today would be the moment

I boiled water for tea and coffee, made

French and ordinary toast, slipped

on my clothes and brushed my teeth

brushed my hair and oiled my face,

I drove, wrote, in the knowing

that the moment is in the seizing

the moment is now or not.

 

Transitioning

Those Passages,

when we change planes

or trains, are Redirected

onto other quays, gates

a New Direction

****

This line will take you

only so far,

another will bring

you further

****

Then it is back around again,

back to where you started

this time with new Eyes

a different shading to those lenses

more or less Resolution

A Heart that Leads

****

Unless of course, the Journey

was so distressing

the eyes Shut

the heart hides Deep in the Chest

and only Fear can be gleaned.

****

Railroad SL

My King, My King

Buried in the hidden confines

of my Mind

You Reside

your throne, so Dark

under years of antiquated

Luster

*

You sit, pensive,

always pensive,

even when you smile

*

It is eternally Dusk

in your Chamber

but never cold

 *

Kindly you invite me in

with a Nod

Kindly too, you offer me a seat,

*

but I cannot sit,

instead, I wait,

wait for your question,

the one that will allow

me to tell you

just how much I love you

Here, in this Chamber

and beyond

*

My King,

of long ago,

My Heart

*

Painting By George Rouault The Old King

Painting By George Rouault
The Old King