Tag Archives: flowers

In the heart of flowers

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In the heart of flowers

There is a hidden fire

Fire that soothe breeze

breeze that breath love

Love that embrace valley

Valley that plays pee-ka-boo with clouds

clouds that rushes to caress proud peaks

Peaks clutching perfume of spring

Spring nurturing sweetness of honey

honey the heavenly wine of elixir

elixir that alter any soul a seeker.

Seeker who swirls as a fiery orb

in its own euphoric euphoria

surrender to the pragmatic nature

to decipher the intricacies of life

while tossing questions of pebbles

from its infinite sea shore

filtering recurring waves of complexities

and snatch pearls of wisdom.

Afar, valley with spring of flowers

playing sea saw with stars.

Coy moon with pallid reflection

blanketing valley and reciting poems

where night flowers bloom

once in a while as liberation.

© Maaya Dev

 

The Polish Kiss

In a dreamy field with dark blue irises,
Her lips are like falling, red butterfly wings.
In his blue eyes, she sees that hope rises.
O’er the life bridge, sometimes, the bell of death swings.

In the flower-filled wind, so high is his thought
As near is his feeling to the heart of love.
Flapping skywards, the dark spirits come to naught.
So sunny the sky, here flies the white dove.

With his long black hair and his beautiful chest,
He is a Polish king in their wedding bed.
His ringed hand swings the paradise of her breast.
From there, so far is the rising moon and so red.

Their thoughts into the vast infinity slip,
Into the flowers’ seeds; untouched sutured wounds
In forgotten memories flutter and clip.
Prayers from afar do flow to the lips’ sounds.

She wakes up in the field; the irises have grown.
Her vibrating horizon is forsaken-
A love so near that her heart has never known.
Knows now who she has, from her dream, awakened.

Poem by Marieta Maglas

If you were a spring without flowers,
probably then all my trees
would be lethargic.
If you were a wind coiling without leaves,
possibly all my trees would be already fallen,
and if you were a sky without its sun,
certainly no other tree could
germinate to grow from seed.
And I would not be able to exist any longer,
for I am the forest.
But in the snowy winter that would follow,
and in the churches with empty bells,
not ringing in the frost,
God would be still existent.
But you were my springing spring,
my whispering leafing wind
and my sunny sky.
And, in the winter,
in your absence,
I did not cease to love you while
craving for the melted snow,
craving for the blossomed trees,
craving for the ringing bells…

© copyright Marieta Maglas