The birth of a poem...

The essence of very tiny detail, like a carefully placed comma, or an invisible sigh of admiration, distilled into dewdrops sliding over the long green leaves that protect tulips from overexposure, redeeming the beautiful bold color and adding a dimension of its own.

Then letting it go into thin air, like a weightless particle,arriving in far-away places, like a carefully thought-out idea, a blissful singular event, a flash of infinitesimal brightness, arriving at noon, completely negating shadows and at the same time completely absolving them.

The reign of calm arrived with these words and it is here to stay...

Thursday, November 29, 2012

A fine silk ribbon

A fine silk ribbon, pink lace, the bow undone

As the fingers trace the shapes and forms from skin to fabric to skin...

A constellation in the sky, shining brightly, the mystery solved

As the night gives grace to shadows and they die, reborn as dreams

As the eyes close and die away

As the trickle of time slows down in the galaxy

There's me, wanting to be you...

There's you, defining me...

A melting
 union of hearts and minds
And no certain ending...

The night spreads its pious veil...from star to fabric to star

We go far...far away.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Piano (The End)

Where do old pianos go?
Left for dead, on a desert island, by the river
Or between the sand dunes, as caravans go by
Left to dry, to rot, to lose all melodies...
The keyboard gathers dust
And the old legs start cracking
And there's no one around to bring it back to life
To revive the perfect memories.
That's what perfect memories are for...
To be left intact.
And that's why we don't go back
To where we've been, even if it's the most beautiful place
We've ever seen.
For fear it might not be the same..
And there goes the memory..
Soft, tingling sounds, piano tunes...
Elegant lines, cocktail glasses
Smoky eyes, silver cuffs on the wrist
And a story about to be told
As time grows weary and old
But not the feeling...
Not even after the piano is swallowed by the
sandstorm and the elements
The feeling lives.
It may be good or bad
It depends on how carefully you store your memories..

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Ancient Wisdom

Buried under layers of modern ambitions.
Left to archaeologists to ponder.
Excavating symbols and searching for meanings.
Frowned upon.
Lost geometry. Lost faith. Lost hopes.
They did things differently back then.
And their ideals were excruciatingly high.
No such faith today.  The neon prevents the sky
From giving us the stars and the constellations.
We’re urban children, trapped in the myth of now.
And the old roots go away.
We try to remember, the collective subconscious
Awakens something, a stir of an echo from far away.
The old wisdom is simple. Eternal. Written in stone.
It’s not their fault that we forget.
We manipulate and create shortcuts
To represent our own truths and convenient stories
To tell the pillows in the empty beds.
The children won’t believe.
It’s easy to deceive a floating soul.
And thus everything flows away.
The arrow of time takes it away.
Never looking back.
Forgotten wisdom.

Sunday, August 5, 2012


This here now. Big blue.
Silence. Blessed calm. Knowing what I want
Knowing there’s no more anguish and expectations.

Blue everywhere.  Everywhere I turn.
Even the blurred corners of my field of vision
Melt into nuances of finest sky blue
On a summer day.

Balcony scene. Serious, moderate contemplations.
For I am here now. And feeling one with everything.
Everything blue.
Ice cubes and great resignation. Acceptance.
I feel the flowers in the pots expressing their silent agreement.
This is how it should be.

Every moment wasted now has a chance to be redeemed.
Bubbles of finest blue.
Celestial order.
Harmonious blessings.
Too much, too little, too lovely.

Because this is me. This is where I belong.
In many hues of blue...

Friday, August 3, 2012

Northern Star

Stella Polaris.
Constant light. Showing North.
Never failing.
Guiding light for lost souls.
Always there in the night sky.
For centuries.

And when the song strikes a chord in the heart
I’ll be there
And when the music becomes too much to bear
And your heart wants to return home
A light will show you the way.

The Star of the North.
It knows all your memories
All your troubles and sorrows
Drowned in the seven seas
It knows your joy and your songs
And what makes your soul fly.

And when you see the table set for guests
And the familiar faces waiting for your return
You know, that’s the end of the road
This is where you put the suitcase down and
Where you belong.

In the arms of the loved ones.
Celebrating the return.
Under the faithful light
Of the northern star.

from the poetry collection Northern Star >

Wednesday, August 1, 2012


The night sky is lit up with stars.
The air kindled by sparks of
Unspoken emotions.
The eyes like searchlights
With the need to explore
To know more...

The quiet vastness of the Universe.
All the forces conspire
There's always something higher
Deeper than the paralyzing fear
Of desire and intent
To be good and do good.
Know love..

Love is everywhere.
Behind the mountain.
Beneath the bridge.
Beyond the sea.
Between the lips.
Borrowing heartbeats
And notes from harmonies.
Celestial harmonies for all
When the walls fall...

It's in the stars above
In the constant reassurance of the night.
One certainty
One victory
One Love.

Sunday, July 8, 2012


Cool water on my lips
Smiles in my eyes
Sunshine relentless sunshine
All around...
Dancing barefoot on the sand
The thought of you sets me free
To be careless again
To feel the rhythm of joy and pleasure
To treasure the little drops of heavenly release
In my mind's eye, there's a feast
And in my heart, pure contentment
Waves whispering ancient tales
Somewhere in the distance a piano plays
And if you follow the melody
You reach the right place to be.
At the centre of the universe.
At the point of realization.
There's a fountain of knowledge
And a shrine of feelings.
And you hold the key.
As I bring you a glass of cold water
You smile, perplexed, watching me.
And in that smile I see the beautiful days ahead
And that's when this summer becomes a fairy tale.
Of long days and hot nights and special delights
Safe in the knowledge they're written in the stars
And to be here longer than just one season.

Monday, July 2, 2012


I know what I'm saying.
My feelings belong only to me.
I can let you read about it.
And you may or may not see.
Nothing matters to me.

My soul is an island. I can't take
Other survivors. Life is each to his own.
Sort of became that way, these days,
When no one was looking.

Not my fault. Not my doing.
But I cherish my loneliness and my Crusoe days.
If you can't find a way to complement this
Just go on your way.

Don't worry about me. I'll be fine.
And don't worry about the absence of feelings.
No one can have a ready made supply.
It doesn't happen, sometimes.
And the sea continues to harbor the reflection of the moon.

You wait for the dawn. I'll be somewhere else.
Taking my words with me. Casting no looks, no anger, no shadow...

Monday, June 25, 2012

Midnight in Athens

It’s midnight in Athens.
An anchor in space and time, in the fabric of nocturnal existence.
As a stellar improvisation of stars and moons playing jazz
With the eternal orbits of celestial exuberance.
Somewhere else, the ship has sailed
Somewhere else, the white curtains wave farewell to the dream
A lonesome trumpet calls the evening in a seductively sombre wail 
And the lamp posts in the streets give the neon lights double shadows.

It’s midnight in Athens.
A voice travels through the ethereal corridors, electronic wonders
Of our present time, something to put to good use.
It doesn’t matter what you see. Or what you believe.
It’s real enough for me. And I am the one indulging all my senses.

Sweet synesthesia colour me. Tender music hold the night
And tango the shadows away. Let the feeling stay…
Let me vanish completely.
Sometimes darkness is not frightening.
And somewhere in the world it’s always midnight.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

I know

It's not always easy to find
The path that leads to peace of mind
And when the heart's whispers turn to screams
Shadows play with broken dreams.

Thoughts that lead away from despair
Wanted desperately.
I know.

Goes on to show, how your inner voice knows
But there's no need to light up the lights
No need to reason, it's not done.
You're not the only one.

No one knows where that knowledge goes.
It's just a waste of time.
No one cares.
I know.

No one can give you directions. No instructions on the road.
No signs of artificial neon and affection. No hope.
No shoulder to cry on, no principle to rely on.
Up next, the crossroad presents the choice.

Not yet time to give up on the soul.
Away from everything that doesn't really matter.
Away from everyone who couldn't possibly know
How it feels.
I know.

So I give wings to my dreams and I soar high and above
And there's no more room for debate about the merits of love
I am not going to be the one with the "told you so"
Everybody is welcome to find out what I already know.

On my own. Calm and resigned. Not here.
Not anywhere. Out of reach. For me.
Only hearts that beat in tune with the spheres
Can feel and let me be.

Completely aware, calm, composed
Creative and courageous, and strong.
No compromise, no method, no explanation.
I don't care who doesn't get it.

Life is tough that way.
I'm tired of sifting through leftovers and morsels
So keep your happiness to yourself.
Don't rub it in. It's not on.

Watch me disappear, in the landscape of nothingness.
I know where I am safe. You don't get a say.
I know.

Monday, April 23, 2012

Words (In their Defense)

People often calculate.
They expect the excess of sinners
To outweigh anything they've been dealt.
Should anyone articulate the delicate finger pointed
Towards a wretched soul
It immediately brings forth the shiny halo of a saint.
Marching in to their defense:
An army of angels on heavenly orders
Messaging the lower echelons of delegated faith.
Counting footsteps through the brittle grass.
The road to contentment.
People rarely know what they're on about.
Nobody cares.

Dewdrops are beautiful as they glisten
On the grass, but seldom is the eye ready
to perceive, and without patience
there cannot be important discoveries.

People speculate. There's a stone
and broken glass and water everywhere.
Soon the story is woven and the water turns into blood
And the stone turns into a sharp blade.
Life not taken seriously. Ends up on a slab
For a gossip post mortem.
Feels papery. Enter:  the scavengers.

Saturday, March 24, 2012


Scaffolding around the walls of the soul.
Carefully removing all dangerous, precariously shifting elements
From the worn out facade.
Putting life's priorities in order, in accordance to the building plan.
Everything needs to fit in. The soul must be stable, functional, safe.
Let the light in. The finer essence. Comfort and warmth.
Give it meaning, give it all a purposeful exit, an excuse
Something to live by, to believe in.
Let the spirit flow. Let the place become sacred.
Let the eyes show, a beautiful view.
Inner beauty. Contentment.
All squared. All beautifully composed.
Let it be a marvel. A wonder.
Gently reveal it for all the world to see, to know.
That's how you deal with it. Between science and art
That's how you restructure your soul.