Poetry & Prose

In the corners of a poppy field
she wades, watching the clouds
pass between the forest
and a river — bubbling over eyelids.
Today she cannot bring the rain;
she screams to the sky.
Swell the banks and lift my feet,
drag my rose painted toes
out to sea.
But all is quiet
in the corner of a world waiting;
in the corner of a poppy field
a sunflower sprouts from the earth
and in the shadows of a willow
a princess dreams of rain.

Michel Lazzarothe daughter of a lonely sun

A grain of wood
and an old glass fist
caught the risk
of another year
missed.
With a collapsing lung
and a fragile kiss
we inhale tears
as if seconds count more
than the years
it took to build all this.

Michel LazzaroA moment of loss (via elzaro)

(Source: lost-moonlight)

I am old today, as I sit in shade.
The wood is fading with sun
leaking through silver cracks
above my thinning hair.
Out on the beach a man walks alone
beside the salt and stone
lining cliff and sea.
He hasn’t heard a morning song
for a thousand years or more
but in his heart he plays a tune
for the footprints washed away
in a perfect Autumn dawn.
I can’t recall his name
though I’ve seen him here before
he walks the same sad route
I walked before the storms.

Michel LazzaroAre we older than yesterdays Sunrise (via elzaro)

A grain of wood
and an old glass fist
caught the risk
of another year
missed.
With a collapsing lung
and a fragile kiss
we inhale tears
as if seconds count more
than the years
it took to build all this.

Michel LazzaroA moment of loss

I am old today, as I sit in shade.
The wood is fading with sun
leaking through silver cracks
above my thinning hair.
Out on the beach a man walks alone
beside the salt and stone
lining cliff and sea.
He hasn’t heard a morning song
for a thousand years or more
but in his heart he plays a tune
for the footprints washed away
in a perfect Autumn dawn.
I can’t recall his name
though I’ve seen him here before
he walks the same sad route
I walked before the storms.

Michel LazzaroAre we older than yesterdays Sunrise

These days are long and full of violence
and I am so glad I found this silence.
So pick me up or put me down
For I am no longer scared of the sound
my heart would make when it begins to break
because this world was dark,
then you shook me awake.

We wanted to feel the wind
between our knees.
But the laughter turned to screams
as the branches we held
broke with all our sins.
We wanted the same things,
the nightingale sings.
Life, love, happiness and
warm hands in the coldest streams.
But the night creeps in
as grey snow coats the trees.
Soon the sap will freeze
and snap; we must learn to fly.
Spare a note for the loneliest of kings
as he spreads his feathers
and leaves for another spring.

Michel LazzaroNightingales (via elzaro)
littledallilasbookshelf:

Austrian National Library, Vienna by Amanda Rust on Flickr. A secret door in the library

littledallilasbookshelf:

Austrian National Library, Vienna by Amanda Rust on Flickr.
A secret door in the library

featherandarrow:

Titan aka the Mermaid Moon

featherandarrow:

Titan aka the Mermaid Moon

I woke in the evening
and the sun was gone —
the moon was waiting
to make his entrance
on center stage —
and in that moment
I walked through a door
and saw the reason.
She had half a smile
and I knew;
they were hiding
from this, from us,
from our brilliance
waiting to burst
out into the universe.

Michel LazzaroWe are all planets waiting to rise

I’m driving down the night
with nothing but the moon
in my rear-view mirror
and a blade of frost
between my thumbs.
I can feel the morning chasing
with each breath
fogging the windscreen.
I turn a corner and
see us written in the stars
too high for it to mean anything
but for me it means everything;
I can feel my the world again.
I can let morning come
without a struggle.

Michel LazzaroThe Mornings Were So Dark and Cold