2 poems by Wrulf Gunkl VonGlashaus

Fire

 

for Tyler

 

The grass is whisperin'

the leaves are singin'

the sun smilin' in the sky,

is that too perfect a picture?

oh yeah, 'cause you, me and nothin' else are perfect,

screw perfection!

let's all take hands in a circle 'round,

the Solstice fire awaits our dance.

 

The snow's beguilin'

the wind seducin'

the moon shimmerin' above,

is that too perfect a picture?

oh yeah, 'cause you, me and nothin' else are perfect,

screw perfection!

let's all take hands in a circle 'round,

the Solstice fire awaits our dance.

 

Spring's acomin'

new life alurkin;

the smell of earth alive,

is that too perfect a picture?

hell, no - you, me and everyone else!

let's all hold hands in a circle 'round,

the Solstice fire awaits our dance,

let's all hold hands in a circle 'round,

the Solstice fire awaits our dance,

awaits - awaits our dance.

 

 Galaxy

… naked galaxy of pirouetting confusion

irradiating your hair threading open sorrow,

aorta of desire licking the wound and pleading for

the diamond of your glance,

and the street is no busier

than the journey of my veins

run amok,

wilderness moss steeped in the dew sweat

from your brocade creases

tracing my densities

not comprehending what you sing

at the midnight of my crossing,

bayou gnawing at my seams

knitted across your brow,

windows dancing in frost

between your foot and mine

drawn in flesh-curves aged in

a redolent, dripping moon weeping

what we cannot speak,

boat staggering across oceans of gems

dissolved in the tilted cadences

of our furnace hymns, yet

where the road

where tracks the sun?

a craven spider web of

craving cradling my mind,

butterfly unsteadily, slowly winging its arch,

my feet paralyzed in honey

crushed from the womb of a riddle

chanting of something else,

of more,

and still, where the road?

my face melting,

lips torturing and twisted by

wayward syllables,

decadence of my caverns sobbing to know you

in a serenade of essential fibre and fire

strung across the pained instrument

never ringing so deeply or disheviled...

... simmering, shivering in the lost galaxy of our eyes...

~ ~ ~

Von Glashaus was born in 1950 and developed an early interest in creative writing. He was Director of The Snapdragon Poets’ Society in Pueblo, Co., and now is Assistant Director of The Pueblo Poetry Project. He’s published a novel, poetry and a collection of all-original aphorisms. He also is a composer.

Lost

by Wrulf Gunkl VonGlashaus

It was the glorious terror of an instant when
the sun was lost in the moon - and
the explosion shook the hair out of
the world into our abyss
nourished by the blinding light,

… enraptured and captive, we ran and hid
then dared to play,
first, you were the sun and I was the moon,
next, you the gem
haunting the silken web of night...

… and the explosion still
shakes our abyss
nourished by our enraptured eyes filled
with the terrifying
glory - of a joined moon and sun...

© Wrulf Gunkl VonGlashaus 2011

Wrulf Gunkl VonGlashaus was born in 1950 and started writing creatively at a young age. He's published a novel and a collection of original asphorisms, as well as written flash fiction, poetry and short stories. Currently, he is Assistant Director of The Pueblo Poetry Project, in Pueblo, Colorado, USA.

Magnolia Song & Tightrope

Magnolia Song

by Wrulf Gunkl VonGlashaus

(for The Beloved and in honour of Arthur Rimbaud)

… the magnolias are far away – still, I sing, begging

them for bridges to

brood with stanzas of butterflies

in the suffocation around and

heat mocking the sea where once we walked the shore

beneath the cruel commas of hawks

showering seraphimic curses,

pink roses upon storms

flung upward from spotted, inverted baskets, northern Iranian

mountains

aching

praying

wandering

the cavern between the olive-minuet of your eyes and

mine absconding their color from above and knitted by

anguished waves stumbling, floundering

into lunar mercury,

the slant of scouring rain

throwing blue into our faces

in cadences

dribbling from

lemons and leaves of tea, strong with riots

of black peppers hurting our tongues

along the central street

of our knowing, speaking

silence

without riddles

yet wrapped about our shoulders

with brazen mysteries hovering above

the staring magnolias

which now have crowded in...

… though I still sing

and always will...

… of you...

***

Tightrope

by Wrulf Gunkl VonGlashaus

Sh-h-h!... the cat leaves feathers of silence

for footprints as she glides,

and refraining from knocking her off-balance,

the wind holds its breath

because it is hypnotized

by the grace and mystical communion

of cat-feet with the tightrope of the moon

along the windowsill of night...

Sh-h-h!... even the silence is mesmerized!...

All poems © 2011 Wrulf Gunkl VonGlashaus

Wrulf Gunkl VonGlashaus was born in 1950 and started writing creatively at a young age. He's published a novel and a collection of original asphorisms, as well as written flash fiction, poetry and short stories. Currently, he is Assistant Director of The Pueblo Poetry Project, in Pueblo, Colorado, USA.

Magnolia Song is a surrealistically symbolistic portrayal of a lover and the poet in Azerbaijan, not far from the Iranian border.