New English poems...

For my Angelman…

long has she wandered withershins

through this…her simple, humble world:

a hidden fairy orchard, bearing timid

girlish blossoms, but no fruit…

her trembling shyness softly curled

around the colours of her seasons

hardly ever finding reasons

to enhance her glance

with free expressive smiles…

she walked the endless miles

of sadness and abuse…

just sipping comfort from the blues

of tender April skies, the aromatic hues

of every Fall and all the so subdued-

ness of her Winterdays, abiding

but the merest haze of Love…

she was a butterfly, a dewdrop

on a rose, a lonesome dove…

now she is dancing on the heights

of Heaven’s Holiness…

a woman blushing wisdom

warm compassion, sweet

Erotica and Truth…

she is a child, a cheerful lady

for an Angelman discovered her

and gave her back her Life

her Lust, her Youth…

Najade

Tuesday, 12 September 2006

yigaquu o saniyu adan vto

adadoligi nigohilvi n asquv

utloyasdi nihi...

Just me…

translucid drap’ries, iridizing

o’er the silent, musing mind…

a dancing dialect and a million

million matrixes to find…

subtle melodies, arising

from endogenous blue rivers

timidly evaporating, here

along my shiv’ring bodyline…

which one of these sheer ageless

slowly snowing silversounds is mine…?

I am a girl…

I am a woman

I’m a mother, I’m a daughter

I’m a sister, I’m a lover

small and fine…

I can’t be anything but this…

a tender whisperspirit

child of clouds and dawns…

my words the whirling little pawns

on heaven’s starlit crystal chessboard

being moved by playful angelwings

and always reappearing moons…

unfathomably high on light lagoons…

my weightless voice

receives its timbre through

the windows of infinity…

I’m shadows, colours

rainbows…I’m just me…

Najade

Friday, 17 November 2006

Mystique…

up here...twixt higher silence and lucidity
I know I’m being dressed in your Mystique…
I gently smile and softly call on you
through this our special Space…
a sacred place in which we linger
and imbue our equal selves
the only tender way we’d ever, ever wish to
holding hands in front of mirrors
that elucidate all distances
in shades of glowing amethyst and blue…

and on one wondrous weightless Lightwave
we sail out into our Dream…
while you’re amused and pleased and cheerful
for I never fear our skyland’s elevation
I just dance with you, just laugh
and sing and beam…
and when you touch my inner strings
I am the womangirl who brings
you youth and peace…a fairy May-elf
on your airy Autumn’s breeze…

around your lips I see sweet traces
of your boyhood’s timid language
showing me the deepest beauty of your Soul…

up here…twixt silence and lucidity
you rhyme with me, you waltz with me
aflooding us with Grace that sets
our twinlike Spirits free and makes them whole…

Najade
© Drs. Rikki Keller
Sunday, 29 October 2006

Serene…

in crystal clear duration

deep deep height by which we bonded

is repeating its surprising April-Bliss…

a blushing paraphrase

that writes its luscious Love-lines

on the mirrors of horizons, sunsets, oceans…

this…our prayer of Emotions

born in freedom from our first

enchanting Kiss…

up here our Paradise is based

on golden Honesty and Light…

a home of Holiness, so natural, so young…

we do so long to show each other

all our endless tender care…

we share time’s seconds

and eternity’s mere sheen…

a little boy, a little girl, One smiling Spirit

so sincere and so serene…

Najade

Monday, 16 October 2006

Scents…

scents of heather, leather, whisky and wild musk…

dusk arolling o’er the moorland

like a frozen silver breath…

a purple smile along the welkin in the west…

a man is walking through the still vales of his mind…

his silent quest a cherished voyage

to the angel in his soul…behind

his lashes she’s abiding

never hiding from his yearning, burning glance…

within an age of spinning seconds

she’ll be nestled to his chest

and they shall dance…

scents of violets and vanilla…

softest rustling of white silk and ruby lace…

a woman lingers in the dreamworld of her being

seeing nothing but her lover’s tender face…

within a sigh his warm emotions

will embrace her floating spirit and they’ll merge

high on November’s musing air…

scents of heather, leather, violets and vanilla

gently fusing…flying anywhere…

Najade

Thursday, 16 November 2006

Nympaea Alba…

I play the soft romantic rôle of Nymphaea Alba

oh…so lightly lightly ling’ring

on our musing mountain-spring

the pure October air ablush and shivering…

I know your lovely lively Spirit will fly by

in just a sigh…to sing and waltz with me

to lay with me, mildly amerging

with my maiden lily-soul…

we’ll sense the Whole of Nature’s Wonder

in the sweetness of our unity

we’ll see the sheerest Light ‘long Heaven’s hills…

a whispered windchime of emotions

will be whirling through our allembracing thrills…

I hear the breathing of your silver wings nearby

my cream corolla widely opened to your smile…

and while the frailest jaden grasses frame

the image of our dream we’re being lifted

by Love’s One eternal stream…

Najade

Sunday, 22 October 2006

Aubade…

your gentle fingers touch my strings

with such benevolence and bliss

that from my being young glissandos flow aloft…

soft is the energy which brings my inner silence

to give birth to every silverchime

and glowing whisperword…

I am your harp, your Stradivarius, your lute…

subdued emotions are abreathing

through our worlds enchanting vistas:

em’rald oceans, jaden vales

and April-woods…

you are so good…so sweet, so selfless

and your giving, granting hands

imbue the meadows of my mellifluent soul…

the whole of this, our Love’s adagio

is lacing ‘long the lightlanes of our lands…

I am your harp, your Stradivarius, your lute…

avoicing gratitude in every smile and glance…

Najade

Thursday, 19 October 2006

Osmosis of Emotions…

much like the evening breeze
is breathing over contemplative water

making love to silver cloudlets mirrored there…

and like phosphorescence of traces
might debouch into a promise…

a prognosis, lightly glowing, pure and fair…

such a dawning tender reference to Love…

this osmosis of emotions, mildly hidden

hind time’s veils, just to be lifted

by a gesture full of care…

much like the Fall divides its radiance

of brilliant nuances ‘cross the woods

of Nature’s grandness everywhere…

that is how artlessly we integrate

each other’s mystic images, right here

within our world of trust and grace…

you are the Sheen ablessing soberness

with multiple significance, addressing

all your Beauty to our ways…

you paint my virgin figurations

in the colours of our renascenting youth…

while we are speaking without words

about the wonders of our dearest given Truth…

much like the evening breeze
is breathing over contemplative water

making love to silver cloudlets mirrored there…

we’re being chastened by the miracles we share…

Najade

Wednesday, 11 October 2006

The Hawker…

such a Sunday…
such a day of which the wilted arbitrariness

is going ‘long the houses with her smile…
much like the hawker from an ancient picture-book…
and while I am looking in advance for signs of Spring

he’s simply riffling through the yellow leaves of Fall…
across his shoulder all is shy and grey and still…

the drizzling rain, the musing mist…the latest
blood trace of September’s blushing berries…
from the willows sober tresses dripping bashful tears
of loneliness and pain…and I…I miss you, miss you so

I’m braiding seconds into one depressing chain…

such a Sunday…
and my thoughts are just asliding twixt the weeping
weightless hours…hours of which the emptiness

is breathing ‘long the houses with her calm…

the hawker’s leaning on his dream…

at every doorstep densely speaking without words

blindly muttering of what he’s bringing by…

his crooked finger slowly pointing at the drawing he adores:

the tender aquarelle of heather on the moors…

a little girl is stopping somewhere in his artlessness…

and see, she laughs and only he knows why…

it’s such a Sunday…

such a day that leaves our village sound asleep

here, beyond a handful silent life on sheets of paper

in the sheerest subdued shades of timid blue…

while all I do is fold my hands and think of you…

Najade

Sunday, 08 October 2006

Another story…

she is another story…
one of pounding, pelting rain

a seventh silence
and a last last smile…

she stands within her humble language

like a stamp on tired water and…

what’s laying underneath

just trembles on…an age…a while…

the small reflections of a girl…

a heavy boot upon her neck
her fragile chest that slowly cracks

and flies astray…

she is a candle in a storm…
another story…one of a war
and crying children
and a last last voice

that has no chance to pray…

she floats through this

her agile language

like a phoenix over ashes…

and what’s laying underneath

just simmers on…

blue reflections of dead bodies
dumped in long forgotten craters…

names on pages of a dark report…
guns and babymilk on one transport…

Najade

Monday, 02 October 2006

Fawn…

slowly walking by the trembling hand of silence
‘round the remnants of a long forgotten stream

she seems to never find the lift-bridge

to the border of her one last girlish dream…

she travels lighter than a feather blown astray…

her past in ashes…blinding flashes

‘long her back, here…on this empty way…

her face is hidden ‘hind the collar

of her whispered poetry…

she doesn’t rest, she doesn’t sleep

she doesn’t cry…

slowly strolling, sometimes limping

like a little wounded fawn…

disappearing with a helpless

hopeless sigh beyond the Winter’s dawn…

Najade

Tuesday, 26 September 2006

I speak ‘Still’…

I speak ‘Still’…this mystic dialect

dawning o’r a cold hand’s shivering palm
a wincing shoulder or a wartorn land
whereon Winter spreads a silver sigh
to cover up all pain…

silence, silence to gain Peace…

trembling phrases of mere Love

above an orphaned baby’s

lonely displaced crib, it’s mother’s

ashes and it’s father’s grave…

I am not brave…my voice is soft

it wouldn’t even move a withered rose…

but I oppose the world’s resentment

strewing flowers upon eveybody’s ways…

I speak Silence, whispered sunrays

of sweet Hope…my scope is infinite

my agile soul’s a smile

my heart’s a stream…

I scream for trust, for altruism

goodness, light…

I speak Silence, simple Silence

day and night…

Najade

Thursday, 28 September 2006

Ensemble…

they live together by the sea…

so gently reading in the mirror
‘long each other’s silver coastline…
sending silent, rippling phrases
‘cross the water’s lucid shine…

they’re sharing depths

that do not need the light of day…

they softly move each other’s reed

that breathes their passion

and emotion, way…way

to their blissful shore…

they won’t be lost

they won’t be lonely anymore…

they’re living purely in reflections

of each other’s crystal virtues…

voicing thrills with golden sparklets

of the glowing virgin flame

of tender youth…

they’re hearing music that eludes

all spoken languages and yes…

they’ll always be each other’s

sacred destination, ‘cause they’re One

in this, their Love, their Holy Truth…

Najade

Monday, 25 September 2006

Cocoon…

my sweet sweet home…
this cosy box in which warm seconds get
immortalized in writing ‘cross my timid mirror soul…

we are living by the shore of sun- and moonlight

where the future’s being welcomed

with a bright beau geste of gratitude and grace…

my girlish heart…

this little cottage where you’re safe

and loved and cherished nights and days…

where we are chastened, having shared

each other’s pain in Autumn’s soothing bath

of smiling April rain…

impossibilities are Truths and Truths

are whisp’ring in our Nature’s every song…

this small Cocoon in which you breathe

such sacred tenderness that all of me

is glowing like a Rose…

between our sprits grows eternal magnetism
soft and honest, oh…so intimate, so strong…

your Angelmind…

this crystal skyland where you’re flying

with the bluebirds, strewing words of hope

and goodness on my ways…

this is the world, the holy place where I belong…

Najade

Monday, 02 October 2006