Ivan Morf
English Poetry
Most of the poetry here was written in the UK. However, snippets of English writing exist from since 1987 when I had returned from Ohio, USA. There is no order in the way these poems are presented, since I just keep finding things here and there.
House Prayer
Dear Spirits of the Soul / Bless this house / Erect a tent above the eternity of my family / of a thousand stars. / Let my heart see what desires to be seen / so that everything may find its place. / Therefore hear me dear mother / who you know where we are going. / Therefore hear me dear father / who you return whence / Pulse of Unity / Emptiness and Fullness at once / Embrace our hearts and set us free.
Pockets Full Of Jewels
It was a long time ago when there was a clock whose legs were sawn off, facing each other in blood drenched soil with a lid to hide them. The clock ticked madly and gnomes tore down their trousers to present their bottoms with gruesome laughter. It was then I saw people could change their colour like a chameleon of the soul while all major violence sat behind darkened jalousies with shy naked girls for company. Outside, white bright light extinguishes all faded thought. The mother mutilated. The father surrounded by useless things. Then time pushes off the trembling quay and took to journey the waters who promised so much more than liberty. Water freely sprayed the world in light, the kind which emanates patient rock. Beautiful trees spread their arms to embrace wide and happy the grey that turns into all colour. There we swing along one tree to next with all our friends, all our love, pockets full of jewels.
The new girl
Now a new girl is born / She is dreaming / Hers is the world and her dreams are true.
Footprints
Ancient footprints lead me forth, into the woodlands of my antiquity. Shades speak of subtle silence and sing the song of solitude. It is this I remember best. Moss covers the ground and feathers my step. Pine grows on smooth rolling hills which once drew rain from the skies. Pull and tag, mountain chains have come tumbling down following the gentle breath of decay and recreation. Little gives reference to their former might except the lofty woods that indicate the solidity of it's foundations and the delicate skin that hides the rounded granite and folded boulders. These are humbled highlands, ready again to reveal the vastness of the horizon. As my pace gently guides me from wood to wood, across open bare fields, I find myself like once, unabated and pure, in my unwanting heart and mind. There are hidden purposes to my journey. I am here to mourn and celebrate, the pain and the joy, that recreates life in every instance. My pain needs joy, my joy needs pain. Dogs bark in some remote distance as if they feel my thought. There is subtle magic here. Invisible to the fleeting eye, hidden behind unassuming shrubs. Everything seems of one colour, yet I find turquoise, copper, silver and gold. It almost is a day of spring. How easily my thoughts fly. There is so much space and if it was not for my knowledge of these parts, I'd think that all life had left to create this emptiness. Only the rubbing treetops create the sound of waves with their leaves. I'm here for love. I love, my heart is open. There are no thoughts to restrain me. Brief is my resistance to the image of her face. I am writing to you. I owe you this debt. Through mysteries we are connected. Through mysteries we are the world.
My silly heart
Oh my silly heart / Where are you taking me / What will I loose / What will I win / / I am afraid to open my eyes / To what might be / And I crave it / As though nothing was to come. / My heart, / My poor silly heart.
Empty mind
My mind is empty / My book is full / I have travelled far / To be not where I started. / Change is ringing my chords / And dissonance is my song / I forget the beauty I knew / I find other
Withered sense
My senses are withered by your aura / I think / I smile / My heart leaps / because I feel your mind / sitting on me.
Tricked by passion
I am tricked by passion / to follow what I know not / To look where I must not / and see what I shouldn't // Then my heart jumps / with joy and anticipation / For nothing is as true to me / like the image of you // In the light of your soul / I am full of regret, yet / I only know confidence / I yearn for your embrace / for it seems so far away / when you are close.
Lovely day
It is a lovely day / and slowly it passes away. / Some things take time.
Left Hand Summer Love
I steal the day when the summer day I and my endless Love stroll over broken clouds looking down at homeless fields where little children bemoan the past. Then, flying, we scent forgotten odour and revere our pitied loss. She sings to my heart, beautiful quaking earth of uplifted flesh. I am there, the pixies behind the tree, lifting the root to be your eternal lover. I laugh to your face and tell you tales of beauty, as your sleeping body vapours streams of passed on motion onto my nose. Lovely blossom child you have grown to the raging seas and no more innocence belittles your being here. I can but smile with cunning intent at the pools of your eyes as tender hands reach for your soul. I seek journey dancing amongst the trees and in the wilderness to betray you with ever lasting life. You seek rest, awaking glow of shinning moon.
The Cat
The cat sees my ghosts / And while I feed it / And while I pad it / It sees my soul.
My mother is dead
My mother is dead. / The house is darkness. / Clouds shed their weight over my head. / The air is sulphur. / A tunnel of light stretches out before me. / Old patterns tempt me with doom. / Will I take the first cup handed to me? / My heart cowers on the ground / begging my mind to use it's steel dagger / to dig into the transparent flesh of my fears. / Procreation of the known. / It's presence resides in smell, sound and vision. / I am in a land of darkness. / All light is faint. / Yet this glow / however small / visits me through my mothers friends. / I feel her inside of me. / I have vision. / I see. / I endure, too easily. / I need to move, / subtle but with consistency. / I have added vulnerability to my repertoire. // Hit me! / I'm here. / Will I seduce? / My heart is not with me, / my mind seeks reassurance. / Gentle, / move slowly, / let the glow warm my heart. / It will rise and guide the way. / I see all these things. / The vicar speaks of failure and missed opportunities. / Friend and foe both stand smiling patiently, / each for their own good reasons. / I had not known my mother, / I had not known myself. / I am naked beneath my magic cloak.
The little girl from China
A little girl from China, she could not sit still. And on her little feet she ran, ran, ran and on her little feet she ran. All the way from China, all the way to Africa, all the way to everywhere. And when the night fell and would not end, to the ground she fell, to the ground she fell. And in the woods she was sleeping, and all around her it was creeping. Asleep she was, asleep she is, resting in a deep dark wood, far, far away. And her tiny feet all milky white are tended to by furry creatures of the night. To keep them warm and soft, to keep them warm and soft.
To care
To care is to be / To be is to discriminate / To discriminate is to ignore / To ignore is to disturb / To disturb is to affect / To affect is to involve / To involve is to care
My Valentine
(Translated from a German version of Papyrus Harris 500, Egypt, Old Kingdom ~ 1300/1100 BC)
My heart favours you / It wants to do for you / as it desires / When I rest in you arms / my hope is what dresses my eye / To see you makes my eye bright / I snuggle up to you / to feel your love / You great treasure of my heart / how delicious is this hour / May the hour become eternity / Since I have slept with you / you have elevated my heart / Whether in misery or joy / do not leave me.
for Barbara, Valentine 2003
© Philipp C Grote-Mesembe
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