And I long
for that ancient
astronomer's song;
I turn my telescope
inward,
beneath skin
and chest
and bone...
You shine
oh so brightly in there,
my dear!
Oh!
To kiss you in that place
when Van gogh painted
'Starry Starry Night'.
You know the place I mean:
That sacred place,
where paint-stained brush
it kisses the blank canvas
for the very first time.
But until
your tender fever burn &
eventual return;
the first bird of dawn,
its sweet song
will be all to keep me warm
come distant morning.
And, as I close my eyes,
maybe tonight
I'll be entertained by your company
(and sweet touch) -
In slumber.
For, since tasting
your lips
that (first) sweet time,
I now:
live in dream
and
dream in life.
(is this what it feels like to be a Pisces star?)
I relax (a little)
in comfort, knowing...
that even though
(from this earthbound window
& failing cornea)
I cannot see your star:
I sense (by intuition alone)
that you are out there...
Spinning!
Dancing!!
Shining!!!
Igniting the heavens
in a million shades of
purple, red & blue!
Beyond compare!! -
All the other stars in the night sky
pale (and quiver and sigh)
by your
wondrous
& unique beauty.
And
even though
I have a funny way of showing it
(in my shy & private way):
I am truly blessed
to have you here...
in my
slightly
expanding
universe. *
(c) Brent M Harpur, 2011.
* PS: (I make no apologies at this point for appearing the sentimental fool...)
"If the Sun and Moon should ever doubt/
They'd immediately go out."
(William Blake)
i.
Oh!
Precious night, she trembles!!
Star-fire
light my way.
If I'm not destined
to move inside her
heavenly skies tonight,
let me instead lie here
- close, yet far...
At her gentle-loud side.
Drink from fierce tide
& ragged constellation;
Sup from heavenly core,
leave her wanting
more.
Remember:
Tongue in bellybutton,
fingers in mouth,
lips nibbling ear,
warm breath on perfect back.
Let me
feast upon her shame,
replace it with
fiery-wet kisses & heart tremors;
Oh! Precious night,
she trembles!!
Goosebumps rise,
a perfect disguise:
Sun rise,
Sun set,
Sun rise!!
I can feel her heart beating
in her fingerprints.
Taste her DNA in the salty sweat
on her swan-like neck.
Catch a glimpse of heaven now
in her star-fire eyes.
Her touch ignites this blank canvas.
ii.
God, he has forsaken me -
or perhaps I him?
But maybe (through her) he has returned?
Her kisses awaken me,
like Lazarus.
Maybe he is offering this heathen
one last chance
(one last heavenly dance)...?
To see.
And to walk together,
hand in trembling hand;
skip, run, laugh, sing
& have a picnic
(feast on unending avocado & mango):
Here,
in Paradise's Garden.
Oh!
Precious night, she trembles!!
Star-fire
light my (her/our)
way.
(c) Brent M Harpur, October, 2011.
(This is not a poem. Merely words that I recently transcribed from the goosebumps/braille that rose on someone's perfect shoulders & upper back, while giving them a massage...)
"I'm an hour from arriving,
Three from where I rose to go -
And maybe two from where I'll find you,
Between the world and all I know."
(Joe Henry)
Can you hear
the whisper of stars...?
The first birds of dawn are stirring outside my window,
I open it to let in their song.
Stretching like a cat,
I stumble upstairs for breakfast...
Looking down
from the balcony of my apartment,
I see
tangled in the branches of trees:
tiny cars.
Four hot air balloons
drift slowly over dawn's sleepy skyline,
reminding me of a page
from my
(her/our)
favourite book.
Spring embraces,
sunlight tingles the hairs on my arm.
Her rays transform me.
I smile to myself
like I am the first person on earth
to invent smiling.
I crave avocado & goat's cheese,
but make do with my weetbix & milk.
I am a boy again,
the world awaits me.
I have finally shaken off the big city...
I trade it all in for wide 'Cookie Monster' eyes,
a sense of wonder & adventure.
Later that day,
at the National Gallery of Victoria...
I'm (somewhat)
relieved to find
that I am still that little boy;
You know the one.
The one who
(trying to peer in just that little bit further
than everyone else)
still hits his head on
museum & gallery
glass displays & windows.
Can you hear
the whisper of stars...?
It is really
the sounds of
childhood
slowly
returning.
(c) Brent M Harpur, 2011.
"I see through my eyes, not with them." (William Blake)
Someone wise once said
that a teacher affects eternity,
as they don't know where their influence ends...
but what is it that
influences a teacher?
perhaps it is a friend
back in Sydney
who
reminds another friend
that they have spent
half of their life
spreading joy
& teaching others...?
or perhaps it is
being presented with
a tiny towel
with a ribbon tied around it
in a bow,
at a train station
at the end of the universe...?
no,
I think it was the next morning...
I think it was
upon seeing
a collection of letters
written by children,
to their beloved teacher;
when discovering she was leaving.
At the very bottom of
one of the letters,
I noticed
the ink in the words
was running, smeared,
stained by a teardrop.
And at that very moment
I feel tears run down my own face.
I am filled with delight
that my newest, dearest friend
has reminded me:
I have
the BEST
damn job
in the entire
world
UNIVERSE!!
-For Corinne :)
(c) Brent M Harpur, 2011.
"If adults are happy, they give children a reason to want to grow up." (Dr. Patch Adams)
When love comes to call
at 4am,
will you be ready?
Or will you say
"No! I don't love you..."
& then in the next sentence
admit that
you don't even know
what love is.
I do not know either,
but I think that I love you.
Yes, I do not know what love is...
But here are some things that it is not,
either:
Love is not
a flashflood,
a tsunami,
or an earthquake
topplin' your cathedral...
Love is not
a nuclear reactor's core
melting down,
or radioactive dirty water
pouring into the Pacific.
Love is not
an out of control forest blaze
or a failing corneal graft.
Maybe
it is a gentle,
silent murmur.
Or a quiet collision
of starry opposites;
of gung-ho & hold back,
conservative & romantic,
iceberg & titanic.
Maybe it is someone
gently touching your face
while you become one
with each other's skin.
Maybe it is someone
choosing not to run away
when the other admits
that they want a baby.
Maybe it is finding strength
in being vulnerable,
kissing like you invented it,
choosing a super-power
of freezing time
over breathing underwater...
Perhaps
love is the space
between man and woman
that does not really exist.
And perhaps
it is just the
discarding of difference
& diversity
and cultural wall building,
common sense,
baggage,
bullshit & bodyparts.
And being able to
freely admit to one another
that you are
truly one of the same heart.
I used to suffer from such
a terrible disability.
Since meeting you,
I am no longer shy.
Thank you for giving me
back my courage.
I will say it again, as it deserves repeating:
"THANK YOU for giving me
back my courage!!"
I still
do not
know what love is,
but I'm a little more ready for it now...
...should it come calling
at 4am in the morning.
(c) Brent M Harpur, 2011.
"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart's affections & the truth of the Imagination." (John Keats)
Oh to find some
love or joy in this world
is never that simple
But last night (in a bar in Fitzroy)
I met a girl like me
who had a missing dimple.
She immediately struck me
about the head like a gold brick!
(apologies, Douglas)
It has been a while
since I have made a connection
with such a kindred heart;
Maybe it was
just the mutual appreciation
of Mr. Adams,
or a love for teaching art?
Whatever it was,
amongst the smokers' glittering stars
she was a breath of fresh air,
with her beautiful soul, smile & mind;
Removing my wooly glove
I took her hand, leading her outside
& for a moment I was no longer blind.
I hope I bump into her again,
feast on a few more precious words;
hear & see the constellations
spilling from her genuine
smiling eyes...
If only it is
just to thank her for briefly
filling my night
with some Douglas-like
wonder, humour & surprise!
A parting hug in Brunswick Street
& she was gone.
I wandered lost but homeward bound;
With the feeling Arthur Dent must have felt
when he first met a girl
whose feet never touched the ground.
(it seems silly to mention it now,
but before we even started talking
about the genius of Douglas Adams,
I wanted to tell her
that she somehow reminded me
of Trillian...
Not the TV
or radioplay
or film version.
How I imagined she would look,
all those years ago
when I first read the book...)
This morning
I lie here, more than a little wrecked,
(il communicado)
a babel fish slipping
from my ear into my bed;
I am delighted to discover
that I can still see her
"answer to life, the universe & everything"
smile blazing
in the expanding universe
within my head.
You were right, Douglas!
It REALLY is...
"42".
-for Corinne :)
(c) Brent M Harpur, 2011.
"I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be." (Douglas Adams)
A warning:
When choosing totems...
I (foolishly) let my heart decide
that every time
I saw a magpie,
I would spare a thought
in my heart
for you.
But I've only
been out for half an hour today,
and I've already seen
ten of the little buggers!!
There are a lot of
bloody magpies
in Victoria,
this time of year...
And you,
too
should be advised
and take heed:
There are
a LOT
of butterflies
in this world.
(c)Brent M Harpur, 2011.
"Love,as is told by the seers of old, Comes as a butterfly tipped with gold, Flutters & flies in sunlit skies, Weaving round hearts that were one time cold."
