“Muses, help me with art”…

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a gentle wind

lowers itself onto the arid leaf

thirsty for the attar of a new breath

awaiting in patience the first drop

underneath layers of the frozen white

whispers promises anew

unlocks the box after Pandora leaves

she has been tricked

no ill seeps through this time

the bolt’s ice will not be melting yet

in joyous dance unite hope and smiles

dreams and love recover again

Goethe calls out as if for me:

Muses, help me with art,

To suffer joy’s pain!

Ludwig Uhland’s painless joy

cuddles me with a kissing breeze:

Oh fresh scent, oh new sound!

Now, poor heart, fear not!

Now everything, everything must change.

gentle-breeze-lyle-huisken

The poem, “a gentle wind” was among my three contributions for the April 2015 issue of The Year of the Poet, a monthly book series published by Inner Child Press, Ltd.

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