The enchanter- K.B

The enchanter

A little strike here
And there,
A touch
And almost a stroke.

Heavy concentration
To reach poetry
And spend time
With her

Because she is poetry

Like my mother’s juvenile
And you
Living poetry.

Take the pen,
A salve of chords.

Drop the pen,
The oboy floats
Like a caress
Where the sun
Always shines.

The basoon
Gives depth
And the grieving cellos

A touch of red for desire
And an eternity of sentiments.

Why be political when poetry
Is the architecture
Of this hand
Water into diamond sparkles?

The world is poetry,
Let’s spend some time
Together as I’m not too
Old yet…

The enchanter is lying on his
Bed making peace with himself.

The wheel turns and turns,
To each his turn.

Love and kindness
And God,
It might seem naive
But those are mighty
Words and
They won’t exist without
When you put your head
Against my shoulder.

The brute and the sensitive
Are not good friends,
But you open me up like
A flower forgotten
In a cave.

Say hello to your daughter,
The apple of your eyes
Is also mine.

Love, kindness and love
Your body pressed
Against mine,
A deep wish
To see you smile,
To wash those old
Memories away
So we can love
Freely and resist
The test of time
In this daily celebration
Of life.

My empty head
Is absent minded…

Your words heal
Me and as in all
They’ll try
And steal you
From me.

Maybe you’ll go
Through hell,
Know I’m patiently
And I’m waiting
To make words
Dance again too…

K. B

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