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(written one night in Amsterdam 1975 - rather drunk - in a pub by a canal...)

Will I find her?

Will I find her,
the dream of my travels,
behind a winter door,
across bridges
over frozen rivers,
glittering veins
in her labyrinthal town.

Will I find her?
I wonder.

Will white wings of winter
catch my only hope,
offer it before her
in the depth of her eyes.

The picture of a family,
bodies so perfect for love,
the questions the winds
urges her to answer.

Will I find her?

I watch her beauty
from the edge of a gulls wing
shaping itself
in a breath of cold air.

She sweeps me to heights
where glory is union
and happiness
on the tip of the tongue.

Will I find her?
I wonder.

Look! The world
garments itself in winds
spearing me with a pain
that is hers too.

Will I find her?
I wonder.

I know that love
is no game no end
thrusting understanding
like dark rainbows,
that love is more
than the soil I walk on.

I could hear her hair unfold
at the closing of dusk
as I walked alone,
not even owning my shadow.

I saw her undressing,
going to bed
with yet another lover.
I am numb,
no wings to carry me
through city lights.

I smiled bitterly
when white snow
once again
fell on my face.

Will I find her?

Endless corridors in shadow,
time as cold air,
her foot is the pendulum.

The night fell deeper
and the music across my face
drove me further and further
away from any other street
than the ones leading to her
and her many lovers.

Will she find me
bleeding on the street
with eyes of snow
and mouth full of skyline.
Will I find her?

Poetry by Bob
Read 548 times
Written on 2015-04-19 at 16:58